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The year is 2037. Ligma is now the name of a real disease. You're a doctor you just got the test results of the patient it's just as you feared it's fatal, your patient has ligma you're crying but you can't stop laughing you know you have to tell your patient that he has ligma but you can't keep a straight face you have to go out therr and tell your patient that he has only three days left to live and that there's no cure no hope not even enough time for him to finish his bucket list or find love or get the life he's always wanted he started making progress, he was doing well, his future had high hopes but he has a fatal case of ligma and you can't keep a straight face you walk out to your patient, "s-sir," you say through snickers "yes doctor? what are my test results?" your patient replies "I-I'm very sorry to say but," you respond as your sentence gets interrupted by a loud snort. "it's f-f-atal." you can't hold your laughs and you let out a bit of laughter "Is this some kind of joke? are you some sadistic creep? why the fuck are you laughing" the patient shouts out you "you h-have a fatal case of l-l-ligma," you can't hold it in anymore, you burst out laughing, you're rolling on the floor, tears in your eyes, you pee yourself a little "what the fuck is wrong with you? you're horrible! fuck you! go to hell!" your patient replies, with a face of horror, disgust, anger and sadness. he starts to cry. he's shaking you scream at the top of your lungs, "LIGMA BALLS! LIGMA BALLS! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! LIGMA BALLS!" you can't stop laughing and shouting, over and over again you repeat "LIGMA BALLS! LIGMA BALLS! LIGMA BALLS!" your patient flees, he runs as fast as he can soon the police come, they handcuff you and put you in the back of a police car. you don't know what's going to happen to you now, but you know it won't be good