Written by Mindy Kaling
Directed by Bryan Gordon
Jim: [off camera] Yeah, that’s right.
Michael: Pam! It’s Michael. Help me! I need help right now.
Pam: Michael, what’s wrong?
Michael: I’m hurt, I have hurt myself. Oh my God!
Pam: Ok, wait wait wait wait…
Michael: Ungh, this is not looking good Pam!
Pam: Michael, do you need me to call an ambulance?!
Michael: No, I want you to pick me up.
Jim: What’s going on?
Pam: Wait a second, I thought you said that you were hurt.
Michael: I am hurt. I hurt my foot.
Jim: I’m sorry? Pam.
Jim: What is going on?
Michael: I want to come to work. But I need you to come and pick me up. [Jim lunges across Pam’s desk and puts Michael on speakerphone]
Michael: OH GOD!
Jim: Hey, whoa, Michael…
Michael: Oh God!
Jim: It’s, okay, it’s Jim. Just say again, uh, really loudly what happened.
Michael: OK, buhhhh, I burned my foot very badly on my Foreman Grill and I now need someone to come and bring me into work.
Jim: You burned your foot on a Foreman Grill?
Pam: Uh, I have to stay here and answer the phone.
Michael: Ok, could someone come and get me please, Ryan?
Phyllis: Michael, you should stay home and rest.
Michael: There’s no toilet paper here. Could Ryan… tell Ryan to bring toilet paper. Could you tell ’em that?
Kevin: Can you hop?
Michael: I tried hopping, Kevin, and I bumped my elbow against the wall and now my elbow has a protruberance.
Michael: [panicked] No one wants to pick me up!?
Dwight: [silence, Dwight enters the office] What is going on? What is going on?
Pam: Michael, is, um, sick and he wants one of us to rescue him.
Michael: I’m not sick! I’m burned!
Dwight: I’m coming Michael!
Dwight: I’m gonna save you!
Michael: Don’t… is that Dwight? I do not want Dwight.
Dwight: Hold on Michael! I am coming! Wait there!
Michael: I don’t want Dwight!
Pam: Michael, why don’t you call your girlfriend?
Michael: I don’t have a girlfriend.
Jim: But you said that you went out with her this weekend.
Michael: It was all made up. Just someone come, ok? Anyone. Anyone but Dwight.
Jim: [sounds of a car crash] What was that…
Pam: What was that?! [everyone runs to Michael’s office window]
Jim: He hit the pole!
Jim: It’s broken right, he can’t…
Pam: Oh my gosh.
Jim: Oh Dwight, Dwight, [Dwight pukes on his back windshield] Ohhhhhh!
Jim and Pam: Oh my God!
Pam: Is he ok?
Jim: He’s still driving… Dwight, you forgot your bumper!
Michael: Hellooo? … Please don’t send Dwight!
Pam: You missed two big conference calls today, one with corporate.
Michael: Did you explain why?
Pam: No, I didn’t mention that you cooked your foot.
Michael: Burned my foot, Pam.
Jim: So, where are you shipping your foot?
Michael: Ha ha ha. So where are you shipping…
Dwight: Your foot?
Pam: You didn’t have any.
Michael: Really, well, it, uh, seemed very important to you earlier that you needed to stay and…
Pam: And do my job?
Michael: No, your job is being my friend, Pam. OW! God!
Dwight: [holding mini-fan] It slipped.
Pam: It’s just that before, you said that you didn’t want any special treatment.
Michael: I don’t want any special treatment, Pam. I just want you to treat me like you would some family member who’s undergone some sort of serious physical trauma. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.
Pam: Do you want some aspirin, because you seem a little fussy.
Michael: No, I don’t want some aspirin, yeah I’m a little fussy. Aspirin’s not gonna do a damn thing. I’m sitting here with a bloody stump of a foot.
Dwight: Hey, Pam, I’m assistant regional manager, and I can take care of him. Part of my duties are to.
Michael: What? Part of your duties are to what?
Michael: You just said “part of your duties are to” something.
Dwight: No, I didn’t.
Michael: Yes, you did. What is wrong with you?
Dwight: What is wrong with you?
Ryan: Here you go.
Michael: Thank you. Did you get all dark meat like I like?
Ryan: Yes. I ordered three full rotisserie chickens worth of all dark meat.
Michael: Where are the yams?
Ryan: They were out of yams. I got you creamed spinach.
Michael: Did you go to the one in Stroudsburg?
Michael: And they had no yams?
Ryan: They had no yams.
Michael: How strange. Because they always have yams.
Pam: You’ve seen one of these?
Dwight: Yeah, they’re like an i-Pod only they’re better ’cause they’re chunkier and more solid.
Pam: Roy gave it to me for Christmas. I’m trying to figure out how to put songs on it.
