The famous surgeon died and worked his way Heavenwards, arriving ultimately at the Pearly Gates. Just like the VA clinics there was a long line. He was not having any of this and strode to the head of the queue and berated St. Peter who was overseeing the admissions procedure.
“I_can’t hang around here in a line like this,” explained the surgeon. “Don’t you know who I am?”
-“No, who are you?” asked St. Peter.
-“I’m Dr. Simon Rothschild III, President of the American College of Surgeons, Surgeon on-call for the United States President, Chairman of …”
-“O.K., O.K., O.K.,” said St. Peter, “I get the idea. However, it makes no difference here. Everyone is equal and you must go to the back of the line.”
At that moment a harassed little man in a crumpled suit rushed up in an obvious hurry. He carried a little doctor’s bag, a stethoscope was hanging round his neck and an VA prescription pad was poking out of his pocket. He quietly said something in St. Peter’s ear, and without further ado St. P. opened the Pearly Gates and the crumpled little man went through.
This was too much for our eminent surgeon.
-“And what was all that about everyone being equal! You send an eminent doctor like me to the back of the line, but you let an insignificant common-place G.P. like that through without so much as a hesitation.”
-“Sorry,” said St. P., “but that wasn’t a G.P., that was God. Sometimes he likes to play at being a doctor”