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[neurologist]

I know it's medically impossible, but my brain's turned into cotton balls. As has my tongue.

I'm not doing clinic hours today. I think that's a safer decision for all around. Cameron, if you're feeling generous, could you take them for me?

Comments

[not_damaged]

Yeah, but just this once! How much did you and Dr. House have to drink last night, anyways? His journal is full of gibberish, and I think he threw another rock through Dr. Wilson's window.

Also, why does the parking lot smell like Chase's lunch?

[neurologist]

I lost count. I never should have agreed to the tequila. We were quite pissed, though.

The parking lot smells like Chase's lunch because Chase's car smells like Chase's lunch. Duh, Allison.

[not_damaged]

Duh, Allison.

Hey, shouldn't you be nicer to the person who's doing your clinic hours, Eric?

Tch, tequila. That'll do it, all right.

[neurologist]

I'm sorry, Princess Cameron. How may I make it up to you?

You sound like you know. How do you know?

[neurologist]

I certainly didn't. I keep telling it to fuck off, but it's not listening to me.

Is that why you're throwing the rocks, or are you throwing the rocks because you want Wilson to be as miserable as we are?

[not_damaged]

Don't you have blinds, oh exibitionistic one?