Doctor, while you sit there, hopefully as uncomfortable as you possibly can be with your finger in my ass, I want you to listen to me. I want you to digest this because before I leave in 3 minutes with a sore anus, I have a lot of things I want to get off my chest.
I don’t hate you, Doc. I don’t even dislike you. I do like you. I like you a hell of a lot more than I like most people who finger my butt.
I hate this idea that you’re the best prostate examiner. Because you’re not. I’m the best. I’m the best in the world. There’s one thing you’re better at than I am and that’s fingering Dr McMahon’s ass.
You’re as good as fingering Dr McMahon’s ass as Dr Hogan was. I don’t know if you’re as good as Dr Dwayne though. He’s a pretty good ass fingerer. Always was and still is.
Whoops! I’m breaking the fourth anal cavatie!
Punk waves to the Nurse
I am the best ass fingerer in the world.
I’ve been the best since 2 minutes ago when I walked into this examination room. And I’ve been vilified and hated since that minute because Dr Heyman from fecal studies saw something in me that nobody else wanted to admit. That’s right, I’m a Dr Heyman guy. You know who else was a Dr Heyman guy? Poop Lesnar. And he sharted just like I’m sharting. But the biggest difference between me and Poop is I’m going to leave with the sorer anus.
I’ve grabbed so many of Dr Vincent K. McMahon’s imaginary brass butt plugs that it’s finally dawned on me that they're just that, they’re completely imaginary. The only thing that’s real is me and the fact that day in and day out, for almost six years, I have proved to everybody in the world that I am the best on this examination table, in that anal canal, even in urology! Nobody can touch me!
And yet no matter how many times I prove it, I’m not on your lovely little semen collector cups. I’m not on the cover of the hospital magazine. I’m barely promoted. I don't get to be a sperm donor. I’m certainly not on any crappy show on the hospital radio. I’m not on the poster of Breast Cancer Awareness. I’m not on the signature that’s at the bottom of this prescription. I’m not on Dr Phil. I’m not on Dr Dave. But the fact of the matter is, I should be.
This isn’t sour grapes. But the fact that you get to finger my ass and I don't makes me sick!
Oh hey, let me get something straight. Those of you who are cheering me from the waiting room, you are just as big a part of me leaving as anything else. Because you’re the ones who are sipping on those sperm cups right now. You’re the ones that buy those hospital magazines that my face isn’t on the cover of. And then at five in the morning outside the Urology Department, you try to shove it in my face and get an autograph and try to sell it on eBay because you’re too lazy to go get a real job.
I’m leaving with a sore ass in a few minutes. And hell, who knows, maybe I’ll go defend it in the Hospital down the street. Maybe…I’ll go back to fisting myself in the butt.
[Punk looks at the nurse and waves]
Hey, Butt Cabana, how you doing?
The reason I’m leaving is you Doc. Because after I’m gone, you’re still going to pour lube into people's asses. I’m just a spoke on the dildo. The dildo is going to keep pumping and I understand that. Dr McMahon is going to make prostates healthy despite himself. He’s a millionaire who should be a billionaire. You know why he’s not a billionaire? Because he surrounds himself with rubber-handed, KY Jelly using, douchebag (censored) butt men, like Dr Laurinaitis, who’s going to finger everything he wants to have fingered, and I’d like to think that maybe this hospital will better after Dr McMahon is dead. But the fact is, it’s going to be taken over by his anus fisting daughter and his butt obsessed son-in-law and the rest of his stupid family.
Let me tell you a personal story about Dr McMahon alright. We do this whole butt plug campaign...
[Microphone cuts off]