Maybe Walt’s addicted to the pot and he owes his drug dealer a lot of money. These shoes make me look like I should be changing bedpans, like I should be squeaking around bringing soup to some disgusting old person — then take the bus home to my 16 cats. Let me get this straight. You call in sick the day after receiving a long awaited, career boosting promotion so you can play Oktoberfest in your man cave? Please don’t tell me to relax. You know I hate that. Dave said I should express that.
The people who get paid to do this do a lousy job. So I guess this is what you want huh? Just lying in a hospital bed, getting sponge baths from nurses. It’s time to go home, Hank. I’m just seeing. Seeing what I see. We’ll see. I say it will. I dunno, I don’t care if someone walks in. I tell you what, if I can get the groundhog to see his shadow… I’m betting it will… and if he does, you check out of here. You afraid you’ll lose? The point is, you’re not completely hopeless. We have a bet? One minute? Alright, that’s a cake walk!
Nice, thank you. Stay classy. Well, I’ll tell you one thing. Your Hardy Boys routine is over. No more asking him to drive you on stakeouts. It’s too dangerous, you hear me?
Chemotherapy and marijuana go together like apple pie and Chevrolet. Facing death changes a person, it has to, don’t you think? You can do this, Hank. Come on. It’s supposed to hurt. Pain is weakness leaving your body. Hey, if you could get your leg up that high, I say go for it.