Carla: So anyways, we figured if I offered to do the nursing schedules, and these guys volunteered to do shifts at the clinic, Kelso might give you your job back.
Elliot: No, thanks.
Carla: Why?
[fantasy, one year later:]
Elliot: Carla, I can't do your paperwork, I am swamped.
Carla: I got you your job back.
[fantasy, two years alter:]
Elliot: Turk, I am not giving you my last Tater Tot!
Turk: I got you your job back.
[fantasy, two and a half years later:]
Elliot: J.D., I don't care if they're able to attach one person's limbs onto another's body, I am not giving you my hands!
J.D.: Job back!
[later, as J.D. and Elliot watch a movie, Elliot has stumps for hands and J.D. has two small hands poking out of his chest:]
J.D.: Just a beautiful film. Beautiful. Corn? Oh, let me help you. Let me I got you. Here you go. You're tickling your hands. Wait, stop! You're tickling your hands.
Elliot: Buttery.
J.D.: OK, keep going. I enjoy it, actually.
[reality:]
J.D.: Ah. Two and a half years away from chest hands.