(A doctor in his office. BOB the patient comes in via the door.)

DOCTOR: Ah, Bob. Sit down, please.

(he sits.)

DOCTOR: I'm afraid I have some bad news. I'm not quite sure how to say this, but out of respect for you I won't sugar-coat it. Are you ready?

BOB: O... okay. I'm ready.

DOCTOR: You have a tumour in your brain.

BOB: Oh...

DOCTOR: Seriously, it is huge.

BOB: Um...

DOCTOR: Brobdingnagian!

BOB: Wait, wait! How big is that?

DOCTOR: It means enormous. See, if you examine this x-ray here, you will notice that it is roughly the size of a horse.

BOB: What.

DOCTOR: Your tumour is larger than your head.

BOB: How does that work?

DOCTOR: Well, to properly explain this to you, I brought along a friend of mine. He's a physicist.

(PHYSICIST jumps out from behind the desk.)

PHYS: Well, you see, your tumour has somehow extended beyond the normal dimensions of space and time into an n-dimensional non-Euclidean hyperspace with a surprisingly non-zero quantum probability.


BOB: What?

PHYS: (to DOCTOR) I thought you said he went to university!

BOB: I do Arts.

(PHYSICIST and DOCTOR recoil.)

DOCTOR: Oh God, it's worse than I thought!

(Suddenly the TUMOUR bursts in.)

TUMOUR: That is not funny!

PHYS: Who the hell are you?

TUMOUR: I'm the tumour, who do you think! And I have had it up to here with bloody Arts jokes! You arseholes think you're so hot because you're getting a Bachelor of Science! Well you know what? Everyone has one! I know spleens with science degrees! It's not some special, la-di-dah super-degree that automatically makes you a better member of society!


TUMOUR: You got something to say to me?

DOCTOR: Well, what would you know, you're a tumour -

TUMOUR: Oh, so you're racist too? You wanna start something? 'Cause guess what – I'm malignant, bitch!

(he suddenly takes a step back and calms a bit.)

TUMOUR: You know what? Not worth it. Forget it. I'm out of here. (he flips off the PHYSICIST on his way out and delivers a parting shot:) Swivel on it!

BOB: Doc, what -

(TUMOUR bursts back in and marches up to face the audience.)


(The TUMOUR storms out again. The lights cut out when he slams the door.)