That's My Gel, Dammit

The eldest Llama-ette crocked her finger playing basketball at school and, as a result, is currently visiting the doc to have it checked out. This is the actual text of an email exchange between us just now:

She: Hi dad. I'm about to be x rayed

Me: Break a leg. (Ha Ha Ha!)

She: That isn't funny. That only means good luck in stage terms.

Jeesh! Talk about your tough crowd!

My response? Loosen up, you goose!

Know what she really needs? A dose of this:

UPDATE: Turns out it's a tiny hair-line fracture. Nonetheless, the doc clamped on a cast the size of the Hindenburg.

UPDATE DEUX: I switched out the re-filmed version of the sketch from And Now For Something Completely Different (which I had tossed in because I was in a hurry) and put in the original version from Season 1 of Flying Circus, which I think much better. (The eldest gel often reminds me of John Cleese's Gestapo officer from this piece: "Dot's! Not! VUNNY!")