"Basically, you're morbidly obese."

Obese, yes. Morbidly?

"I'm the doctor here. If I say it's morbid, it's morbid. Hell, I could've just called you a fat ass."

You just did.

"So what. Face facts. Your ass is kinda fat. If you wanted to be treated like a REAL person, get some REAL fucking insurance. I hate it when you state card wielding bastards come in here demanding free help."

Don't talk to me like that. Diabetes, high-blood pressure, whatever, I'll kick your ass!

"Sure you will. And I'll write you a prescription that'll change your whole fucking life! It doesn't matter who you are outside these doors. In here, you're no one. I'm the man. Remember that!"

You fucking asshole, I should...

"You SHOULD stop eating all that bullshit you're putting in your system. You SHOULD start exercising. That's what you should do. I want you to lose 5 pounds a week for the next year. If you do that, you might live to see your children graduate. If not, tell them to start making plans to bury your fat, morbidly obese ass."

There you go again with that bullshit!

"Maintain low tones with me fatty, we're not done here yet. I want you to keep a record of all the shit you put in your mouth. If your Kentucky Fried Chicken eatin' ass isn't losing weight, I want to know why. Now get you disgusting looking ass out of my damned office. I'll see you in a month if you haven't killed yourself."

Prick. I hate going to the doctor!

Fisk: OUT!