Complaints

“I understand you have some complaints.”

“Yes, I do. I can’t live under these conditions.”

“Which conditions would you be referring to exactly?”

“Well…the dormitory atmosphere is nice, when you’re twenty. But it’s marginally less tolerable without the keg parties and autographed posters of Team Budweiser.”

“I know it can be frustrating, having to share quarters when you’re used to living more...independently. Is there anything specific that you'd like to...”

“My roommate is a registered sex offender. He’s probably going to rape me, in my sleep.”

“You...have reason to believe he’s planning to sexually assault you?"

“No, I’m just saying. I want to be awake for it.”

“Um…”

“Also he snores. I've barely gotten a decent night's rest since I got here."

"Well, you can probably get some earplugs. I'll need to know which room you're in, before I can…"

"And he stops breathing for like two or three minutes at a time. I seriously think someone should conduct a polysomnogram, or at least check his oxygen saturation.”

“You…think he’s not getting enough oxygen?”

“It’s possible he hasn’t had any in a while...maybe ever.”

“I...uh..."

“Might explain why he’s so hostile…and attracted to altar boys."

"..."

"And his eyes are too close together. Not a lot. But you know...just enough to be noticeable.”

“I'm not sure that has anything to do with…”

"And it's not that I don't feel for the guy. But it wouldn't be so bad having to listen to him masturbate all the time, if he wouldn't keep saying Mommy while he's doing it."

"Jesus..."

"I mean some of us just didn't have that sort of relationship with our moms."

"No. Of course not."

"Some of us didn't even get breastfed."

"That's..."

"Of course that wasn't really her fault. I was lactose intolerant."

"Right."

"But she could have at least held me once in a while. Am I right?"

"She didn't hold you?"

"Well, she didn't have any hands."

"Oh...my God."

"Yeah, just stumps. She was born that way."

"Wow."

"Which was really impressive, if you think about it. Because she was a professional boxer."

"Is that so?"

"Oh yeah. Used to spar with her all the time, when I wasn't helping my dad at the chop shop."

"Your dad ran a..."

"Perfected my jab by the time I was six. Not before getting my nose broken a few times. She had a mean right hook."

"Um..."

"She didn't see that well though. So when she wasn't wearing her glasses, I could usually just bob and weave."

"See, I only have a few minutes..."

"She beat up the mailman once."

"Uh..."

"But honestly, he had it coming. Five o'clock is pretty late for delivery. Am I right? Those guys are union. They have no excuse."

"Okay then."

"I suppose we could set the dog on him, if we'd had one."

"Thing is, I really do need to get going. I have two other hospitals I'm supposed to..."

"We never had any pets, of course. We were too poor."

"I'm...sorry."

"I had this stick that I tied a string to and I'd just kind of drag it around the yard."

"That's...very sad."

"His name was Bill, by the way. Not that you care. I'm just saying."

"I really am pressed for time. Was there anything else you wanted to bring to my attention?"

“Right, sorry. I wouldn't want you to have to be here any longer than necessary. You might catch the crazy."

"Well, I wasn't attempting to imply..."

"No, I get it. You've got places to go and people to see. I'd go places too, if I could. Rub it in, why don't you?"

"Right. I didn't mean to be insensitive. Will you be...getting out anytime soon?"

"Probably not. They said they re-evaluate me after the next round of shocks. But they always say that."

"Perhaps I should speak with Dr. Nolan."

"Oh, don't do that."

"If you have a complaint about your treatment..."

"He doesn't like it when we tell people what goes on here."

"He's always been very receptive to my feedback in the past."

"That's just his cover. Yeah, he's not even a real psychiatrist."

"Uh huh. Well, I'll certainly look into that."

"Oh, would you? Thank God. It's been keeping me up nights."

"Yes, of course. Do you have any other complaints?"

"Uh...yeah. The food is unacceptable.”

“There’s a problem with the food?”

“Is there some reason they can’t put mustard in the potato salad? I mean, who the hell makes potato salad without mustard?”

“As a matter of fact, my grandmother had a recipe that…”

“And what the hell is up with the bacon?”

“The bacon?”

“It’s practically pink. I mean, are they trying to give us trichinosis? What's the mortality rate around here, anyway? I wanna see some numbers.”

“The kitchen is inspected regularly by the federal…”

“And the fruit cocktail. By the time I get it, there are no cherries left. Which is the only good part, really. I mean, nobody likes the pears or the peaches. Am I right? And I know that Del Monte makes it now with extra cherries. I've seen commercials. But these guys are probably trying to save by buying government surplus from some warehouse in Hackensack…”

“Mr. House…”

“Doctor.”

“Wow, really? Okay. Well…I don’t have any creative control over the menu per se. My job is more geared towards patient...”

“And enough with the homestyle orange juice already. Are they trying to choke us to death with pulp? My bowels are moving just fine, thank you. They don't need any help."

"That's...good to know.

"Have they never heard of Sunny Delight? It's probably cheaper and it definitely tastes better.”

“I can fill out a request for the fruit cocktail and the orange juice. But the other things are more along the lines of...”

“Also…I refuse to allow them to keep washing my undergarments with floral scented detergent. If I wanted my junk to smell like roses, I'd buy a can of Glade and do the honors myself.”

“Oh boy…”

"Of course that would probably cause a nasty rash."

"I'm going to go now."

"This one time, I jerked off with some of that Pam cooking spray. Never again."

"Goodbye."

"Okay, goodbye. Enjoy the outside world with your cherry-filled fruit cocktail and unscented boxer briefs."

"Dear God."