The Short Humour Site

Home : Writers' Showcase : Submission Guidelines : A Man of a Few More Words : Links

Writers' Showcase

Workshop Wranglings
by Eric Miller

Dr. Cutter Hack, a wonderful surgeon with an unfortunate name, found himself as the lone male at a health conference at which his wife was an presenter.

“Check out the display tables until the workshops start. I’ll catch up to you after my presentation. Wish me luck,” she said, with a radiant smile.

After checking out the tables, Cutter took a seat in one of the workshop rooms.

“It takes a special man to do what you are doing,” the woman beside him noted.

“And why is that?,” he asked.

“Not only are you the only male in this workshop, the rumor is that you are the only male at the conference.”

“Really?,” he responded, as he looked around the room.

“Never fear, sir, we are all harmless.”

“I never doubted it,” he answered.

All the women in the room were talking loudly and with great animation about womanly things, while awaiting the start of the formal workshop program.

“Oh sir,” one of the ladies called out.

“Are you speaking to me?,”  Cutter asked, as he looked over his shoulder at  a bevy of womanly grins and twinkling eyes.

“As you are the only sir in the room, and the whole conference as well, the answer to your query is yes. My friends and I were just discussing our belief that men go through life singing along with Peter Pan that they don’t want to grow up. Do you sing that song?”

Little did the woman realize to whom she was speaking. Although his last name was Hack, no one had a sharper knife-edged tongue than Cutter. He rose slowly from his chair and turned to address the ladies whom he felt were enjoying this nonsense a wee bit to much, at his expense. Pausing to heighten the theatricality sparking in the air, he looked squarely at his interrogator and pointed his index finger straight at her.

“No man has, or ever will, grow up,” he stated. “It is the blessing of being male, the superior gender. Accept it, embrace it, deal with it, and get over it. Pray that if there is such a thing as reincarnation, you will return as a male.”

Bedlam broke out. The woman became a launched missile crashing into his midsection and taking him down with a ferociousness only reserved for preventing a running back from crossing the goal line. Every woman in the room piled on, except one, who finally blew a whistle. She offered her hand and pulled him up for all to see the frilly pink dress in which he was covered.

“We girls think that you will be safer dressed like this for the rest of the conference,” his nemesis said,  as the other women danced about like a victorious football team.

“No, I really don’t think that’s the right outfit for tonight. It’s just not you,” his wife said, as she unexpectedly walked into the workshop. "It certainly is lovely; very chic, with nuance and elegance, but it makes you look fat."