A DOCTOR IS SAT AT HIS DESK WRITING NOTES. HE PRESSES THE BUTTON ON THE INTERCOM SITUATED ON HIS DESK.
DOCTOR: Can you send in the next patient please?
SILENCE
DOCTOR: Nurse?
SILENCE
DOCTOR: Pam? Are you there?
THE INTERCOM MAKES A CLICKING SOUND AND THE SOUND OF ZOMBIES CAN BE HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND.
NURSE: (O.O.V) Sorry Doctor. Had a bit of an emergency. Mr Jones was beating Mr Humphreys about the head with his own arm. All sorted now. I’ll send Mr Jones straight in. (TO SOMEONE ELSE) For the love of God will you take his head out of your mouth! You’re like a bunch of children.
INTERCOM CLICKS OFF. A MALE ZOMBIE WALKS IN THROUGH THE OFFICE DOOR. HE IS DRAGGING HIS ONE LEG BEHIND HIM AND MAKING GROWLING NOISES.
DOCTOR: Ah Mr Jones. Please take a seat.
ZOMBIE: Hello Doctor. RRRAAAARRRR. Sorry.
DOCTOR: Not at all. So you’re here for your KV antidote. Is that correct?
ZOMBIE: That’s right. I can’t wait. Being a zombie is doing my head in. RRRAAAARRRR. And all this roaring is playing havoc with my throat. I’ve gone through that many packets of Lockets I’m starting to thing I might as well have shares in the company.
DOCTOR: Quite. Zombie Tourettes is quite a disabling symptom. Is it affecting your life in other ways?
ZOMBIE: RRRAAAARRRR. Well I can’t get a job because of it. Nobody wants to employ someone who shuffles around all day screaming do they? Plus the potential for violence put people off. Prejudice that’s what it is.
DOCTOR: And how are you getting on with the light aversion?
ZOMBIE: Not good. I either only go out at night, but by then all the shops are shut, or I have to walk around like Michael Jackson with a blanket over my head. I can’t win. GGRRR.
DOCTOR: I see. And the uncontrollable rage?
ZOMBIE: I’ve bought myself a stress ball. Actually I’ve bought one hundred and fourteen of them. They don’t last long. Which pisses me off. GRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
DOCTOR: Hmmm. Let’s get started shall we? If you just hop up on to the bed for me and then roll your left sleeve up, that would be great.
THE ZOMBIE MAKES HIS WAY OVER TO THE BED, LIES DOWN AND ROLLS HIS SLEEVE UP.
ZOMBIE: Not very comfortable these beds are they? RRRRAAAAARRRR.
DOCTOR: Right. This will sting a bit, but there’s nothing to worry about.
THE DOCTOR LEANS FORWARD TO ADMINISTER THE INJECTION.
ZOMBIE: Ohhh. You smell quite nice Doctor. What is that? Blood?
DOCTOR: No. CK one.
ZOMBIE: Well whatever it is, it’s making me hungry.
THE DOCTOR STEPS BACK FROM THE BED AS THE ZOMBIE STARTS TO GET UP.
DOCTOR: Now, Mr Jones, control yourself.
THE DOCTOR MAKES HIS WAY AROUND TO HIS DESK.
ZOMBIE: Bet you’d taste just like chicken. I’ve had an Indian before but never a Doctor. (SINGS) I feel like chicken tonight. RRRAAARRR.
THE ZOMBIE RUNS TOWARDS THE DOCTOR ROARING. THE DOCTOR PULLS A GUN FROM OUT OF HIS DESK DRAW AND SHOOTS HIM.
DOCTOR: (MUTTERS) Bloody NHS patients. I knew I should have stayed with BUPA. (INTO INTERCOM) Nurse can you bring the mop and bucket please. Oh and some air freshener. It stinks in here.
THE INTERCOM CLICKS AND THE SOUND OF SCREAMING AND GUN SHOTS CAN BE HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND.
