Clancy Gets An Anal Probe - 
by copygodd
Here at TVgasm's Rocky Mountain offices, it's been a while since we've called plagiarism on a network television show. (I call it all the time on basic cable offerings. Especially The Colbert Report.) But TiVo's summary for this week's episode of House rings too close to my own upbringing to be a mere coincidence: House denies his physical pain; a child comes to the hospital with rectal bleeding and proclamations of being tortured by aliens.
Okay, except for the whole bit about House denying his physical pain, that sounds exactly like my third grade year. And both of my ninth grade years. And my sophomore year at THE Ohio State University. But since I was in college, technically I was just experimenting with aliens that time. After all, how else would I know I wasn't attracted to aliens unless I let them probe my probe-hole?
Anyway, enough about my ass. The recap awaits after the jump...
This week's episode starts off with a distinctive X-Files vibe. And not the lame Doggett years either; I'm talking the golden years, before Scully and Mulder first made "the beast with two backs". A suburban mom tucks her little boy into bed, but he gets spooked when his bobbleheads start to bobble of their own accord. Personally, I'd be spooked that my mom was being played by Laura Palmer, but that's just me. He yells for mom, but dad comes to the door instead. Undeterred, Senior Pissypants asks his dad if he can turn on the TV. Daddy don't play that, though, and tells Junior that TV is a daytime toy. If he'd like a nighttime toy, the Ben-wa balls are on his dresser.
Clancy tells his dad he's worried that "they" might come to get him again. You can totally tell this is a nightly occurrence by the way dad taps his foot and blows his son off. (Not like that. This isn't Law & Order: SVU. Yet.) But you can also tell that as soon as daddykins shuts the door, bad things are gonna happen. Very bad things. Especially once Junior gets up and turns on the TV anyway.
Sure enough, the channels soon start to change on their own. Whenever this happens at my house (and it's more often than you'd think), it means either myself or one of the dogs has sat on the remote again. But here, it means the aliens are a-comin'. The TV shuts offs, the furniture starts to shake, and a bright light erupts from the boy's closet. Either it's a very fabulous episode of Queer Eye or Clancy's in deep doodoo. Or both.
The next morning, Clancy is nowhere to be found. Mom and Dad search all over the house for him, to no avail. Fortunately, the cameras reveal that Clancy is lying in the front yard, unconscious. Unfortunately, they also reveal that his ass is a bloody mess. Let's hope they find him before the neighbors do, or Mom and Dad can forget about that invitation to the next potluck.
Hey, House is getting ready to run again. Hooray ketamine! Wait, he's not going to make it. Instead, he comes back in and massages his leg. Boo Eurotrash miracle drugs! Even worse, he snarfs down a couple Vicodin. Which he only has because he forged Wilson's name on a prescription last week. Which he wouldn't have had to do had Wilson not gone all Yahweh and made Cuddy promise not to tell House that he was right about Crippy McSwimsalot's diagnosis after all. Thanks a lot, WILSON! (That pretty much sums up the "Previously On..." portion of the recap.)
House's crotch is insane!
At the hospital, House is walking with a noticeable limp. Wilson asks House whither his sweat and B.O.; evidently Wilson misses House's musk. Cuddy also notices that he's clean and early. House says if it's an intervention, they're too late, because he's not hooked on drugs anymore. He is, however, hooked on phonics. Dammit, I was going totally going to make that joke.
Cuddy says that House seems to be favoring his left side a little. "I was hanging down my right pant leg yesterday," House tells her. "Makes all the difference in the world." Yes it does. Are you with me, fellas? The good doctors Cuddy and Wilson also notice that House is taking the elevator today instead of the stairs. Cuddy warns House if he slacks on his rehab, his leg will weaken and hurt again. Not to mention the terrorists will win.
After House leaves, Wilson tells Cuddy he's worried the ketamine treatment might not stick. He should be worried that a sheet from his prescription pad is missing, but evs. Cuddy, meanwhile, is worried that House is depressed because they're lying to him. And whether the dress she's wearing makes her butt look big.
Cuddy tells Wilson if House gets depressed, he'll stop exercising. If he stops exercising, the muscle will atrophy. If the muscle atrophies, the pain will return. It's too bad the writers didn't write this in the form of a "The thigh bone's connected to the arm bone" sing-along. That would rule. Wilson counters, saying maybe he stopped exercising because the "giant hole in his leg" actually hurts. Substitute "heart" for "leg" and that totally explains why I don't exercise. Actually, if you substitute that entire sentence for "I'm a lazy fattyfat" you'd be a lot closer.
Cuddy says they have to tell House he was right about the chair-diver; Wilson says they can't tell him because House just made a lucky guess, based on no medical evidence at all. Wilson's worried that next time one of House's wild guesses might end up killing someone. He says they have a tiny window of time where House might be healthy enough to change. But based on House's limp, that window is closing fast.
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