The One who swallowed clocks.

Visceral Surgery, 4th year.

"- So ?"
"- Easy one : clock !"
"- Right !"
"- What was his excuse ?"
"- Oh, this one doesn't really theorize things. It's not the first time, actually. He is coming from Saint
Gargoyle* (* Psychiatric Hospital of the area).
"- Oh, I see."
"- Yes. We're waiting for the clock to pass through the pylorus and then the cecal defile and he'll
be free to go on swallowing whatever he likes."

That awkward moment when you understand that it is the item more than the human being or the
reason he swallow strange things which matters to you.

That terrible moment when the simple sentence "He is coming from Saint Gargoyle" suits to undoubtedly justify nearly everything.