Here's a song for the allergic, the clergic, and the lysergic, all sitting together in the emergency room. Their causes of injury were wildly divergent, but the hospital's the best equalizer this side of the tomb.
The allergic made plans on this Thursday evening to go visit some friends for some must-see TVing, but didn't count on their feline companions and experienced sinus expansion beyond all previously known transoms. He ran into the street and got stung by a bee, and then his eyelids swelled shut and he couldn't see a thing, and his fingers were so swollen, he couldn't open the Chlor-Trimeton, and he got run over by an ice cream truck driving without its headlights on.
The clergic happened to pass by this sticky, rumpled mess and asked him if there was anything he'd like to confess, and the allergic whispered yes, and as the clergic leaned in closer, the two were approached by a young lysergic doser. The lysergic was demented, as is usual for these types, and started whaling on the both of them with a leaden sewer pipe. He knocked the clergic's head in and then he climbed a red phone booth and he screamed, "I am Elroy Jetson!" and he jumped and chipped a tooth. And the three of them lay groaning in a pile on the ground, and they remained there until morning when 911 finally came around. They were scooped up off the pavement with a giant plastic spoon and dropped off in front of the emergency room.
The allergic, the clergic, and the lysergic, who knows which one will survive? One couldn't see, one couldn't fight, and one just couldn't fly.