Take out my fucken jugular
[Dr. Silaconne M. Plants is seen sitting in what appears to be a waiting room, more apparent after a woman in tight fitting neon green scrubs sticks her head out of a nearby door…]
Nurse: Mr. Donally, the surgeon will see you now.
[A man walks in front of the camera focused on SMP, he’s dressed in camouflage and has an arrow lodged in his left ass cheek.]
Nurse: I hate bow season…
[Moments later, another woman leans through the door…]
Nurse: Mrs. Farga, the surgeon will see you now.
[A woman walks by Plants, her wrists are bleeding profusely and veins can be seen hanging out in all directions. Coincidence? Probably. Finally, a third nurse in pink scrubs also appears at the door.]
Nurse: Dr. Plants? We have a surgeon that would like to talk with you.
[SMP saunters down a hall and into a small room on the right.]
Nurse: Wait here, he’ll be with you shortly.
[SMP waits patiently, rubbing his neck while reading a generic magazine placed in the exam room to stave off boredom. Within minutes, a doctor-type guy walks in.]
Surgeon: Welcome, Dr. Plants. Nice to have a fellow surgeon as a patient. I’ll take extra special care of you, you know how we like to treat our own and all the other patients are just numbers and complaints and names without faces, right? * wink *
[He laughs at his own remark, Plants acknowledges the rib with a nod.]
Surgeon: What can I do for you today?
[The Doc tosses the magazine aside, and with all the composure he can muster…]
SMP: I need you to remove my jugular.
Surgeon: Come again?
SMP: Take out my fucken jugular.
Surgeon: There’s no need for profanity, sir. Wait, did you say fucken or fucking?
SMP: Yes. My fucken jugular. With an “e-n”. That’s correct. I need you to remove it.
Surgeon: Umm, you realize that will kill you.
SMP: No, you misunderstood. Leave the regular jugular. Remove the fucken jugular. I can live on one, right?
Surgeon: You ARE a doctor, am I correct in that assumption?
SMP: Yes, but I’m a plastic surgeon. Breasts.
Surgeon: So, you don’t really count as a medical doctor?
SMP: Technically, I do. But for the sake of this promo let’s pretend I don’t know a thing about real doctoring.
Surgeon: You don’t seem as though you know much about augmentations, either.
SMP: That’s beside the point. Can you help me?
[The surgeon looks at Plants as if wondering whether or not he’s serious.]
Surgeon: I suppose.
SMP: Then take out my fucken jugular. If I don’t have my fucken jugular, American Panda can’t eat my fucken jugular, take my ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS, and liberate pandas across the globe in a fucken jugular eating frenzy. I’m saving the planet, Doc. The survival of the human race is counting on my defeating American Panda.
Surgeon: This…. is a REAL panda you’re talking about?
SMP: Yes.
Surgeon: Defeating you?
SMP: Yes, in a professional wrestling match. I’m the “Dirtiest Boobie Enhancer in Wrestling Today™”, heard of me?
Surgeon: No. But I’m interested in your wrestling a panda. A real panda bear?
SMP: Yes, he said he was going to eat my fucken jugular.
Surgeon: He [i]said[/i] that? * ahem * You don’t need a surgeon, you need a psychiatrist.
SMP: Can he remove my fucken jugular? Just the fucken jugular, that’s all.
Surgeon: Listen, there’s the external jugular vein, which is formed by the junction of the posterior auricular and the retromandibular veins, passes down the side of the neck superficial to the sternocleidomastoid muscle, and empties into the subclavian vein. Then there’s the two internal jugular veins which collect the blood from the brain, the superficial parts of the face, and the neck. Of course, you can’t overlook the anterior jugular vein that arises below the chin from the veins draining the chin and lower lip, passes down the front of the neck superficially, and terminates in the external jugular vein at the lateral border of the anterior scalene muscle. Okay? There’s no ”fucken” jugular.
SMP: Can you put that in writing and send it to American Panda? If he thinks I don’t have one, maybe he won’t bite me.
Surgeon: Are you serious?
SMP: YES! Did you see his GRAPHS?
Surgeon: I’m going to write you a consult to a colleague of mine, he can…. ummm, help you.
SMP: As long as he takes out my fucken jugular, it’s a deal.
Surgeon: Yeah, he can take out your fucken jugular. *rolls eyes* Excuse me, I have to make a call and see if he has an open appointment.
[The surgeon flips open a cell phone, waits a few seconds, and…]
Surgeon: [whispering] Hey, buddy. Got one for ya…
….yeah, he’s a loon. Anything open this week?
No?
Next week?
You have to take THIS one, we’ll be laughing at the golf course for months.
You do?
Sweet. I’ll send him over there next week then…
I think he does….
[The surgeon looks at Plants…]
Surgeon: You do have insurance, right?
SMP: Oh yeah, yeah. That’s what I’m doing right now, getting insurance. American Panda will not defeat me. No fucken jugular, no eating of fucken jugular, no win. That’s insurance! A foolproof policy!
[The surgeon is back to his phone conversation.]
He’s a five star whacko. See you at the country club.
[The Surgeon hangs up.]
Surgeon: You’re all set, Dr. Plants. He’ll see you next week and, uhrah… remove that pesky fucken jugular for you.
SMP: Thank you so much! You’re aces, kid!
[SMP jumps up and runs out of the office with renewed vigor. Wait awaits the “Sinister Surgeon©” next week? Will he survive fucken jugular removal?]
SMP: Shut up, narrator guy! Drastic means calls for drastic measures! Not just Chinese pandas… ALL PANDAS MUST DIE!