Dwight: Oh, no no no. Don’t go there. I know this Russian website where you can download songs for two cents a piece.
Dwight: Yeah, I’ll write down the address for you. Only, the only thing is, is that all the songs are in Russian. … Kidding!
Pam: Oh! Ha, haha.
Dwight: Why would they all be…? Ok, see you later, Pan.
Pam: Oh, God.
Pam: [phone rings] What.
Michael: Come here please.
Pam: Tell me before I come there.
Michael: I want you to rub butter on my foot.
Michael: Pam, please? I have Country Crock.
Michael: Uh, ow. Ryan! … Ryaaaaan … RYYYYAN!
Dwight: Yeah. Throw it. I promise it won’t break. Chuck it. [Pam throws her mp3 player]
Dwight: Oh no, it’s broken.
Dwight: No, it’s fine. I told you it wouldn’t break. You could throw it all day long.
Pam: That is so cool. Thanks Dwight!
Angela: It’s alright.
Dwight: Cause you’re sweeter than candy.
Angela: What is wrong with you? [Dwight pats Angela on the rear and runs away laughing]
Ryan: You know, around age twelve, I just started goin’ for it.
Michael: [loud noise in bathroom] No! Guh! OW! Awww, help, help me!
Toby: What, what happened?
Michael: I fell off the toilet. I’m caught between the toilet and the wall.
Toby: What do you need?
Michael: Ugh, not you. Someone else. Get Pam.
Toby: I don’t think Pam’s gonna want to come into the men’s room.
Michael: Get Ryan. He needs to lift me. [Ryan shakes his head] and he needs to clean me up a little bit. Bring a wet towel.
Toby: Ryan, is, uh, dead.
Michael: No, he’s not.
Michael: I just saw him.
Toby: No. Can’t, can’t you just get up yourself? I… You only grilled your foot.
Michael: Ugh, forget it. I’ll just get up myself. No! Uh, aaaahhh! Ah! Oh God!
Pam: No, he’s actually been really nice and helpful.
Jim: And that isn’t weird?
Michael: Can I have everyone’s attention please? Phyllis, Oscar, Ryan, who’s supposed to be dead, can I ask you all a question? Do you all know what it’s like to be disabled? Oscar?
Phyllis: Um, I had scoliosis as a girl.
Michael: No, never heard of it. No, a real disability, not a woman’s trouble.
Creed: When I was a teenager, I was in an iron lung.
Michael: Wuh, how, how old are you? Look, the point is, I am the only one here who has a legitimate disability, although I’m sure Stanley has had his fair share of obstacles.
Stanley: I’m not disabled and neither are you.
Michael: Ok, [lifts up cooked foot] what does this look like to you Stanley?!
Stanley: Mailboxes, Etc.
Michael: Shuuut it, ok, well, well you know what, disabilities are not things to be laughed at or laughed about. You people are jerks. Imagine if you had left Stevie Wonder on the floor of that bathroom instead of me.
Phyllis: Oh, we wouldn’t. We love Stevie Wonder.
Michael: [sigh] I burned my foot!!! Ok, twenty minutes, conference room, everybody’s in there!
Dwight: [looking up at Creed] Dad?
Jim: Quick question: uh, why is Tom Hanks on the wall?
Michael: Good question. Forrest Gump: mentally challenged, Philadelphia [points to a picture from Big]: AIDS.
Kevin: I think that’s from Big.
Michael: I don’t think so, no.
Kelly: Yeah, he’s dancing on a piano with Robert Loggia.
Michael: He grew into a man overnight. Rare disability, still works. [sigh] A crossword puzzle Stanley, seriously, are you learning nothing here?
Stanley: Uh hmmmm… .
Michael: What you mean uh hmmm… ?
Stanley: I mean I’m learning nothing.
Billy Merchant: Michael Scott, I’m looking for Michael Scott.
Michael: Yes, right in here, come on in.
Billy Merchant: Great.
Michael: This, ladies and gentlemen, is our special guest.
Billy Merchant: Sorry I’m late. Someone parked in the handicapped parking space.
Billy Merchant: Hey everyone, I’m Billy Merchant, you may have seen me around here before, I’m the properties manager of this office park
Michael: You are so brave. You are so brave.
Billy Merchant: Thank you. Actually, I’ve been meaning to come by here for a long time…
Michael: But it’s hard for you! Right? Because you’re in a wheelchair.
Billy Merchant: No, I just have a lot of properties to manage.
Michael: Let me ask you something, how long does it take for you to do something simple, every day, like brush your teeth in the morning?
Billy Merchant: I don’t know, like 30 seconds?
Michael: Oh my God, that’s three times as long as it takes me.
Michael: How did you get in your wheelchair?
