Janitor: I convinced everybody in this hospital that's afraid of me to go outside and spell out the score of the game.
Dr. Cox: Really?
Janitor: No, you idiot. I'm just gonna tell you the score of the game. Maybe knock your head against the glass.
Dr. Cox: Look, I was way out of line telling you how that movie ended, but, God save me, watching sports is one of the last pure pleasures I have left in my life, so you tell me what's it gonna take for you to let me go home, sit in my massage chair, and enjoy the game?
Janitor: I would like to perform open heart surgery.
Dr. Cox: No.
Janitor: How about you perform surgery on me so that I can breathe underwater?
Dr. Cox: No.
Janitor: I would like a shark that read minds.
Dr. Cox: No.
Janitor: You and I trade lives for a year.
Dr. Cox: No.
Janitor: How about a home-cooked meal and an hour in your massage chair?
Dr. Cox: Done.
Janitor: Done.
[The Janitor walks over to the window and looks outside, where a large group of hospital staff have arranged themselves to spell out "98-97"]
Janitor: Hey, guys, it's off.
[He looks again and they have rearranged themselves to read "Why"]
Janitor: Wow! You guys are organised.