— Could you check my foot?

— Sure, what's up?

— I think I got a thorn stuck in it.

— Okay, let me see.

— Don't touch it. I'll show you where it is.

— I can't see anything. Did you step on something in the garden?

— Like what?

— Like a porcupine or a hedgehog.

— Are there any around here?

— Of course not. I was just pulling your leg.

— That's so like you. Could you just focus? It hurts.

— I'm sorry. I think I see it. Put your foot down. I'll need a knife.

— Wait, wait, wait. No knives. I'll deal with it myself.

— Come on, don't be chicken. It'll be fine.

— I said no.

— All right, but if you don't fix that soon...

— What?

— The thorn could get into your bloodstream.

— You’ve got to be kidding me...

— Not really. It could also be toxic.

— Wait, are you saying I'll need to go to the hospital?

— Maybe. But first, I'll have to cut off your toe.

— Okay, I've had enough. Give me my sock back.

— No! I need it to stop the bleeding!

— Alright, you asked for it, you psycho.

— No, no, no! Don't put your filthy foot on my face!