24th Annual Scientific and Clinical Congress

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The Legend of Flash McCool

Nobody rightly knew where he come from. But one things fer’ sure...he sure ain’t from these parts. Best as the townfolk reckon’, he moseyed into town from the High Plains of Phoenix ‘round May in the year of our Lord two-thousand thirteen. No arguin’, he was a critter on a mission, with a right proper 10-gallon hat, a dust-covered Willie Nelson bandana and a swagger like John Wayne on spindly legs. Didn’t talk much, but when he did, folks stood up and took notice. And his voice was a dry as a desert waterin’ hole in the dead of summer. Said he was he huntin’ down some fancy docs, somethin’ called indycrynologee-ists. Said he wanted to get some ed-you-kation. Heck, we said, we done got Doc Booth here that can learn ya’ all ya’ wanna’ learn. But Flash wasn’t havin’ none of it...he said he was aimin’ high. Sure enough, he found them indycrynologee-ists rambling’ around town, and done cleaned himself up once he found ‘em. Talk ‘round town say Flash became quite the dandy, dressin’ like an oil baron and using all kindsa’ big words, bellyin’ up to the bar with them docs and the end of the day, swapping tales like brothers from other mothers. And then them fancy doctors left town. Not too long after, so did Flash. Just up & disappeared like a pale rider.

Then, a spell ago, some riders come into town from some fancy town out west called Las Vegas, talkin’ ‘bout a rhinestone cowboy they done met, the likes of which they never seen on God’s green Earth. Said his name was McCool, Flash McCool. Said he was seen prancin’ ‘round town with them fancy doctors again, all gussied with sparkles on his hat and bandana and a grin as wide as the Rio Grande. And then, “poof,” them docs was gone agin’. And so was he.

Word is that Flash has been seen heading east, zig-zaggin’ from valley to valley looking for his high high-fallutin’ friends. Said something ‘bout becoming a country music singer. At night, across the prairie, there’s talk that folks sometimes hear a mournful, croaky song a’comin’ in the night air. Legend has it that’s it just might right be McCool.

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