“This is Doctor Zimostrad from the medical center. Are you Fred Johnson?”

“Yes I am. What can I do for you?”

“I’m calling about your brother. He’s in desperate need of a new kidney, and as his sole surviving relative you’re the best match for a donor.”

“I see.”

“We’ve already removed your brother’s bad kidney and hooked him up to the Mr. Kidney machine. We should do the transplant as soon as possible. When are you available?”

“Hmmm. Today’s out. I have to go the record store to buy tickets for Bob Dylan and Sponge.”

“How about Monday?”

“No, Monday’s no good. I’m going out of town to see Hog Molly.”

“Mr. Johnson, I can’t stress how important this is.”

“I know, Doctor. What about Tuesday?”

“I’ve got a golf match on Tuesday. Then I’m going to see Anthrax. How about Thursday?”

“David Byrne.”

“Maybe Friday? No, wait a minute. Friday’s definitely out. I’m already scheduled for a big sphincter bypass. We could do it next Saturday.”

“I’ll be at Nada Surf. Isn’t there an easier way to do this, Doctor?”

“I do have an extra ticket for Tuesday night’s Janet Jackson concert at the Palace. I could messenger you the ticket, then meet you at the show and yank your kidney after the opening act.

“You want to cut me open in the middle of the arena?”

“There’s no real surgical incision. Instead, we’ll suck your kidney out through a tube inserted in your navel.

“That’s a possibility. Where should I meet you?”

“Fifth row, Section G. Are we set?”

“I don’t know. Couldn’t…”

“If you’re worried about the procedure, let me assure you, Mr. Johnson, I’ve operated at many concerts. Last month I did a face lift at a Madonna show and just last week I separated Siamese twins, who were joined at the left buttock, at a Pat McGee Band concert. You have no need to worry. You’re in good hands.

“Yeah, but…”

“Mr. Johnson, let me remind you, it’s your brother’s life we’re talking about.

“I know, but…

“But, what, Mr. Johnson?

“Section G? I’m not sure I like that. Couldn’t you get something closer to the stage?”