I don’t operate often. When I do,

persons take note.

Nurses look amazed. They pale.

The patient is brought back to life, or so.

The reason I don’t do this more (I quote)

is: I have a living to fail—

because of my wife & son—to keep from earning.

—Mr Bones, I sees that.

They for these operations thanks you, what?

not pays you. —Right.

You have seldom been so understanding.

Now there is further a difficulty with the light:

I am obliged to perform in complete darkness

operations of great delicacy

on my self.

—Mr Bones, you terrifies me.

No wonder they didn’t pay you. Will you die?

—My

friend, I succeeded. Later.