Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb sauntered into the triage room and plopped down. They had a little Tweedle-ette with them, a girl in the eight to ten range. She wasn't their daughter, and they never did make it clear exactly how she was related to them, even when they were asked directly. Tweedle-Dumb tried to take control of the whole question and answer process, but the nasty Nurse Ratchet wouldn't let him. He sulked through the entire thing.
Tweedle - Dee's chief complaint? "It hurts when we have intercourse and he's really deep inside me and I'm on top."
Nurse Ratchet - biting back the three things she wants to say immediately-
#1. "Well, then, why don't you stop?"
#2. "And this is an emergency WHY?"
#3. "Honey, from the looks of him, if I were in that position I'd be hurting, too."
And then one that she couldn't stop herself from saying out loud. "Do you really want this little girl in here listening to all of this?"
"Oh, it's fine," said Tweedle-Dee. "She hears all about this stuff from her dad anyway."
"Duh," said Tweedle-ette, mortally offended. "It's not like I'm a kid or anything."