Lorelai: I think I have gangrene.
Rory: You do not.
Lorelai: And vertigo.
Rory: Oh, boy.
Lorelai: One leg feels shorter than the other.
Rory: This is gonna be the Vanity Fair paper-cut incident all over again, isn't it? Leave your bandage alone.
Lorelai: Look, it's turning purple, but a really glowy purple! Look!
Rory: No, thanks.
Lorelai: Maybe our rain gutters are radioactive or made out of some kind of alien metal so when I cut my hand, I got infected with an extraterrestrial substance which is altering my internal makeup. Oh, maybe I'll turn into a superhero!
Rory: Maybe.
Lorelai: Like, maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and suddenly be able to shower really fast.
Rory: We'll go pick out your cape after breakfast.