Billy Merchant: This morning? Just like every other morning, just climbed on in. [Everyone laughs]
Michael: Hey, hey, hey, not funny! Not funny.
Billy Merchant: Hey, hey, relax, just jokin around here.
Michael: Well, that’s good, he still has a sense of humor.
Billy Merchant: Listen, I’ve actually used a chair since I was four years old. I don’t really notice it anymore.
Michael: Well they notice it. Don’t you? You notice it. It’s the first thing you saw when he rolled in here, isn’t it?
Billy Merchant: First is parking. You can’t block the freight entrance with your car, even if your blinkers are on. Does anybody have any questions? [to Dwight, whose arms is raised] Yes. Yeah? yes…
Pam: Dwight, you have your hand up.
Michael: Ignore him. You know what? We’re not that different, you and I. When I clamped my foot into a non-stick…
Billy Merchant: You know what Michael?
Billy Merchant: Let me stop you right there.
Billy Merchant: And leave.
Jim: You mean today? He stepped on a George Foremen grill and he burned his foot.
Billy Merchant: No, not Michael. The moon-faced kid who crashed into the pole. He looks like he has a concussion.
Ryan: I found the pudding cups you wanted in a gas station in Carbondale!
Michael: You did it! Look at you, and with the plate and the napkin. Very nice. Thank you, Ryan.
Ryan: You are very welcome.
Michael: Did you get the yams?
Ryan: No, the gas station in Carbondale did not have fresh yams!
Michael: [sigh] Ok, I’ll just have the pudding.
Ryan: You sure?
Dwight: [hits his head on his desk] Uh, ugh, ohhhh…
Jim: Uh, ok, I think we need to take him to the hospital because I’m pretty sure he has a concussion.
Michael: Oh, now you feel some compassion for him.
Angela: He needs to go right now, and you’re his emergency contact. I think that you should go with him.
Michael: Why don’t you go with him?
Angela: I, barely know him…
Dwight: I want Michael to take me…
Michael: I can’t take you, I don’t have my car and yours is all vomity.
Meredith: You can take my van!
Michael: Oh, ok, that’s, great. No, I can’t drive. Jim why don’t you drive.
Michael: We’ll go. I’m still recovering. So let’s just, Ryan, could you get my coat please.
Jim: Slowly, slowly. Let’s just get to the elevator.
Dwight: Choo choo choo choo choo choo…
Jim: What are you doing? What, stop…
Dwight: Vietnam sounds.
Jim: [Dwight falls onto the couch] Stop, stop, stop, stop.
Dwight: Tired… [Jim grabs spray bottle from planter]
Jim: You can’t lay down.
Dwight: Want to take a rake… .
Jim: Wake up. [sprays Dwight]
Pam: Dwight, here, let me help you Dwight.
Jim: I’m just gonna get…
Dwight: Ok, Pam, thanks.
Pam: Get up, get up.
Dwight: You’re the best.
Jim: Just keep him awake.
Dwight: It smells like chicken soup.
Pam: I know.
Dwight: I have to go to the hospital.
Pam: I know.
Dwight: Where we going?
Pam: I just want to say goodbye ok?
Dwight: I’ll be back, I mean…
Pam: Yes, I know, but it’s gonna be different.
Pam: It’s just hard to explain.
Dwight: Aw, Pam, you’re adorable [taps her nose]
Pam: Oh my goodness!
Pam: Come here.
Dwight: Oh, huggy hugs.
Jim: You don’t think you should sit in the back with Dwight?
Jim: Well, I think she has a kid.
Michael: Well, yeah she has one kid, no husband. She’s not gonna find one driving this thing around.
Dwight: Where are we going?
Jim: Come on, get inside.
Dwight: Where are we going?
Jim: We’re going to Chuck E. Cheese.
Michael: Chuck E. Cheese? Oh, God, I’m so sick of Chuck E. Cheese.
Jim: We’re going to the hospital, Michael.
Michael: I know, just sayin’.
Dwight: I found it under the seat.
Jim: Oh my God, Dwight, put that down.
Dwight: I’m thirsty.
Jim: Give the bottle to Michael [sprays Dwight]
Jim: Give the bottle to Michael!
Dwight: I’m thirsty!
Michael: Give it to me.
Michael: Dwight… [to Jim] You just keep your eyes on the road. [to Dwight] Give me the bottle or you’re fired.
Dwight: You can’t fire me, I don’t work in this van!
Michael: Give it to me Dwight.
Dwight: No. [takes a drink]
Michael: Give me the bottle!!
Jim: [to Michael] Will you stop?
Michael: Gimme the bottle, Dwight!
Jim: Michael stop.
Dwight: [drinks] Mmmmm…
Michael: Just give it!
