Dr. Mastaan: How often do you wear your contacts?
Paul: About . . . 17 hours a day.
Dr. Mastaan: You should probably wear them less.
Paul: Nah. I'll be fine.
Dr. Mastaan: (rolls eyes) So what do you do for a living, Paul?
Paul: What does that have to do with my eyeballs?
Dr. Mastaan: I'm just making small talk.
Paul: Is "small talk" what's kept me in the waiting room for the last hour and a half?
Dr. Mastaan: Sigh. Okay, lean your head back. I'm going to put some drops in your eyes that will numb them.
Paul: Why? What the hell are you gonna do?
Dr. Mastaan: I'm going to test the pressure in your eyes with this instrument.
Paul: Is that a ballpoint pen? Get the fuck away from me.
Dr. Mastaan: You won't feel a thing. Just lean your head back and relax.
Paul: (Struggling) Your coat smells like mothballs and alcohol swabs.
Dr. Mastaan: There we go. Now keep your eyes open while I check the pressure.
Paul: Ow! Cut it out, assclown!
Dr. Mastaan: Come on, now. Be a big boy. Keep your eyes open. No blinking.
Paul: You're sticking a blunt object into my eye socket! That tends to cause blinking!
Dr. Mastaan: There, all done. Now I'm going to give you some other drops that will dilate your pupils, allowing me to see in the back of your eyes.
Paul: Ugh. What's this brown residue? Iodine? Is it iodine?!
Dr. Mastaan: It'll take about 15 minutes for your pupils to fully dilate. I'll return then.
Paul: You didn't answer my question!
Dr. Mastaan: I'll be back soon. Read a magazine if you like.
Paul: It's iodine, isn't it! You sick fuck!
Dr. Mastaan: (Leaves, closing door behind him)
Paul: (Picks up magazine) What the hell? My eyes are all blurry. I can't read this. That lying son of a bitch.
Paul: Got a call from an old friend, we used to be real close. Said he couldn't go on the American way, closed the shop, sold the house. Bought a ticket to the West Coast. Now he gives them a stand-up routine in L.A. I don't need you to worry for me cause I'm allllllright. I don't want you to tell me it's time to come hoooome. I don't care what you say anymore, this is myyyyy life. Go ahead with your own life, and leave me alone . . .
Dr. Mastaan: (enters the room) Hello again.
Paul: Peter Scolari!
Dr. Mastaan: No, Dr. Mastaan. Let me take a look at your eyes. Hmmm. Everything looks good. You have very nice eyes.
Paul: I'm not having sex with you. You're a man.
Dr. Mastaan: I was referring to your lack of cataracts.
Paul: Kinky. Look, some guys like folds of ham for breakfast, others like sticks of sausage. I'm a foldy ham kind of guy.
Dr. Mastaan: Make sure to pay your $25 co-pay at the front desk before you leave, and set another appointment.
Paul: I mean, I support your lifestyle as well as full marriage rights for you, but I just don't like wang.
Dr. Mastaan: Are you listening, Paul? I was saying I'd like to see you again in a year.
Paul: What'd I just tell you? It's not my thing. Find a bathhouse.
Dr. Mastaan: See you next year. (Leaves, closing door behind him)
Paul: Hello? Where'd you go? Can somebody tell me where my contact lenses are? Hello?
Paul: They will tell you you can't sleep alone in a strange place. Then they'll tell you you can't sleep with somebody else. But sooner or later you sleep in your own space, either way it's okay. You wake up with yourself. And Peter Scolari wakes up with Cathy Trien, who played Stacy in "Pootie Tang". (Pauses, looks around blindly) I need to find my contacts.
