The Injury

Michael:It's just a burned foot

Pam:Michael, you sounded like you were dying!

Michael:I am dying. Of pain.

Michael:I burned my foot on my George Foreman grill.

Michael:But that's not even the worst part. I was sleeping when I burned it.

Michael:See, I like to sleep with the grill on my bed right next to me. That way, when I wake up, I can make a quick steak.

Michael:But the thing is, the grill is still hot when you're sleeping, so... you know, feet are close to the grill.

Michael:How exactly did the injury happen?

Michael:He describes the grill like it attacked him. Like, 'the grill came at me,' 'the grill was out to get me.' I'm like, dude, it's a grill. It doesn't have feelings. It doesn't have a vendetta against you.

Michael:I have a severe case of pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.

Michael:I have a girlfriend.

Michael:She goes to a different school.

Michael:Actually, she lives in Canada.

Michael:Okay, fine. I don't have a girlfriend.

Dwight:I'm coming, Michael!

Dwight:Watch out, I'm taking the corner at full speed!

Michael:Dwight, no—

Dwight:AHHHHH!

Dwight:I've crashed into the reception desk.

Casual observation about the aftermath

Michael:Don't freak out, treat him normally. Everything about his behavior screams 'pay attention to me.'

Pam:I'm going to sauté the chicken.

Michael:It's sear, Pam. You sear meat. Sauté is for vegetables.

Pam:Oh, I thought—

Michael:Yeah, well, you didn't. And that's okay. We all make mistakes.

Kevin:You know what they call Michael's foot? A foot note!

Kevin:Get it? Foot note? Because it's got a note on it?

Pam:I was doing my actual job.

Michael:No, you were being a friend. And I appreciate that more than any... any sales call or... or memo.

Michael:Pam, I need you to take this seriously. I have a very serious medical condition.

Pam:Okay, Michael, what is it?

Michael:I think I have... oh, I don't know... restless leg syndrome? Or maybe it's... swine flu?

Pam:Michael, you don't have swine flu.

Michael:You're not a doctor, Pam.

Pam:No, but I have common sense. Why don't you go sit down and I'll get you some juice and a nap?

Michael:I have a second-degree burn. Actually, it's a third-degree burn. No wait, it's a fourth-degree burn. I think I'm dying. I should go to the hospital. Actually, I'm fine. It's just a flesh wound.

Dwight:As Michael's assistant, it is my responsibility to ensure his well-being, his schedule, his dietary needs—

Dwight:I prepare his meals, I monitor his health, I even check on him during the night to make sure he's breathing properly and—

Dwight:Wait. Forget I said that last part.

Michael:I need you to cater my birthday lunch. I'm gluten-free, dairy-free, and I only eat yams on Tuesdays.

Dwight:Consider it done, sir. I've already secured a yam supplier and cross-referenced the lunar calendar to ensure maximum yam potency on Tuesdays.

Michael:Great. How much is this going to cost?

Dwight:The yams alone are running $300. There's been a shortage. I suspect sabotage.

Jim:I can help you download music. But fair warning, all the songs are in Russian.

Pam:What? Why would they be in Russian?

Jim:I'm just kidding. They're all in Portuguese.

Jim:Why did the Russian musician get cold? Because he left his strings out in the winter.

Pam:Wait, that doesn't make sense. Strings don't get cold. And how would that even... I'm so confused right now.

Jim:Goodbye, Pan!

Pam:Pan?

Michael:My feet are killing me. What should I do?

Pam:Have you tried soaking them in warm water?

Michael:No, but I'll try anything. What else?

Pam:You could use butter.

Michael:Butter? Like I Can't Believe It's Not Butter?

Pam:Sure, that works.

Dwight:These covers are totally indestructible.

Jim:Really?

Dwight:Yes. You could throw this thing off a building and it would be fine.

Jim:Okay.

Dwight:Watch this.

Jim:Whoa! It broke!

Dwight:That's... that's impossible.

Dwight:The product didn't break. I have absolute confidence in this product. In fact, I'm going to buy ten more units right now.

Jim:His bemused reaction to the friendship

Pam:Dwight and I are not friends.

Pam:We're not... Oh my God. We're friends.

Ryan:Did it hurt?

unknown recipient:Did what hurt?

Ryan:When you fell from heaven?

Michael:I can't feel my toes. I think I have nerve damage.

Dwight:You should see a doctor.

Michael:I can't drive with this foot. Can someone take me?

Jim:I'll take you.

Michael:Thank you. But I'm going to need you to... help me to the car. And maybe help me walk in. And possibly sit next to me in the waiting room.

Pam:Michael, Jim can just drop you off.

Michael:I know, but what if they call my name and I can't hear it? What if I fall in the bathroom? What if someone asks me to describe my symptoms and I black out?

Dwight:I'll go with you.

Michael:No, no, no. I need someone who's... sensitive. Someone who understands pain.

Ryan:I can't, I'm busy.

Michael:You're not busy. Okay, fine. Jim, Dwight, and Ryan—all three of you come with me. We'll make it a group thing. Like a field trip, but to the hospital, and I'm the patient.

