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Friday, March 24, 2006

Sketch 2: The Doctor Sketch

Physic, Heal Thy Shelf

INT. "DOCTOR'S" OFFICE

The room has very little furniture apart from a desk, a chair and several empty frames hanging on the wall behind the desk. A Doctor sits behind the desk, watching the door expectantly.

A Patient opens the door to the office, on which is written "DOCTOR'S OFFICE" in overlarge letters.

Doctor: Come in, have a seat.

Patient: Thanks.

Doctor: So tell me, what seems to be the problem?

Patient: Well, I’ve been having headaches –

Doctor: (shouts): Tumour!

Patient: I’m sorry?

Doctor: Tumour, definitely. In your brain. Big old tumour.

Patient: Um, what do you –

Doctor: No, wait, not a tumour, it’s a – what’s that other thing, not a tumour, but a...?

Patient: Cyst?

Doctor: No, no, not quite, nearly though...

Patient: Aneurysm?

Doctor: No, not that, something else, what’s it called, sounds like “inferno” or “herpes”...

Patient: Um, I’m sorry doctor, but what are you –

Doctor: Oh, I’m not a doctor.

Patient: What?

Doctor: No, not a doctor, I’m a healer, you see. An holistic, professionally psychic diagnostician, in fact, completely and utterly hands off. And one of the best if not the best in the field.

Doctor leans back and gestures to a collection of empty frames hanging on the wall behind him.

Patient: But there’s nothing there.

Doctor smiles for a moment, then looks defeated.

Doctor: OK, well, I would be considered the best in the field if this was a recognised field, but it’s not because those damn surgeons and veterinarians have it all locked up, don’t they? It’s all politics and anal thermometers with them, and all their fancy machines with their x-rays and stethoscopes. You won’t catch me with any of those syringes or tongue depressions, no sir, not on my watch!

Patient: But it says “Doctor” on your door, in big letters.

Doctor: Advertising. It’s good for business. If you read the small print, it explains that the fact that I have the word “Doctor” on my door is not to be construed in any way to infer that I am in fact a medical professional in any way. And that I am not responsible for any unexplained, sudden deaths which may or may not have occurred within this office or in my basement. Have to keep the punters coming in, don’t I?

Patient: Small print?

Doctor points to bottom of door.

Patient stands up and walks over to the door, before getting down on his hands and knees and squints at a small squiggle.

Doctor opens a door and pulls out a magnifying glass.

Doctor: You might want this. Some of my older patients find it helpful. Though most can’t get up afterwards.

A muted collective groan is heard off screen, as though a large number of OAPs had been piled atop one another in a closet. Doctor looks askance, before putting down the magnifying glass and becoming engrossed in a paperweight.

Patient stands up and returns to his seat.

Patient: Listen, Doc – whatever you are, I don’t think I’ll –

Doctor: Hernia!

Patient: What?

Doctor: Not a tumour, a hernia, that’s what I was trying to remember!

Patient: Hernia?

Doctor: Hernia. Absolutely.

Patient: And it’s giving me headaches? Isn’t a hernia in your belly, due to overexertion of muscles?

Doctor looks perplexed for a moment.

Doctor: What’s that one that you get, you know, when your head hurts and it won’t go away?

Patient: A headache?

Doctor: That’s the one - you have a headache.

Patient: Well, yes, I have a headache, but –

Doctor: See? There you go, diagnosed, completely psychically and without touching you once.

Patient: But I had the headache when I came in...

Doctor: And it is through the power of my mind that I have tracked down your pain and named it, lassoing it with my genius and taking it down like a calf at a gay rodeo.

Patient looks bewildered.

Doctor: Was there anything else?

Patient: Um, no?

Doctor: Excellent. You may pay the nurse on the way out.

Patient gets up and leaves.

Doctor sits writing at his desk for a moment before turning to his intercom and pressing a button.

Doctor: Miss Johnson? Can you please cancel my appointments for the rest of the day? I’ve got a terrible hernia.

Fade out

© Nick and Keith 2006.

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