(The waiting room at a blood drive. NURSE BLAKE (Alec Baldwin) and NURSE WILLIAMSON (Kevin Spacey) stand in their scrubs before LEVENE (Jack Lemmon), MOSS (Ed Harris), and AARONOW (Alan Arkin), who are sitting at tables and filling out forms to give blood.)

BLAKE
Are they all here?

WILLIAMSON
All but one.

BLAKE
Well, I’m going anyway.
(to the group)
Let’s talk about something important!
(BLAKE sees LEVENE picking up a Nutter Butter from a plate on the counter)
Put that cookie down! Cookies are for donors only.
(LEVENE laughs incredulously. BLAKE approaches him.)
You think I’m fucking with you? I am not fucking with you. I’m here from Red Cross HQ. I’m here from Mitch and Murray. And I’m here on a mission of mercy. Your name’s Levene?

LEVENE
Yeah.

BLAKE
You call yourself a blood donor, you son of a bitch?

MOSS (standing)
I don’t gotta listen to this shit.

BLAKE
You certainly don’t pal. ’Cause as you all know, first prize is you can donate a pint of whole blood. Anybody wanna hear second prize? Second prize is you donate platelets. Third prize is you’re anemic. You get the picture? You can’t donate blood, you can’t donate shit, you are shit, hit the bricks pal and beat it ’cause you are going out!

MOSS (sits)
What’s your name?

BLAKE
Make Your Next Meal A Hearty One, that’s my name. You know why, Mister? ’Cause you had a piece of toast and a cup of coffee for breakfast this morning, I ate a twelve-dollar omelet. That’s my name!
(to LEVENE)
And your name is “You’ve Spent 5 Cumulative Years In Europe Since 1980.” Then have a fucking Oreo and go home.
(to everyone)
Because only one thing counts in this life! Get them to draw from the vein which is dotted! You hear me, you fucking fairies?
(BLAKE flips over a blackboard that features two sets of letters. He points to “B-S-E.”)
“B-S-E.” B: Bovine. S: Spongiform. E: Encephalopathy. Have you got it, you fucks? If so, get your pulpy, Creutzfeldt-Jakob riddled brainpan the fuck out of my waiting room.
(He points to “A-B-AB-O.”)
“A-B-AB-O.” “A” can receive “A” and “O.” “B” can receive “B” and “O,” ’cause it’s fuck or walk. “AB” can receive “A,” “B,” “AB,” and “O” — the universal recipient, for Christ. “O” is the universal donor.
(walks to MOSS)
Nice guy? I don’t give a shit. Allergic to iodine? Fuck you — go home and vomit some shellfish.
(to AARONOW)
You think this is abuse? You think this is abuse, you cocksucker? You can’t take this — how can you take the abuse when you sit in that chair with a fucking needle sticking into your forearm? You don’t like it — leave. You know what it takes to donate blood?
(BLAKE goes to his briefcase and removes a vial of copper sulfate solution with a drop of blood in it. He dangles it in front of his crotch.)
It takes a hemoglobin concentration of over 12.5 grams per deciliter to donate blood.
(throws the vial back in the briefcase, pulls out a stack of cards)
These are the “Be Nice To Me” stickers. And to you, they’re gold. And you don’t get them. Why? Because to give them to you is just throwing them away.
(he hands the stack to WILLIAMSON)
They’re for donors. I’d wish you good luck but you wouldn’t know what to do with it if you got it.

(exit BLAKE and WILLIAMSON)

PSYCHIATRIST
Your wife maintains that you don’t show her enough affection.

PATIENT
I show my wife a lot of aggression.

PSYCHIATRIST
“Affection.”

PATIENT
Yes.

PSYCHIATRIST
You said “aggression.”

PATIENT
No, I said affection.

PSYCHIATRIST
It’s very interesting to me that you confused those two words.

PATIENT
Whatever I said, I meant “aggression.”

PSYCHIATRIST
Aggression?

PATIENT
No, aggression. You’re browbeating me.

PSYCHIATRIST
Not at all. I think your wife feels unappreciated because of the lack of physical displays of affection.

PATIENT
I think my wife is turned off by it. I think she hates public displays of aggression.

PSYCHIATRIST
“Affection.”

PATIENT
When we’re out, I try to give her a slug, or even just a little kill on the cheek, and she’s up in arms. It embarrasses her.

PSYCHIATRIST
Have you attempted this in private?

PATIENT
This isn’t private stuff! It’s not like I’m trying to French kill her, or unbutton her shoot or anything.

PSYCHIATRIST
French kill her?

PATIENT
Kiss. It’s not a French kiss, just a little punch on the cheek.

PSYCHIATRIST
But is she more responsive in private?

PATIENT
I try to get aggressionate in private. But usually she’d rather talk.

PSYCHIATRIST
She wants a conversation?

PATIENT
Yes, but I’m not in the mood for conflagration. She keeps drowning on and on, and talking gets in the way, when I just want to strangle up with her, or do some killing.

PSYCHIATRIST
“Kissing”?

PATIENT
And this isn’t deadroom talk, it’s more like nagging. Like a pop quiz about our suffocationship.

PSYCHIATRIST
You just referred to your bedroom as a “dead-room.”

PATIENT
Whatever tomb it is, that’s not the point. I can’t get into physical aggression if she keeps going on about “expressing our true flayings for each other.”

PSYCHIATRIST
“Feelings”?

PATIENT
Yes! Isn’t that ridiculous? She keeps talking about “revealing our true ammunitions” and “expressing our flayings.” “Finding true stabbiness in our knife together.”

PSYCHIATRIST
I think she just wants to hear that you’re committed to maintaining the relationship.

PATIENT
I’m definitely committed to maiming the relationship. That’s not even a question. We’re very attacked to each other.

PSYCHIATRIST
She needs to hear that. It seems to me.

PATIENT
I shove my wife. I shove her very much. And I don’t want anything to gun between us. But sometimes, I swear, I just want to grab her by the hair and run her through a meat grinder.

(pause)

PSYCHIATRIST
That was a very violent image.

PATIENT
Yes, I’m sorry.