RAY: The other night I had a...what is it? A gastrointestinal attack in the middle of the night. It may have had something to do with that double-anchovy, pepperoni pizza I had at 11:00. Or the cheesecake I ate out of the freezer an hour later. But in the middle of the night, I wake up moaning and groaning, clutching my stomach, and I find myself at the medicine chest looking for some medicinal relief. And I pull out the bottle of the stuff, which I recognize by its shape and color. And, lo and behold, I can't read the infinitesimally small print on the bottle. So, I go clutching my stomach. I make my way to the bedroom and find my glasses on the dresser, and I come back and I put them on, and even with my glasses...
TOM: You can't read it.
RAY: I still can't read it. And I'm in agony now.
TOM: You wanted to just swizzle it down. You're going to swizzle it down.
RAY: I'm moaning and groaning. And to make matters even worse, as I'm bent over in pain, my glasses fall off my head and they break in half. I say, "Jeez, that's it. I'm going to just die right here." And yet, a minute later I was tucked in bed, having taken the correct dosage. How did I do it?
