“What would they call you now, Doctor Behind Bars?” the prison guard asks.
“No,” you tell him. “They took away my license to practice when my wife overdosed at one of the OxyContin parties I threw monthly using my own prescription pad. So now it’s just Mister Party.”
“Mister Party? Seriously?”
“I’m not going to change my last name just because Karen couldn’t handle her shit.”
The prison guard processes your paperwork and you’re released on parole after a 12-year sentence. You take a few steps into freedom and get the urge to turn around and run back inside. Everyone’s door was wide open when you were Doctor Party. But without a prescription pad, Mister Party has nowhere to go.
Happy They Used To Call You Doctor Party Day!