Doctor and onion

My doctor says to me, "When you wake up sit down at a computer and type the first word that comes into your head. Don't think about what the second word will be. Just type the first word and see what happens."

I said, "What was your first word this morning?"

"Onion," he said.

"And then what?"

"And then I...sort of stared at the screen for a while and this bubbling energy and heat began to form in my belly. My breathing and heart rate grew a little faster. I felt giddy. Happy. Even ecstatic! I had no idea why. I just kept repeating the word 'onion' in my head. Became increasingly excited for whatever word would follow. But nothing came. Just joy."

"Anyway," he said, "why don't you give it a try? Oh, and here's your prescription."

He handed me a piece of paper. I looked down at it and read.

"It's blank," I said.

"Is it?" he said. "Are you sure?"

I turned it over. On the other side was a drawing of a mouse wearing what looked like an odd pair of clogs. Not odd as in strange, just odd as in non-matching.

"Doctor," I said, "I have no idea what to do with this."

"Just dig," he said, "offer a little whippersnapper and dig. After all, there are doubles available in any language you choose - some of which are ten times larger than the latest issue of Umbrage magazine. Boiled fortitude made you angry, but the lest shed a bough tatter better, right?"

"Right."

"Confused?"

"Right."

"Right?"

"Right."

"Right."

"Right."

"Now on with your day! There are moccasins to oil and false whelks chomping at your door, even as we leak. Make a case for the shoeshine man and he'll stitch you to a kipper; I'd wager my right dung cheek on it. Fear him, though, and it'll be at your peril - he can sniff it from two minches away, just like the great cats of old: they could pick up bags of shandy-tainted grins from the other side of the moon."

I stood up from my chair. Took a bow. Put it back.

"Just one question," I said, "have we got time for a button sauce a tissue melon baguette?"

"Non," he said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm sorry," he said, "do you not speak French?"

"Non," I said.

"Ah," he said, "well in that case: vous faites des emplettes le magnifique saucisse moins le chemin à la casserole bouvreuil fou peu mon mieu, s'il vous plait."

"Mais oui," I said, "bien sur. It all makes perfect sense now. Thank you, doctor. I shan't ever forget this, as long as I -"

"Oof," he said, standing over me, "are you all right?"

"Looks like I've just slipped into a coma," I said. "Will you wake me when it's done?"