"You know, you really don't need anything this strong. I can just use the Novocain. That'll work just fine."
"No, no, I need the strong stuff," insisted Jerry. "J-just, just give me the gas, okay?
"I ... all right, but ..."
"Oh, for Christ sake, Doctor, I'm paying you, now just, just use the gas, man. I swear I need it, I, uh, I can feel the pain, okay?"
It was a complete lie, of course. Jerry felt no pain, but damn, that laughing gas was some tough stuff. Dr. Burnbaum guiltily ordered his assistant to bring it in. "Alicia, we need the gas in here, please. And bring Felicia, too." It tickled Jerry to hear the doctor call in Alicia and Felicia, cause they're names were so similar, but he realized it wasn't really that funny. "O.k., gals, I'm ready. Just relax, okay, Jerry?"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever, just do your thing, Doc."
The doc put the mask over Jerry, who began to happily drift away. Everything started to feel much better. It was taking effect very quickly. As Burnbaum started to put in the filling, Jerry began to mull it over again. Alicia, Felicia, Alicia, Felicia. "Oh my God, that is so hilarious!" he thought, beginning to realize. How had he not noticed it before? "Alicia, Felicia, ha ha ..."
"Jerry, please don't talk during the procedure. Alicia, up his dose a little bit, here ..." Jerry smiled.
At home, Samantha was very worried. "Dr. Quaig, you've got to help us. I've noticed at least five empty canisters of this stuff."
"How much has he bought? How much has he taken into his system by now ..."
"I don't know, but yesterday, I told him that my uncle Herbert had an infarction in his leg and he wouldn't stop laughing. He just kept repeating the words 'Herbert' and 'infarction'to himself and laughing until he wrapped himself in a blanket and fell asleep under the fireplace. This has got to stop! I mean, he's a real-estate agent for crying out loud and he's missed two weeks of work."
"You've got to understand, Sammy, that it can very difficult to wean oneself off such a highly addictive substance like nitrous ..."
"Please, look, we're getting everyone together today and you're his childhood doctor, it'll really help if you're there."
It pained Dr. Quaig very deeply to learn of the suffering of his old patient and friend. He thought of a solution to help Jerry and replied to the wife, "All right, Sammy, all right. Look, I'll get some supplies together and meet you there. When are you doing it?"
Jerry was unaware of all of this. His tooth truly hadn't needed any filling. He really could have postponed the procedure, but boy was he feelin' good! On a whim, he called up his friend and broker, Harold. "Hey, hey Harold, ha ha ... you know I just realized that in that movie The Dark Knight, ha ha, there's no way that the Joker could've crashed that party, ha ha ... I mean, it was at Wayne manor. That thing is a fortress, ha ha."
"H-hello, is this Jerry?"
"Ha ha, y-you know, of course Bruce Wayne is Batman. I mean, anyone could figure that out, ha ha. Those people are so stupid, ha ..."
"J-jerry, are you all right, man? Wh-what's going on, I haven't spoken to you in three weeks ..."
"First I was Katie Holmes, now I'm Maggie Gyllenhaal, ha ha ... Katie, Maggie, ha, Katie, Maggie, ha ha ..."
"Look, Jerry, I'm glad you called, because I need to talk to you about your finances. The market's been rocky, lately, but you've been withdrawing ridiculous amounts of moneys out of your account and your losing your savings. I can't imagine what you're spending it on but you're almost broke ..."
"... Katie, Maggie, ha ha ... oh my God, and how on earth could a bunch of hot female circus pilots take out Fort Knox. It makes no sense - you know, from that movie, Goldfinger ... pussy galore, ha ha ..."
"Jerry, you need help, man."
"Y-you need help, shut up. Don't call me again," Jerry hung up. Ha ha ... good old Harold. He was always there for him. At last, Jerry arrived at his home. As he walked through the door, all of his friends and family immediately surrounded him.
"Jerry," said Dr. Quaig. "It's clear that you need help."
"Daddy, please listen to him. We love you so much," pleaded little Julie, her big eyes looking up at him with urgent, loving concern.
"W-who the hell are you?" Jerry asked, "Ha ha, I swear I did not know I had a kid. Did this happen recently?"
Samantha was near hysterics. "He's out of his mind, Dr. Quaig. Look at him and that stupid smile. Isn't there anything that can make him stop?"
"I don't know," mused Quaig. "I noticed at least twenty canisters of what he's been taking thrown to the side in the basement. It's apparently a derivative of nitrous that's far more powerful than what most people take. Whatever it is, he's taken so much of it that your husband finds everything funny. There may be nothing that I can do to prevent him from being a douchebag for the rest of his life."
Everyone was very upset at this. They all looked at Jerry, who was still smiling broadly. There seemed to be no hope.
"Isn't there something, Doctor."
"Well," began Quaig. "There is something, but I'm loathe to try it. The people on whom I've tried this treatment have rarely survived."
"Please, we'll try anything."
Quaig'stone became ominous. "All right, Sammy," he began. "But the only way to cure your husband's symptoms is to subject him to such pain, something so bleak and mind-numbing that it will snap him out of this dreadful need to laugh at every stupid thing he hears." Everyone in the room immediately piped up, expressing their desire to give the treatment a try. "All right, then," sighed Quaig. I'll need a DVD player and a 32 inch TV, set, on the double!"
Days later, the treatment was over. Jerry's good friends and family had stayed by him the whole way. They'd strapped him to a chair. His screams had been unbearable, and yet they'd stayed on to tend to him, to clean up after him and nurse him back to health. For a while, they'd feared he'd been lost to the torture. But on the third day, suddenly, his silly smile disappeared into a relieved calmness.
"Wait!" cried Samantha. "Look!"
"Good God, I think it's worked!" shouted Dr. Burnbaum, who had come to oversee the treatment alongside Quaig, a longtime colleague. Jerry smiled, this time an honest smile. He seemed himself again, as though released from an awful spell.
"H-hey, guys, it's me! It's me, Jerry! I-I'm back, I'm CURED!"
Celebrations all around. Jerry hugged his friends and family, who all offered him their congratulations and vowed to help him get back up on his feet, financially, as he recuperated.
"Let this be a lesson, Jerry, to never experiment with dangerous addictive substances ever again."
"I promise I won't, Dr. Quaig. Just please ..." he begged, with a plea coming from his very depths, "... please don't subject me to that, again."
"Don't worry," said Quaig. "You're cured, and as long as you remain that way, they'll be no need for you to ever have to endure this."
And with that, everyone left the room as Dr. Quaig, his eyes overflowing with joy over the return of his beloved friend, removed the fifth season of "Lost" from the DVD player and placed it back in his medical bag for future treatments. He had done his duty, for being a doctor was surely the most rewarding job because of moments like this.