Three elderly men were at the doctor’s office for a memory test.
The doctor asked the first man, “What is three times three?”
“274,” the man replied confidently.
The doctor blinked twice, sighed, and turned to the second man.
“Okay, your turn. What is three times three?”
“Tuesday,” the second man replied with a proud smile.
The doctor massaged his temples.
“Alright… let’s try this again.”
He turned to the third man.
“Sir, what is three times three?”
The third man sat up straight, cleared his throat, and said, “Nine.”
The doctor’s eyebrows shot up.
“Well… yes! That’s correct! How did you get that answer?”
The old man grinned.
“Easy. I just subtracted Tuesday from 274.”
The doctor stared at him, speechless, while the first two men nodded proudly as if everything made perfect sense.
Before the doctor could continue the test, Nurse Melody poked her head through the door.
“Doctor? You might want to step outside. There’s… a situation.”
He excused himself and left the three elderly men alone in the examination room.
This was a mistake.
The moment the door shut, the second man—Harold—leaned toward the first man—Norm.
“You know, Norm… I think I actually passed that test.”
Norm squinted at him.
“You said Tuesday, Harold.”
“And?” Harold snapped. “It felt right. Numbers are restrictive. Time is fluid.”
The third man, Stanley, rolled his eyes.
“You two are hopeless.”
Norm puffed up like a pigeon.
“Excuse me, I was closest. At least 274 is a number.”
Stanley smirked.
“Closest to what, exactly?”
Norm opened his mouth to argue, but just then the door burst open.
It was the doctor again—frazzled, red-faced.
Behind him stood Nurse Melody… covered in glitter.
He cleared his throat and folded his arms.
“Gentlemen… did any of you release the glitter bomb in the waiting room?”
Harold gasped.
“There was a glitter bomb?! And I missed it?!”
Stanley shook his head.
“Don’t look at me. I can’t even open my pill bottles.”
Norm suddenly looked guilty.
The doctor stared at him.
“Norm?”
Norm swallowed.
“I… might’ve been testing my granddaughter’s birthday present. But it shouldn’t have gone off unless someone pulled the string!”
Everyone turned slowly to Harold.
Harold raised his hands defensively.
“I thought it was a snack.”
“A SNACK?” the doctor shouted.
Harold shrugged.
“It was shiny. Most shiny things are snacks.”
The doctor rubbed his forehead again.
“This is exactly why you’re all here.”
But before he could continue his scolding, Nurse Melody interrupted.
“Doctor… the three wives are here. They want to talk to you.”
The color drained from the doctor’s face.
“No. No. Not all three at once. They’ll—”
Too late.
Three elderly women appeared in the doorway like a trio of furious angels.
Evelyn, Harold’s wife, marched forward first.
“My husband thinks THREE TIMES THREE equals TUESDAY?! What exactly are you teaching him here?”
Harold whispered, “I still stand by it.”
Next came Shirley, Norm’s wife.
“Doctor, my Norman said 274… again. Are you sure his test is working? Because that’s the same answer he gave for ‘What sound does a cow make?’ last year.”
“And it STILL might be right!” Norm protested.
Finally, Margaret, Stanley’s wife, stepped forward calmly.
“My Stanley is fine. The other two are pulling the national IQ average down.”
She patted Stanley on the shoulder.
“Good job, dear.”
Stanley beamed.
The room erupted into chaos—everyone arguing, pointing, shouting, laughing.
The doctor slammed a clipboard on the counter.
“ENOUGH! I can only handle one crisis at a time!”
Silence.
He straightened his coat, took a deep breath, and said:
“You all passed the memory test.”
Gasps filled the room.
Stanley frowned.
“Even them?”
“Yes,” the doctor said. “Because the real test wasn’t the math problem. It was to see if you three could sit quietly for five minutes without causing chaos.”
Everyone stared at him.
Harold squinted.
“How long did we last?”
The doctor sighed.
“Twenty-three seconds.”
Harold nodded proudly.
“Record-breaking.”
Norm clapped.
“That’s my boy!”
Stanley shrugged.
“I still got the math right.”
Their wives shook their heads, laughing despite themselves.
The doctor finally gave up trying to be stern.
“You know what? You’re all… uniquely functioning. Let’s call it that.”
Harold grinned.
“So… we passed?”
“Sure,” the doctor muttered. “Let’s go with that.”
The three elderly men fist-bumped like they’d just won the Super Bowl.
As they shuffled out of the room—arguing again about whether numbers should be allowed to rhyme—the nurse whispered to the doctor:
“You know they’ll be back next week, right?”
The doctor stared into the distance, defeated.
“I know. And I’m not paid enough for this.”
