My name is Dr. Gregory House, and right now I have a guy in a bat costume in my basement.
No, I don't have an unusual kinky side. The guy has broken bones, and it isn't because of BDSM. Scout's honor.
My day started pretty well. Went to the hospital and treated a guy diagnosed with cancer. Amazing, right? Alright, so he was wrongly diagnosed with cancer and actually had an infection in his spleen, but it sounded better before. Okay, so Foreman did most of the work, but hey, I made it all look pretty, right?
An idle conversation with Wilson and a snappy retort at Cuddy's ass later, there I was going home in my spiffy new car. I guessed I should go ahead and buy it, and I couldn't buy a new leg, so it was sorta the next best thing. I also guessed I shouldn't be driving high, but laws are for the weak! Cue evil laughter.
The good stuff was kicking in by the time I was almost home. Everything snapped into focus really nicely and while I was pretty sure that driving while seeing everything pink and green wasn't safe, it was worth it. At least my damned leg didn't hurt, and that right there was worth it. Unless I hit something really fast and became a cripple on both legs. That wouldn't be cool.
As if good ol' Cthulu had heard me say it, a big black thing crashed into my windshield, showering me in glass and blood drops. I felt everything blur and then the car hit something big. Probably a wall. For all I knew it could be Cuddy's butt, or maybe my own ego. Hard to tell which was bigger.
As I pried my face from the inflated bag, I found myself looking into the lens clad eyes of a guy with rabbit ears.
He groaned. "Help..."
Since my eyes didn't hurt, I rolled them. "Oh, joy."