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It's chaos, sure, but organized chaos.
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It's like a graceful ballet...
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or like that funeral we had for one of our dogs.
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First off, there's the chief.
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Get this, Papi... A woman is the chief!
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Looks like it's time to turn off the MRI machine.
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It smells like Thanksgiving in here... but bad.
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"You'd love the doctors here, Papi.
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They work hard."
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Time of death, 5:59.
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Time of dry humping in the supply closet, 6:01.
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Sorry. Was that your fist? What was that?