“Well, Mr. Dalton, you may add nine staples to your dossier of 31 broken bones, two bullet wounds, nine puncture wounds, and four stainless steel screws. That’s an estimate, of course.”
Is it, Doc? Is it really? Because it sounds to me like you’re at first reading, then reciting from memory, actual statistics from the medical file that Dalton carries around with him. (“Saves time.”) Thirty-one broken bones, two bullet wounds, nine puncture wounds, and four stainless steel screws—that’s pretty specific. Not a lot of guesswork involved, I shouldn’t think. Unless you mean the nine staples you’re about to administer may wind up being ten staples, or eight stapes, and you can’t tell until you start. Or unless previous doctors whose notes are contained in that file threw up their hands and were like “I dunno man, this guy’s fucked up what can I say,” and that this is recorded in the file somewhere, perhaps in the place where it says what college he graduated from, which is admittedly a thing that it says and thus an indicator that this is a potentially very unorthodox medical file.
But if none of this applies, the smart money is on “the writers wanted Doc to say something that sounded smart, like ‘that’s an estimate of course.'” It isn’t smart at all of course. But I’ll say this for Kelly Lynch: She makes rattling off a bunch of specific injuries and then saying “just blue-skying it here” come across like you’re in the presence of a Dead Ringers–level eccentric medical genius. That would explain some of her wardrobe choices, and her taste in men. That’s an estimate of course.
Tags: dalton, dr. elizabeth clay, elizabeth clay, road house