"Hey, doc, could ya look at this?" that annoying, grey-haired guy said as he pointed at those weird, scaly lesions on his arm. "I'm gettin' a little worried about it."
"Hmmm, I think I know what that is," lied Jack, looking at it thoughtfully. "I'm just going to go check something with something to confirm my theory, and I'll be right back."
Jack thought he might have heard him say "OK, Doc, I'll be waiting" or something like that as he scampered out of the examination room, but he wasn't sure, he wasn't really listening. He ran down the hall to his office, got on WebMD.com and looked up articles on skin. When he found a picture of what he'd seen on the man's arm, he shouted "BINGO!"
He quickly returned to the examination room.
"What is it, Dr. Mehoff?" asked the man, looking concerned.
"Well, you know that movie Hope Floats with Sandra Bullock that came out, oh, 'bout ten years ago or so?" Jack asked him as he planted himself on his stool.
"I, uh, think I heard ab--"
"Well, yours dun sunk, dude!" Jack interrupted. "You've bought the farm! Bought a one-way ticket to Wormsville! You're gonna die!"
"Wha--wha-- WHAT?!" the man exclaimed.
"Yessiree, Mr.. uh.. Mr.."
"Updike! You have skin cancer. I give you about..."
Jack looked at his hands and mentally played eenie meenie meinie mo with them.
"...six weeks to live!" Jack finished.
"Oh my God," said Mr. Uphshaw, or Uphill, or whatever, stunned, looking down at his lap. "I'm gonna... die?!"
"Looks like it!"
"Well, I've got so much to do yet," Mr. Underhill said, slowly shaking his head, "like that novel I've wanted to write, that gazebo I've been wanting to build for my wife..."
"Then get on it!" Jack exclaimed enthusiastically, pumping his arm in the air. "Git 'ir done! Time's a-wastin!"
"But, Doc, what about treatm--?"
"Whoah, look at the time!" Jack said, looking down at his Homer Simpson Burger King watch. "I've got other patients. See ya, Mr. uh, Mr... Mister!"
"Get out, come on, go write that gazebo!" Jack interrupted. "Scoot!" He ushered Lesion Man out of the room and closed the door. Then he lied on the table and looked up at the document hanging on his wall that looked remarkably like a real medical license.
"Medical license, schmedical license!" Jack said to himself. "I so rock!!" Then he got up and jumped on his stool.
"Whooo whoo whooo!" he said, very badly imitating an ambulance siren as he spun himself around on the squeaky stool.