J.D.: Anyway, know Mr. Marks? He said he doesn't have any family to be a kidney donor? But he's got a son. We gotta find this guy.
Dr. Cox: Look, Newbie, there are times a man wants to keep something to himself. Like, say, he's got a son. Or he's 29-years-old and keeps a journal with a unicorn drawn on the cover?
J.D.: Ah, that's a horse with a sword on his head, and he's there to guard my hopes and dreams.
Dr. Cox: Come on, if the guy didn't tell you about his son, I'm sure he had a pretty good reason. You know, you always do this you get too involved in your patients' lives. And just exactly how does that usually work out for ya?
[flashback to J.D. chained to a radiator:]
J.D.: Eventually someone's gonna miss me, Jerry! Oh, God, no.
[present:]
J.D.: He made me watch Everwood.

J.D.: [v.o.] After getting more involved, I found out Mr. Marks's son was an air-traffic controller at a small private airport.
[In the air control tower, Murray is a sitcom on a portable TV:]
Murray: I'll tell you something about Wings, they really got it right.

Carla: Elliot, don't listen to him, he doesn't know what he's talking about.
Elliot: Look, I will try anything. I just don't want to compromise who I am.
Jordan: Sweetie, you won't have to do that. Sure, if it's something really important, you might have to occasionally sleep with someone. That's how I hooked up with Perry. Needed a pen.

J.D.: Look, Murray, it doesn't matter that your father's handsome and charismatic and sings like a young Joan Baez. He's your flesh and blood, and you gotta step up.
Murray: Look, you obviously have some issues with your own father that you're projecting on to me. So why don't you go ahead and give him a jingle?
J.D.: He's dead.
Murray: Good stuff!
J.D.: No, I'm serious.
Murray: Classic!
J.D.: He had like a massive heart attack.
Murray: I'm sorry for your loss.

J.D.: Now, about the kidney.
Murray: I wish I could fly my plane right now. I always like to fly it when I have to make a big decision.
J.D.: [v.o.] Make the "flesh and blood" argument again but in a different way.
J.D.: Blood and flesh, Murray.

J.D.: [v.o.] I couldn't decide whether I should tell Murray his dad wasn't his dad. Luckily hospitals are full of supportive colleagues eager to help.
Dr. Kelso: Go tell that little bastard this second, before he coughs a kidney up to his fake father and sues this hospital. Write that down in your little unicorn book.
J.D.: Uh, actually, sir, it's a horse with a sword on his head.
[fantasy, J.D.'s diary starts talking to him:]
Unicorn: [J.D.'s voice but high-pitched] You know I'm a unicorn. Why can't you just say it?
[reality:]
Dr. Kelso: What are you going to do, son?
J.D.: [high-pitched voice] Well, Dr. Kels- [clears throat] Well, Dr. Kelso, I'm just gonna tell him.

J.D.: [on the phone] He says he clears his head by flying his plane. But I went to his airport? He doesn't have a plane there! What should I do?
Dr. Cox: Who gave you this number?
J.D.: Come on, I'm really asking for your help here.
Dr. Cox: Yeah, but, it's very important we focus on the whole "who gave you this number" issue.
J.D.: Fine. Maybe I got too involved like you said. But would it kill you for once to acknowledge that my heart is in the right place instead of spending all your time berating me?
Dr. Cox: You got the number from Jordan, didn't you? She hates me.
J.D.: You've been great as usual.

J.D.: Dammit, Murray. What corner of the sky are you and your plane hiding in!? There you are. Hi, buddy!
Murray: Hey!
[Murray starts to fly his model plane towards J.D., who runs away]
Murray: Oh, oh! I'm a doctor! I'm a doctor! Everything worked out for me!
[After J.D. jumps out of the way, Murray's model plane crashes behind a mound of dirt with a large explosion]
J.D.: What an odd sized explosion.

Carla: Elliot, your interviewer called. He's running late. Would you take Turk somewhere for me?
Elliot: Where?
Jordan: Oh, the, uh, Honey Festival.
Elliot: Oh, my God! Is that back in town?
Carla: Sure is! And Turk would love to go with you.
Elliot: You would?
Turk: Yes. I love large groups of white people eating pollen.
[later:]
Host: On behalf of the honey festival, I would like to thank our two volunteers: Our taster, Elliot, and of course, Christopher, the human honeycomb.
Turk: I thought you meant the cereal! Ow! Ow!

J.D.: Anyhoo, what do you think your dad is doing right now?
Murray: He's not my dad, he's my fake dad. Which means what my fake cousin Samantha and I almost did in the tenth grade would have been beautiful and right.
J.D.: Been there with my gram-gram.