Michael:I need help getting up.

Dwight:Okay, I'll help you.

Michael:Wait, did you just come from the bathroom?

Dwight:Yes.

Michael:Then no. Absolutely not.

Michael:Ryan, I need your help with something.

Ryan:What is it?

Michael:I need you to help me move this box.

Jim:Yeah, my grandpa died moving a box like that.

Michael:Really?

Jim:No, not really. But he did die.

Jim:That's a half-baked idea.

Michael:Does anybody here have a disability?

Phyllis:I do. I have a bad back.

Michael:Oh, that's not a real disability. A real disability is like, you know, something you're born with, like being a woman.

Creed:I have a condition where I can't feel pain in my right arm.

Michael:What condition is that?

Creed:I don't know. A doctor put a leeches on me, took some blood, and told me I had demons.

Michael:When was this?

Creed:I was in the woods. I don't remember.

Michael:You know, Stanley, I've been thinking about all the obstacles you must face.

Stanley:What obstacles?

Michael:Well, you know, being a large black man in America.

Stanley:Michael, I'm fine.

Michael:What does it look like?

Stanley:It looks like you need to see a doctor.

Michael:I'm not racist. I have a black friend. Oh wait, that's offensive now too?

Oscar:Yes.

Michael:My finger! My finger! MY FINGER!

Michael:I have a very good reason for each of these posters. This one here, a man grew overnight. That's a disability. This one, a little boy was born with gills. Gills, people. And this one, well, a woman woke up and she had a very large beak.

Michael:This is a very serious presentation about workplace disabilities and accommodations.

Stanley:*continues doing crossword puzzle*

Michael:So Billy, tell me about your condition. And please, take your time. I want to hear an inspirational story.

Billy:I'm blind.

Michael:Yes, and how did that make you feel?

Billy:Blind.

Michael:Why is this taking so long?

Billy:It normally takes me three hours.

Michael:Three hours? That's three times longer than it should take!

Jim:So Michael's been making my life miserable all day, right? And I'm sitting at my desk, completely fed up. Then I remember — the camera. The documentary crew has been filming everything. So I look directly at the camera with this look of pure exasperation and say, 'And that's the Dundie Award for Most Likely to Drive Someone Insane. And the Dundie goes to... Michael Scott.' Then I just turn back to my desk like nothing happened.

Jim:The best part? I know that footage is going straight into the documentary. Poetic justice. He started all this by being so desperate to be liked and filmed for the documentary, and now it's going to be his downfall. The very thing he wanted — being on camera — is exactly what's going to make him look bad.

Michael:I was expecting like, you know, someone really inspiring. Like a guy in a wheelchair who overcomes all odds and becomes a baseball player or something.

Michael:But Billy's just... Billy.

Michael:So, just to clarify, Dwight, you're the one with the problems, right?

Dwight:I don't have problems.

Michael:Yeah, you kind of do. You got hit by a car.

Ryan:I helped Michael with his problem. It's kind of like when my dog does something really stupid, and I have to explain to him why he can't do that. Except Michael's a grown man, so it's way more sad.

Michael:I'm feeling better already. I think the aspirin is working. My symptoms have been significantly ameliorated, and I'm experiencing a marked reduction in my discomfort. The analgesic properties of this medication are truly remarkable.

Jim:I know you're injured, but you can't sit in the Conference Room. That's for meetings.

Michael:So Meredith, your husband left you because of your drinking problem?

Meredith:Yeah.

Michael:That's rough. You know what you need? A good man. Someone who understands you. Someone who won't judge you for your flaws.

Meredith:Thanks, Michael.

Michael:I'm thinking... me.

Dwight:I need water. My head is pounding.

Jim:Dwight, don't drink that.

Dwight:It's just water.

Michael:That's been under the seat since 2003.

Dwight:Builds character.

Michael:You're fired!

Dwight:You can't fire me.

Michael:Why not?

Dwight:Because I don't work in an office. I work in a beet farm. Schrute Farms is in a separate jurisdiction.

Jim:What's your middle name?

Dwight:Danger.

Jim:No, it's not.

Dwight:It is.

Jim:It's Kurt.

Dwight:Well, I go by Danger now.

Michael:I'm fine, I don't need to go to the hospital.

Dwight:Michael, you have a concussion.

Michael:It's just a little bump. I've had worse. Remember when I sat on the George Foreman grill?

Dwight:That was your face. And you went to the hospital.

Michael:So the doctor says to me, 'You need to lose weight.' And I said, 'Doctor, I'm not overweight, I'm just undertall.'

Dwight:That's my joke.

Michael:No it's not.

Dwight:Yes it is. I told you that joke three weeks ago.

Michael:Well, I'm a better comedian than you, so now it's my joke.

Pam:I'm worried about Dwight.

Jim:Really? Why?

Pam:He hasn't said anything mean to me all day.

Jim:Oh my God.

Doctor:Okay, I need you to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth.

Michael:Like this?

Doctor:No, no, no. In through your nose, out through your mouth.

Michael:That's what I'm doing.

Doctor:You're breathing out through your nose.

Michael:That's not a nose, that's a mouth.