Man: Here's your blood test, man.
Malcolm: Thanks. Here's my urine. Good luck on the drug test, but I really think you should get some help. I knew it! [Helmut grabs Malcolm's shoulder] Oh, good... Helmut. I've been looking all over for you. [Helmut picks up Malcolm] I have great news. You see, I just had another blood test, and it shows that I really don't need surgery, because... [time lapse] If the blood count goes down to normal, that means it isn't appendicitis. It was probably just a transient infection or maybe even a cold sore.
Helmut: Yes, little boy.
[cut to a drowsy Malcolm on the operating table:]
Malcolm: I need... to talk to Dr. Harrison.
Anesthesiologist: Count backwards from a hundred.
Dr. Harrison: Hi there, sport. We'll have that appendix out in no time.
[fade to black]
Dr. Harrison: Okay, scalpel. Huh? Hold on a second. [reads from Malcolm's abdomen] "Do not operate. 'H' and 'H': 16 and 47, platelets: 310..." These are blood test results. "White count: 8.4"? Is that right?
Anesthesiologist: "I will sue your ass for malpract..."
Dr. Harrison: Uh, maybe we should run another blood test.