I'm super, thanks for asking! House/Wilson
Five Conversations That Never Happened
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“I want to go to the moon.”
“Great, and I want to not have this conversation. Looks like neither of us are getting their wishes.”
“I’m serious.”
“Sure, because every man and his dog are going to the moon these days.”
“Especially dog.”
“What?”
“Remember Laika?”
“House, she didn’t go the moon. She orbited the earth. And she died.”
“…”
“House?”
“I still want to go to the moon.”
“Are you high?”
“No. I want to go to the moon.”
“House, this is childish. You don’t want to go to the moon. You’re just… being you.”
“Gee, what a great psychoanalysis. Now, just if I wasn’t clear before, I want to go to the moon.”
“Oh, the moon! My bad, I thought you meant something impossible. Let me check, the five o’clock shuttle is gone, will the nine o’clock be okay for you?”
“…”
“House?”
“Moon.”
“Look, will you stop yappering if I make you macadamia nut pancakes and promise an extra layer of syrup?”
“And honey.”
“Of course.”
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“I think we should get a pet.”
“You already have a pet.”
“I meant another pet. Steve is feeling lonely these days.”
“Steve is sick and half dead.”
“So he can’t feel lonely?”
“Never mind. Why do you want to get a pet?”
“Well, it would be cool. We could do one of those family bonding things.”
“So you’re going to bond with a pet?”
“If you know what I mean.”
“…”
“Wilson?”
“I’m not here. Excuse me while I go and scratch my ears out.”
“Why, Dr. Wilson, I thought you were an open-minded person.”
“I am. I’m open to gay marriages and abortion and circumcision and the war in Iraq and even necrophilia.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I’m not going to sit here and watch my boyfriend fuck a chicken.”
“…”
“House?”
“You called me your boyfriend.”
“Sorry. I meant the limping jackass whom I somehow fell in love with.”
“No. I mean, I liked it.”
“You want me to call you my boyfriend?”
“…”
“House, that is so sweet.”
“Shut up.”
“I love you, Gweggy.”
“I said, let it go.”
“As you say, Gweggy poo.”
“Seriously, cut it out.”
“So what kind of pet do you want?”
“Don’t know. Can’t decide between a cow and a pig.”
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“Wilson, what is this?”
“Where did you find this?”
“Never mind that. Mind explaining to me what this is?”
“House, where the hell did you find it?
“Sure, try to avoid the subject. What the hell is this?”
“House, you know what this is.”
“Indeed. What I don’t is why you have one of these things.”
“It’s… a long story. Something about a dare. I can’t really remember.”
“Okay, let me rephrase the question. Why do you have this, honestly?”
“I…”
“What? I don’t think I heard you.”
“I liked it, alright?”
“…”
“House?”
“Do you wear it?”
“It’s a little tight for me now.”
“So you do wear it.”
“What’s wrong with wearing it?”
“Wilson.”
“What? What’s wrong? It’s smooth and comfortable and it helps me relax.”
“It’s a banana hammock.”
“So? It’s not like I wear it in front of you!”
“Why not?”
“Wait, you want me to wear it in front of you?”
“Well, it might look good on you. You do have a firm ass--”
“House!”
“Fine. But tonight you’re wearing it for me.”
“Great, can you go now?”
“Excellent. Oh, and Wilson?”
“What now?”
“Next time, try not to buy the pink one, alright?”
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“House, are you in there…Dear God!”
“…”
“House, what the hell did you do?”
“I… don’t know. Is it that bad?”
“House! How on earth did you manage to do this?”
“I don’t know, it just happened. Does it look terrible?”
“I’m not going to lie to you, House. You look horrifying.”
“Yeah, but isn’t it cool?”
“Is what cool?”
“The style.”
“House, there is no style.”
“Of course there is. All the cool kids are doing this nowadays.”
“House. I haven’t seen any sane person do this.”
“So you don’t like the style?”
“Okay, obviously I’m missing something here. What is the style in shaving your head?”
“…”
“House?”
“Did you just say ‘shaving your head’? ‘Cause it sounded a lot like you just said ‘shaving your head’. I’m sure you meant ‘waving your bread’, right?”
“No, House. I meant shaving your head.”
“Wilson. Obviously you need new glasses. I did not shave my head.”
“Yes, you did. You have no hair on your head. It’s so smooth that I can see my reflection on it.”
“But the style magazine said--”
“You were using a style magazine? Why?”
“I… wanted to look nice. Everyone you’ve been with looks nice, so I thought--”
“You wanted to look nice for me?”
“…”
“I think you look nice bald, House. It’s… exotic.”
“Gee, thanks, Wilson. What a nice compliment!”
“House?”
“What?”
“Did you know your head was oval?”
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“House!”
“…”
“House!”
“Wilson, go to sleep.”
“HOUSE!”
“Oh, for God’s sake, what?”
“Look at that!”
“Look at what?”
“House! See, its right there, just above your shoulder.”
“Wilson, there’s nothing there.”
“No, look carefully. Its-its huge!”
“Wilson, are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”
“House! Will you stop bantering and tell it to go away?”
“Wilson, it’s a butterfly. It’s not going to hurt you, it’s probably more scared of you than you are of it.”
“House, can you tell it to go away?”
“Wilson… are you scared of butterflies?”
“I-well-it’s just so big!”
“Relax. I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“Hmm… why do I not believe you?”
“Fine, I won’t tell everyone. Can I go back to sleep now?”
“First tell that thing to go away.”
“Wilson, I can speak many languages, I know. But butterfly-language isn’t one of my specialties. And it won’t hurt you. Just as soon as you turn off the light, it will go away.”
“Promise?”
“Fine, big baby. Promise.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“Look, we’ll make a deal. Turn off the lights and if you still feel scared, you can cuddle me, alright? Now can I go back to sleep?”
“Fine. Thanks, House.”
“…”
“House?”
“What is it now?”
“You’re not a teddy bear.”
“Oh, for the love of God.”
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