Chris?

Goodbye, Chris.

Well, Chris,

Hi, Chris.

Good morning, Chris.

It's your tonsils, Chris.

Cry it out loud, Chris.

Chris, how do you feel?

You know, Chris, it's stupid and...

Chris, why must you always jerk us around?

Chris, unfortunately you can't die from a tonsillectomy.

If something should happen and, well, I'm not able to enjoy life the way I'm able to now, like, well, being able to eat as many Fritos as I like, or pulling ticks off the cat, or watching bananas get those little brown spots on them.

Now, Chris, I do hope you will say something if I'm doing anything whatsoever that's bothering you.

Oh, good, because this is one of the few times I'm actually prepared for one of your little visits, Chris.

Oh, Chris, you do this to me every year, and then at the last minute, you decide not to get the liposuction.

Can you see in there?

Well, take your shirt off and I'll have a look.

Do what?

Your shirt, Mr. Peterson.

How dare you exploit my pain to get your own private little sex show?