Jim: Michael stop. [sprays Michael, then Dwight]
Michael: Stop, stop it! Stop spraying! [Dwight whines] Gimme the bottle!
Jim: Stop [sprays Michael]
Dwight: My eyes!
Michael: Stop spraying me! Gimme the bottle!
Dwight: My eyes!
Michael: [sigh] Something with a “K”.
Jim: It’s Kurt. Wow, I am so sad that I know that.
Michael: What do I write under “reason for visit”?
Jim: Concussion. [Michael scribbles something out] What did you write?
Michael: Nothing. I wrote “bringing someone to the hospital”.
Jim: So you thought they meant your reason for coming to the hospital.
Michael: No… you know what Jim, this isn’t about me anymore. I made a miraculous recovery, which is more than I can say for him. [Dwight falls towards Jim]
Jim: Come on Dwight. [sprays Dwight]
Dwight: Hi Michael!
Michael: Hi Dwight.
Michael: Doctor, what is more serious, a head injury or a foot injury?
Doctor: A head injury.
Michael: Well, you don’t have all the information. The foot as been fairly severely burned and healed quickly, very quickly, actually like suspiciously quickly.
Doctor: [to Dwight] So, I’m ordering a CAT scan.
Dwight: What is that?
Michael: Look since you have the machine up and running, can I just stick my foot, we take a look?
Doctor: Well, for a burn, you really just need to look at the outside of the foot.
Michael: Ok, what kinda machine is that?
Doctor: Does the skin look red and swollen?
Dwight: That’s what she said.
Michael: That’s my joke, damnit Dwight.
Michael: It’s ok, they’re with me.
Lab Tech: No metal of any kind.
Michael: Alright, well, I guess this is where we leave you off.
Dwight: I don’t want to do this.
Michael: Uh, well you should of thought of before you crashed your head on your way to pick me up. We’ll, see you when you get out.
Michael: Fine. Fine.
Jim: Dunder Mifflin, this is Jim.
Pam: Oh my God, what is going on, is Dwight ok?
Jim: Uh hmm, he should be fine, but, uh, they brought him in for a CAT scan.
Pam: I can’t believe he’s getting a CAT scan.
Jim: Michael went in there with him too. It’s pretty sweet.
Pam: Really? Michael went in with him?
Jim: Uh huh.
Jim: But they shouldn’t be much longer now, so we’ll be back soon.
Pam: Ok, that’s uh, good news [Pam sees Angela eavesdropping] Uh, yeah, no I’ll let you go.
Pam: Ok. Bye.
Oscar: What’s up, Pam?
Pam: I just wanted to let you that Dwight’s gonna be ok. The doctor said there’s a really simple treatment for a concussion, so he’ll probably even be back at work tomorrow.
Pam: I just, uh, thought you’d want to know that.
Michael: Uh, that’s what she said. See, haven’t lost my sense of humor. No, no need, it was a non-stick grill.
Michael: Right, I’m gonna spend the day in the hospital, bujehh. Bureaucracy and germs.
Jim: And doctors.
Michael: Yes, so, no thank you.
Dwight: Constructing a home-made cast? Genius. Filled with foresight. Like in the pioneer times, if you lost a leg, they would then use the bone of the leg for a cane. They wasted nothing.
Michael: Wow, I don’t want to hear… you talk. Pam, could I have a word with you in my office? [stumbling] Oh, oh, oh. Alright.
Michael: Yeah, I’ve been sayin that.
Toby: Yeah, and I, uh, I think that the very fact that we’re including it in our agenda frankly, is a big step forward.
Michael: Did you know I used to be in HR?
Toby: I’m sorry?
Michael: I used to be in HR. I was a Hell raiser.
Toby: Uh, ok.
Michael: Right? [laughs]
Toby: Uh, great. Why don’t we move on?
Michael: Alright. Movin’ on.
Toby: Great. Because you that I think the very fact that [Michael mutes the call]
Michael: Ry-an. You’re here. Whatcha got, whatcha got? Alright, Panic Room, Maverick, Nell, Sommersby, The Accused. Where’s Little Man Tate?
Ryan: They were out.
Michael: Oh come on.
Ryan: At three different places.
Michael: Oh man. It’s not a Jodie Foster afternoon without Little Man Tate, buddy.
Dwight: Into a machine?! Ok. Uh, that’s bad, will you stay with me?
Dwight: Ok, will you please call my cousin Mose?
Michael: No, I’m not calling your weirdo cousin. Twenty-seven years old, never left the beet farm.
Dwight: Oh God. Oh God.
Dwight: Oh God.
Michael: Ok, I’ll stand near you.
Dwight: Next to me?
Jim: I’m gonna pull the car around.
Michael: Shh shh shh shh.
Jim: Do you speak Spanish?
Michael: No. Do you?
Jim: No, I don’t.