Scans show nothing wrong with Yang, but, still, he is there.
“Look, I’m sure you have wonderful insurance, Yang, but this is gone too far.”
Yang crosses his arms over his chest. He’s a small man but has a large frown. “Are you telling me you do not want more business? It’s a dumb thing to deny service to a repeat customer.”
“Helping you…” the doctor begins to explain, before sighing. He parts back his hair and stares off at something for a moment. “Helping you is infuriating, if I am being honest, and you taking up all my time makes it so others do not get a chance for healing. That’s unethical.”
“I feel sick,” Yang persists. “I have aches and pains and ulcers, and all sorts of horrible things wrong with me.”
“And you plan on doing this forever, then?”
“Until you can cure me of it. I am sick, doctor.”
The doctor peers off to the side again. He sees a scalpel, and before he can deny himself the pleasure, stabs it down into the foot of the annoying Yang. He yelps and screams and clutches at the injury.
“There, now you are injured. And you can be my patient.”
Yang looks up, and through the tears, utters a quiet thank you.