YOU:
So, uh...do you want me to, er....injure you?

DEPRESSED SPLEEN:
Oh, you can run me through a shredder if it would amuse you enough, sure, but while many here would find such an experience fairly entertaining, I'm afraid I'd personally feel no better or worse in any number of pieces. I'm an adult, after all. I'm sure you outgrew the plebeian thrills of dismemberment by the time you finished your pupation, or whatever it is you multi-parters do.

YOU:
The nose had gas pills, would that, er, help?

DEPRESSED SPLEEN:
That wouldn't do a thing for me. All I can really hope for around here is a good solid blood disease, not that there's any even unique to a spleen. Oh no, you get a blood disease, the whole system starts to shut down, doesn't it? The last thing anybody talks about is what happens to your spleen. Even if you need a splenectomy, they don't even bother giving you a new one. They don't have to. Waste of money. You can't even really die just from a lack of spleen. Even the appendix got a better deal; at least that can explode.

YOU:
What if you had some of the clow- the...things...I saw - on those eyeballs in the other room?

DEPRESSED SPLEEN:
That's not even what they're here for. That's just another of their insufferable little gripes; a mundane infestation like that is hardly worth a nurse's time, though it would be almost as tedious as answering your banal inquiries, if it would please you to make yourself an even bigger source of irritation than you've already been. Please, go for the record, I haven't nearly enough things to bore me right now.

YOU:
Change of subject...just who exactly IS Dr. Phage?

DEPRESSED SPLEEN:
Ugh.

YOU:
...Is that it?

DEPRESSED SPLEEN:
No, that was me realizing that you were still talking. To actually answer your question: ugh.

YOU:
....Do you need a hug.

DEPRESSED SPLEEN:
Yes, please, crush me to your greasy fat-sacs in the suffocating embrace of your fuzzy meat-branches. Clearly, the one thing I was missing all this time was a sticky layer of congealed sweat. What a thoughtful offer.

YOU:
Kay, thanks for just being an asshole instead of trying to kill me I guess.