Week by week, and Friday by Friday, G-Man invites us to discuss life's little ironies in a strictly rationed 55 words.
"We're losing him. 400 joules! Clear!"
"No, he's breathing! I'm getting a pulse."
The patient eyes opened. "What? Where?"
"Easy, son! What's that your holding? Ticket with a number?"
"There was this huge queue at the Pearly Gates. Guy in a white frock gave me this. Told me to come back later."
The crash team looked at each other.
(55 words, not including title)