- [Host] Tim's got a hankerin' for merengue.
Jill says it ain't merengue time 'til after dinner,
but as soon as she takes the kids to the doctor,
merengue o'clock, bitches.
And Tim had time to eat the whole merengue shebang,
because the docs did bonus blood work on Randy to determine
what makes him so darn cute,
and also why he's been tired lately.
Jill tells Randy to beat it, and with Randy upstairs
doing just that, Jill tells Tim the doctors felt something
in Randy's neck.
Then they sent him down the hall to another neck-toucher,
who detected a lump on his thyroid,
and it could be malignant.
Or it could be an easily treated hyperactive thyroid.
A pill a day keeps the reaper away.
Tim reacts to this grave news.
- (grunts) Boy...
so it's either a lump or
hypo-thigh master?
(audience laughs)
- With his most sensitive schtick.
Best case scenario, it's a goiter, and you know
it's a rough day when you're prayin' for a goiter.
Tim wonders why Jill didn't call him to the hospital
to mispronounce more life-threatening medical terms.
She didn't want to alert Randy to the possibility that
he might not make it to season six.
Jill loses it.
Her son could have cancer.
Her cutest son could have cancer.
Then again, it might be a goiter.
- And we want a goiter?
- Yes, we want a goiter.
- Nothin' like a good goiter goof to take
that cancer edge off.
The test results won't be in until tomorrow.
- Just hope those tests come out provin' that, um--
The laundry detergent does get our brights brighter
and our whites whiter.
(audience laughs)
- Brad leaves to write his acceptance speech
for the Bozo Haircut Hall of Fame.
Jill cooked Randy a huge breakfast so he'll have plenty
to work with when this news scares the shit out of him.
But when Brad walks in on the unusual a.m. feast
and his parents talking strange AGAIN,
he knows something's up.
- We usually get burnt toast and mushy bananas.
(audience laughs)
- It's our anniversary.
- Your anniversary was two months ago.
(audience laughs)
- This is the anniversary...
of the first time we had eggs.
- Brad buys it, because evidently,
his barber jammed these scissors into his brain
to finish the job of ruining his whole head area.
Jill realizes her biopsy Benedicts
and strawberry chemo cakes will trip Randy's
"uh the fuck is up?" alarm.
Into the trash they go.
Randy wants to know why she's junkin' all the yum yums.
Because Tim's taking Randy to breakfast, of course,
which makes no damn sense.
Then they're goin' to the arcade,
which makes even less sense.
- Well, I'll be late for history.
- Tim tells Randy to get in the car
before he becomes history.
No school, mortal combat,
best day ever.
- You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think I was dyin'.
(audience laughs)
That was a joke, guys.
(audience laughs)
- It was a joke.
I didn't get it at first, but I just got it.
I got it.
Tell your mom, make sure she got it.
(audience laughs)
- Ha ha ha, it's funny because he might actually
be dying of cancer.
Detective Genius Junior inquires if this has anything to do
with yesterday's parade of throat-squeezing doctors,
who silently took his blood for hours.
Jill explains it might be a goiter, a.k.a. nothing.
- Then why don't they call it nothing instead of a goiter?
- Well, they're not exactly the same thing.
I mean, you couldn't say,
Tigers eight, Yankees goiter.
(audience laughs)
- Maybe Tim shouldn't be a part
of these conversations, but if it's not a goiter,
it could be a hyperactive thyroid,
treated daily with a pill.
- A very small one.
- But there's a small chance--
- A very small chance.
- He might have a lump that needs removal.
- So I'd need an operation?
- A very small one.
(audience laughs)
- Would I have a scar?
- A very small one.
- But Tim's not done schticking it
to his maybe-dying son.
- Dr. Kaufman is going to call by 6:00 tonight.
- She's a very small doctor.
- If laughter's the best medicine,
this kid's a goner.
Randy heads to school with his parents having fully
avoided the C word,
comedy.
Jill is talking to free-range Wilson.
She remembers when baby Randy had colic.
It was the first time Tim met Wilson.
Come for the cancer,
stay for the Wilson origin story flashback.
Baby Randy is colic crying Tim's ear off.
Wilson, a man Tim has never encountered before,
offers a murky homemade remedy.
So Tim takes a Mason jar of mystery liquid
from a guy he's never met,
and could not identify in a police lineup later,
and rubs that crap on his infant son's stomach.
This might also be the origin story of Randy's illness.
Thanks for the midnight baby belly jam.
Peace.
Jill is hounding the doctor's office when
Brad comes home solo.
Randy was supposed to meet him after school,
but didn't show,
because he'd literally rather die
than be seen with Brad's noggin.
Jill sends Tim a son huntin'.
Tim finds Randy hiding in Terminator two.
He says Randy knows better than to keep secrets
from his parents.
Randy says, guess now we're even, dickless,
because they neglected to fill him in
on some rather crucial info nuggets.
- Like I might have cancer?
- He read about it on the computer at school.
- It said that sometimes these kinda lumps can be malignant.
- Super fun sentence
while you're getting quarters for skee ball.
Tim says they only lied to his face so he wouldn't spaz,
like he is currently spazzing.
Randy says that meant he had to read about it alone
in the library
on dial-up internet.
It took fuckin' forever to read about his cancer.
Tim agrees this is scary,
but it's still not as horrific as Brad's hair.
- I don't wanna die, Dad.
- Oh come on, man, you're not gonna die.
Even if you had cancer, which you don't,
you do not have that,
it's a treatable kind, okay?
- Wait, how can you definitely not have something,
but if you do have it, it's treatable?
Tim's either lying to his son, or stupid, or both.
It's both.
The fam's forcing Randy to play Scrabble while they wait.
So if cancer doesn't kill him, boredom will.
Ring ring.
J T T is cancer free.
Randy does have a hyperactive thyroid,
which means a pill every day, but that's easy to swallow
compared to his dad's material.
Tim does some staircase goiter schtick for the road.
- My young son, the goiter.
And then I can buy you a goiter belt.
- And Jill has another flashback, extra fuzzy,
that turns into a highlight reel
of J T T's many forgettable performances.
So what did we learn today?
If your son might be dying of cancer,
don't let him figure it out alone in a library
on dial-up internet, you monsters.
And everyone winds up sick with something in this life.
If you only have to take a daily pill, that's a win.
And if you really love your family,
you don't hide medical secrets from them,
or eat an entire merengue to yourself.
Hard to say which is more shameful.
And comedy is a powerful tool to cope
with life's most difficult moments.
But if your shit's weak...
maybe shut the fuck up, Tim.
See ya next time on A Very Special Episode.
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