Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Not making any money off of it.

Dr. Gregory House woke up with a severe headache.

"Shit," he muttered, his head feeling peculiarly like a peace off iron banged a couple too many times.

He grabbed his wooden cane, which was leaning against his bed and staggered into the kitchen. Ignoring the growing pile of dishes that he had ignored for several days now, he got out a cup and pored himself some coffee. Plopping himself down in a chair, he drained the coffee black, and pored himself another cup. He really shouldn't have drunken all that scotch last night, but he had been so bored. He would make the same mistake again, so no worry.

Three cups of coffee later, House finally got up and dressed. His hangover had subsided to a dull throb. Popping a vicodin, he put on his gym shoes and coat, got out of his apartment and onto his motorcycle, and drove to work.

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Two hours later House was sitting in exam room 2, eating a chocolate bar, and watching general hospital. An ugly, frizzy-haired woman was just begging a handsome doctor to marry her when the door opened, and Cuddy walked in.

"Why do you do this?" She asked, looking extremely exasperated.

"I like chocolate," House replied, looking very innocent, gesturing towards the TV screen, "And general hospital."

"You're supposed to be seeing patients right now."

"And as a result of some fortunate miscommunication, I am not seeing patients right now, nor am I planning to do so in the near future." House fired back at his boss.

"I don't care what you were planning on doing; you are going to see patients." Cuddy ordered, and held the door open for House as he put away his little TV and dejectedly limped through it.

Cuddy really had gotten agitated lately. Ooooooo, something bad must have gone on in her private life. Maybe her boyfriend dumped her. He would have to find out. Maybe try braking into her house again. House just loved puzzles.

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"My leg hurts," complained the patient.

"Yeah, I think I could have figured that out, since you are in a clinic," House said sarcastically, "It was quite obvious that it is your leg by the way you are limping, so basically, saying that was a complete waste of precious time that could have been spent watching General Hospital."

"Yesterday, I was going to take the buss home from work," persisted the brown haired, 30 year old male whose leg was hurting, "But then I missed it and had to walk, because the bus only comes every half-hour. So, I was walking back home, but I got thirsty, and went into a Starbucks, got a latte, and kept on walking. But then, with the latte in my hand I didn't have the best of balance so I…"

"So you were born when?" House rudely interrupted.

"What?"

"If you're going to tell me your life story, you might as well start from when you were born. Or when your parents had a rough round of sex and ended up with a little baby kicking around in your mother's uterus. Basically, just tell me what happened in lets see…five words."

"I…tripped...going…down…steps." The patient said deliberately, "But I don't know…" He was there cut off by House.

"There, that's enough. You told me what happened. Now show me the leg."

There was a long cut that was barely bleeding going down the stupid ever-talking patient's leg.

House walked closer to get a better look at it. But he slipped, and, to keep himself from falling, grabbed the patient's bad leg, in the exact place the cut was.

"Owwwwwwwwwww" screamed the patient, "you're killing me."

"Owww," House winced, "Please stop yelling; it hurts my head."

It took quite a while to get the patient to calm down. After a bribe of twenty bucks not to complain to anyone about him, and a vicodin for both of them, House finally came to the solution.

"Here, I think I know the perfect thing for your leg. They're cheep, legal, and an odd combination of plastic, gauze, and some sort of sticky stuff." Pausing for dramatic effect, House put on an expression of sheer wonder, before he turned it into a sarcastic 'you are so pathetic' look. "A couple of Band-Aids."

The patient finally left and House, with a sigh went on to see the next boring old patient waiting to have their dreadfully painful swollen big toe looked at.

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AN: Hoped you liked it. I'm going to try and make the other chapters funnier. This was a bit of a slow start. Review please.