The diagnosis

Patient X (Not me): When I do the dishes, I tend to think out loud.
Dr. Pepperoncini: Never talk to the dishes. Even if they start the conversation.

Patient X: Did I say I talked to the dishes?
Dr. Pepperoncini: You cannot fool Pepperoncini.

Patient X: Anyway, I was washing the colander last night. One little bit of pasta refused to unstick without a fight. I sprayed hot water full blast, but the peckerwood wouldn’t budge. I shouted “What part of hot water don’t you understand, you depraved Trotskyite?” K-Mac asked if I was yelling at the colander again. I got a steak knife and cut that bad boy out of the colander, along with a gouge of plastic. I felt guilty the rest of the night.

Dr. Pepperoncini: How did that make you feel?
Patient X: I just said, I felt guilty.

Dr. Pepperoncini: No need to get snippy with Pepperoncini.
Patient X: Are you wearing a fake nose and moustache?

Dr. Pepperoncini: What sort of pasta was it?
Patient X: Very thin spaghetti. Um, your eyeglasses have no glass in them.

Dr. Pepperoncini: You mean Angel Hair?
Patient X: Yes. Is that a German accent? I thought you were Italian.

Dr. Pepperoncini: You do realize there is no such thing as an angel?
Patient X: And yet, there is Angel Hair. It said so on the box. I don’t see your diploma on the wall.

Dr. Pepperoncini: Here. I like to keep it in my wallet. You mean the box of Angel Hair said something to you?
Patient X: Well, in a manner of speaking. It’s all folded up. I’ve never heard of the University of Knockwurst.

Dr. Pepperoncini: It’s online. The box was using its inside voice?
Patient X: It wasn’t using any voice. As I silently read the words “Angel Hair” on the box, I heard the words “Angel Hair” in my head.

Dr. Pepperoncini: What part of your head?
Patient X: The part between my ears. Let me ask you: Do you get your hair cut by Don King’s barber?

Dr. Pepperoncini: How long have you been hearing these voices?
Patient X: Well, every time somebody says something to me, I hear it in my head. Usually, the ear part.

Dr. Pepperoncini: How did you feel when the box of angel hair spoke to you?
Patient X: Hungry.

Dr. Pepperoncini: For love? For God? For Pete’s sake?
Patient X: For spaghetti and meatballs.

Dr. Pepperoncini: This is the first time you’ve mentioned mee-TUH-balls. Are you, perhaps, ashamed of your mee-TUH-balls? Are they very small?
Patient X: Now you sound Italian. No, they were huge.

Dr. Pepperoncini: You say ‘They were huge.’ What happened to them?
Patient X: I ate them.

Dr. Pepperoncini: You ate your own mee-TUH-balls? Did the voice in your head say you were crazy?
Patient X: No. It said ‘Dude, these are the best meatballs ever.’”

Dr. Pepperoncini: How did this make the Angel Hair feel?
Patient X: I never considered that.

Dr. Pepperoncini: Few people do. Have you ever heard of Angel Hair envy?
Patient X: No, I—

Dr. Pepperoncini: Now we get to the heart of it. Do you suppose that little piece of angel hair was clinging desperately to the colander in hopes of hearing the dude voice in your head offer one small bit of encouragement?
Patient X: But–

Miss Rumsmoke: Excuse me, Dr. Pepperoncini will see you now.
Patient X: But… who is this guy?

Dr. Pepperoncini: I see our time is up. Get rest, drink plenty of fluids and stop eating your mee-TUH-balls. Pepperoncini has spoken.

©Patrick A. McGuire and A Hint of Light 2013-2016, all rights reserved.

This entry was posted in Absurd and/or zany, Mockery and derision, News You Can Use (Sort of), Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The diagnosis

  1. edg says:

    Did he sleep at a Holiday Inn the night before?


  2. PMcG says:

    No, but I have to tell you, the meataballs were made with DelGrosso sauce. You and DelNagro must be millionaires.


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