“DOCTOR! DOCTOR! GIVE ME THE NEW…..”
“Charles I asked you to stop doing that last time,” Dr. Mags interrupted. “I’ve never met someone so insistent on making the receipt of their bad news enjoyable.”
“Yeah I hear you. I’m way too positive,” Charles exhaled, stretching his arms up and behind his head.
“You can be positive without…why am I arguing with you?” Dr. Mags laughed.
“Because, despite graduating suma cum laude from Johns Hopkins you’ve yet to successfully develop a strategy for interacting with your best and only friend. Did I nail it? I nailed it. Admit it, Eric.” Charles smirked.
Eric, staring at his chart and pretending to ignore his annoyingly insightful best friend continued on; “You’ve got…”
“A disease….and the only cure is MORE COWB” Charles chimed in.
“Jesus Christ, Charles. I’m trying to tell my best friend that he has cancer can you let me finish a sentence?!” Eric said in a tone that was all too familiar to Charles. Next would come the fake tears and closed fist to the mouth as he pretended to choke up.
“Huh. Seriously? Why would you want to tell your best friend that? What a bummer.” Charles sighed, lying back on the examine room table.
“No. Why do you never fall for that? As you know, we biopsied that ‘mole’ on your elbow.”
“Why did you say ‘mole’ and make the little air twosies?” Charles asked, staring at the ceiling.
“I used the QUOTATION MARKS because that mole was literally a piece of pepperoni that sat on your un-deodorized flesh for so long it grafted itself to your elbow. In other words, not a mole, you idiot.” Eric said, starting at Charles records, having a hard time believing it himself. How had his nurse not caught this? Or at least that was the thought he wished he was having, as he did the biopsy himself.
“Isn’t it against the hydrostatic oath or something to lie to your patients? You’re a terrible doctor,” said Charles.
“Hippocratic, and you’re still an idiot. Do you have any other toppings on your body you need me to check out while you’re in? Maybe I could take a ‘pizza’ your heart to run some tests on it?” Eric said, laughing gently to himself.
“Your jokes are almost as bad as your doctoring. Let’s grab some food,” Charles said, walking towards the door.
*a faint applause fills the room briefly*
“Okay! Okay! Great work sketch, Charles and Eric! You two are really getting good at this whole ‘improv’ thing! Next week we’re going to work on our standup routines so come prepared with some zingers!” the professor exclaimed to his students.
“I can’t believe we’re still taking this improv course, Charles. What an utter waste of time,” Eric said, disingenuously.
“They were a gift from Mystique, Eric. She really wants us to get along. Let’s just try it for a few more weeks and if we don’t like it we can go back to wasting our time and energy warring with one another. How does that sound?” asked Charles.
“Peace was never an option, Charles. Never…Until we came together to make these wonderful comedic sketches! Seriously what a great gift! I wish everyone would take a comedy or improv course, the world would be a much more peaceful place!”
And Charles Xavier and Eric Magnus Lehnsherr lived happily ever after…as best friends…not as a married couple.