Whenever I’m out dining and from some table I hear this urgent cry, I stand up and say “I’m a doctor!” I then hurry over to the usually unconscious customer, feel for a pulse, stretch open their eyelids and peer into them, listen for breathing, quickly ask “Is he on any medications that you know?” and generally make it appear as if I know what I’m doing. Finally, I get up, shrug my shoulders and say: “I’m just fucking with you. I’m not really a doctor.”
This bit kills.
BILL
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