Category: Season 3

Hey, lookit, I had front seats to that bloodbath, and it hasn’t affected my sex drive.

You make me want to kill myself and everybody around me!

Newbie! Let me – let me tell you a little story. It starts every day at 5 in the morning — which is just about the time that you’re setting your hair for work – when I am awakened by a sound: Is that a cat being gutted by a fishing knife? Nooo! That’s my son. He’s hungry and he’s got a load in his pants so big that I’m actually considering hiring a stable boy. But, I go ahead and dig in; because I do love the lad and, well gosh, you know me, I’m a giver. And I’m off to the hospital, where my cup runneth over with both quality colleagues, such as yourself, and a proverbial clown-car full of sick people. But, what the hey, my pay is about the same as guys who break rocks with other rocks and I only have to work three or four hundred hours a week, so, so far I’m a pretty happy camper! And then I head back home where I’m greeted by the faint musk of baby vomit in a house that used to smell like, well…nothing! Nothing! Nothing! I-i-in fact it used to smell like nothing at all. And all I want to do before I restart this whole glorious cycle is, you know, maybe lay on the couch and have a beer and watch some SportsCenter and, if I’m not too sweaty from the day’s labors, stick my hand right down my pants, buuut apparently that’s not in Jordan’s definition of pulling your weight”.

Relax, Newbie, the gimp is chained up.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, there, butch. I don’t know if you’re sucking up to me or making a pass at me, but I say you skip it and we continue in our state of mutual disdain.

God help me, Sluggo, if you get any more buff, I’ll be absolutely sure that you’re gay!

Honestly, I haven’t been this happy since Christmas when I was seven years old and my father showed me how to make a snow angel. Actually, he was passed out drunk in the yard…. But I did take his arms and his legs and move them back and forth…. And…th-the paramedics said it was one of the finest snow angels that they’d ever seen.

Not one resident showed up. Not one. Would you like to know why? Because they’re not scared of me anymore. And I blame you. Yes. You have turned me into this soft, emotionally open, pathetic freak at home, and now it’s starting to bleed over into work.

So I…I’m pretty much thinking it’s time to get the fear back. And I’m sorry, but I think life is just too short to spend your time working someplace where people don’t crap their pants at the mere sight of ya.

I–I know what you’re thinking, believe me, I…I do: Why in the world would a civilized, up-town man of the millennium such as myself even go ahead and give a good rat’s ass about whether a bunch of snot-nosed baby docs were afraid of him. Right? Well, unfortunately the only way I know how to teach is through fear.