DR. CONY--And you will admit that the ceiling's just the same as it ever was?
COTTONTAIL--It looks the same from here. I haven't called any workmen in yet to examine it.
DR. CONY--Take my advice and don't. Just let's keep the matter between ourselves and forget it. I'm afraid you've been working too hard. Drop your business. Do a little light reading, and after a bit maybe I'd like to have you go to a show. Something with songs and bunny-hugging and jokes and chorus girls. None of this birth control stuff. I don't see how any self-respecting rabbit could go to a play like the one I saw last night. (_He goes to his instrument case and produces a stethoscope_.)
DR. CONY--Have you had your heart examined lately?
COTTONTAIL (_visibly nervous_)--No.
DR. CONY--Any shortness of breath or palpitation?
COTTONTAIL--I don't think so.
DR. CONY--If that's a vest you have on, take it off. There, now. (_He stands in front of Cottontail with his stethoscope poised in the air.
Cottontail is trembling. Dr. Cony allows the hand holding the stethoscope to drop to his side and remarks provocatively_), I'll bet you Maranville doesn't hit .250 this season.
COTTONTAIL (_amazed_)--Really, sir, I never bet. No, never. I don't know what you are talking about, anyway.
DR. CONY--That's all right, that's all right. Don't agitate yourself.
Just a little professional trick. I wanted to calm you down. Now (_he makes a hurried examination_), Mr. Cottontail, I don't want you to run.
I don't want you to climb stairs. Avoid excitement and don't butter your parsnips. Fine words are just as good, no matter what anybody may tell you, and they don't create fatty tissue. Of course, you've got to have some exercise. You might play a little golf. Say, about three holes a day.
COTTONTAIL (_sadly_)--Three holes?
DR. CONY--Yes, that will be enough.
COTTONTAIL (_musing_)--It's a little tough, doctor. I can still remember the day I won my "H" at dear old Hassenpfeffer in the 'cross-country run. I had the lungs and the legs then. Even now I can feel the wind on my face as I came across the meadow and up that last, long hill. They were cheering for me to come on. I can tell you I just leaped along. It was nothing at all for me. If I'd sprinted just a bit sooner I could have been first in a hop. Anyhow, I was second. There was nobody ahead of me but the Tortoise. (_Cheerlessly_) Three holes of golf a day!
DR. CONY--Come, come, sir, be a rabbit. There's no cheating nature, you know. You had your fun, and now you must pay.
COTTONTAIL--What's the matter with me?
DR. CONY--Plain, old-fashioned gout.
COTTONTAIL--What does that come from?
DR. CONY (_with evident relish_)--From too much ale or porter or claret or burgundy or champagne or sherry or Rhine Wine or Clover Clubs or Piper Heidsieck or brandy or Bronxes or absinthe or stingers, but the worst of all and the best of all is port wine.
COTTONTAIL (_horrified_)--You mean it comes from drinking?
Dr. Cony--In all my twenty-five years of professional practice I have never known a case of gout without antecedent alcoholism.
COTTONTAIL (_much relieved_)--Well, then, it can't be gout. I've never taken a drink in my life.
Dr. Cony--In all my twenty-five years of professional experience I've never made an incorrect diagnosis. It is gout.
COTTONTAIL--But I'm president of the Bone Dry Prohibition Union.
Dr. Cony--The more shame to you, sir.
COTTONTAIL--What shall I do?
DR. CONY--Obey my instructions implicitly. A good many doctors will tell you that they can't cure gout. Undoubtedly they are right. They can't.
But I can. Only you simply must stop drinking. Cutting down and tapering off to ten or twelve drinks a day won't do. You must stop absolutely. No liquor at all. Do you understand? Not a drop, sir.
COTTONTAIL (_his nose violently palpitating with emotion_)--I never took a drink in my life. I'm president of the Bone Dry Prohibition Union. I was just sitting quietly reading _The Evening Post_--
DR. CONY--Save that story for your bone-dry friends. I have nothing to do with your past life. I'm not judging you. It's nature that says the alcoholic must pay and pay and pay. I'm only concerned now with the present and the future, and the present is that you're suffering from alcoholism manifested in gout, and the future is that you'll die if you don't stop drinking.
COTTONTAIL--I tell you I promised my Sunday school teacher when I was a boy that I would always be a Little Light Bearer, and that I would never take a drink if I lived to be a hundred.
DR. CONY--Don't worry, you won't live that long, and don't take on so.
You're not the first one that's had his fun and then been dragged up by the heels for it. Cheer up. Remember the good times that are gone. Life can't be all carrots, you know.
COTTONTAIL--But I never had any good times.
DR. CONY--Oh, yes, you did, I'll warrant you. There must have been many merry nights as the bottle passed around the table. (_With evident gusto_) Maybe there was a rousing song--"When Leeks Are Young in Springtime"--or something like that, and I wouldn't be surprised if now and again there was some fluffy little miss to sing soprano to your bass. Youth! Youth! To be young, a rabbit and stewed. (_Quoting reminiscently_) "A leaf of lettuce underneath the bough." After all, salad days are the best days. I never meet an old rabbit with gout but I take off my hat and say, "Sir, you have lived."
COTTONTAIL (_wildly_)--It's not true. I never lived like that. I never took a drink in my life. You can ask anybody. Nobody ever saw me take a drink.
DR. CONY--That's bad. You solitary drunkards are always the hardest to handle. But you've simply got to stop. You must quit drinking or die, that's all there is to it.
COTTONTAIL--This is terrible. It must have been that poisoned sword. I tell you, I was just sitting here quietly, reading _The Evening Post_--
DR. CONY--My dear sir, please rid yourself right away of the alcoholic's habit of confusing cause and effect. He thinks he's sick because green elephants are walking on him, while, as a matter of fact, green elephants are walking on him because he's sick. It's terribly simple, when you stop to figure it out.
COTTONTAIL--You don't think I saw any pink monster come through the ceiling?
DR. CONY--On the contrary, I'm sure you did. But the point is, you mustn't see him again, and the only way to avoid seeing him is to quit drinking. Your fun's done. Now, be a good patient and tell me you'll stop drinking--
COTTONTAIL--I tell you I never had any fun. I never had any fun--
DR. CONY--Well, strictly speaking, it isn't the fun that hurts you, it's the rum. You must stop, even if you hate the stuff. Do you understand?
COTTONTAIL (_hysterical_)--I can't stop, I can't stop; I never started, I can't stop--
DR. CONY--Very well, sir, I must insist on taking the only measure that will save your life. (_He steps to the door and calls_) Mrs. Cottontail, will you come here immediately?
(_Enter Mrs. Cottontail_.)
COTTONTAIL--My dear--
DR. CONY--If you please, madame. Let me explain first. You can have it out with your husband later. I'm sorry to tell you, Mrs. Cottontail, that your husband has gout. He has contracted it from excessive drinking. You knew, of course, that he was a heavy drinker?
MRS. COTTONTAIL (_surprised, but not in the least incredulous_)--I couldn't go so far as to say I knew it.
DR. CONY--He must stop or he'll die.
COTTONTAIL (_rapidly and wildly_)--I can explain everything, my dear.