“Okay, have a seat. What seems to be the problem? How can I help you today?”

The patient sank into the chair, his shoulders heavy with despair. “I can't take it anymore, Doc…”

“Say no more. We've got you covered.” The doctor’s voice was smooth, almost too calm for the anxious atmosphere.

“How would you like to handle this? We have injections,” he continued, leaning forward with a glint of intensity in his eyes. “One to stop your heart. One to cease blood flow. One to congeal your blood. Another to tighten your muscles until you can barely breathe. Or, if you're feeling adventurous, we have a toxin that’s painful but efficient.”

The doctor paused, surveying the patient’s pale face. “There’s also one to shut down brain activity, to kill all nerve endings, to stop your airflow. And if you want something really extreme, how about melting your insides?”

The room felt colder, the fluorescent lights buzzing like angry bees. The patient’s eyes widened as he began to tremble. 

“Unfortunately, that’s all for our injection collection,” the doctor continued, his tone shifting to a more clinical pitch. “But don’t worry! We have tablets, too—various toxins that could shut down your brain or, perhaps, make you feel as though your organs are sneezing out of your body. The choice is yours; I’m just here to ensure proper service.”

He leaned back, folding his arms with an unsettling sense of satisfaction. “If pills aren’t your thing, we could always get creative. I could cut you into little bits or big bits; I don’t mind. I just bought a new bone saw and have been itching to try it out.”

The patient’s breath quickened, his mind racing. “Wait, what?”

“Or, if you prefer, you could swallow a few metal bars and take a ride on the MRI scanner.” The doctor’s eyes sparkled with a morbid curiosity.

“Let’s not forget painkillers,” he added, his voice now laced with irony. “They’ll take you out with a smile.”

As silence filled the room, the doctor’s enthusiasm began to wane. He noticed the stark fear etched on the patient’s face. 

“The final option is electrocution,” he said flatly. “If none of this interests you, I’m sorry to say you’re in the wrong place. This is a hospital, not an execution chamber.”

The patient, now ghostly pale, stammered, “I… I just meant I can’t take this cold anymore!”

Realization dawned on the doctor, his façade cracking. “Ah, a cold. Just a cold.” He leaned back, his earlier bravado evaporating. “Why didn’t you say so? We can handle that easily.”

He reached for a prescription pad, the tension in the room dissipating like morning mist. “Let’s get you some relief, shall we?”