A/N: This story comes from an idea that was inspired while in the shower. I give a bit of credit for the idea to the show Scrubs, because the concept of the issue this patient is having reminds me of a brief conversation between Turk and a patient in one episode.

My apologies for any grammatical errors – it's late, I'm tired and shall do a better read over tomorrow.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Stupidity is Bliss:

"Hello unfortunate anonymous sick person of the day. My name is Doctor Gregory House and you are clearly incompetent."

House limps into the examination room, a case file in his hands and declaring his entrance loudly with these blaring cheerful words. He shuts the door behind him, his eyes grazing across the pristine white tiled floor until he moves and situates himself against the counter on which he slaps the file down. He then chooses to look up and disguises his cringe as scrutiny.

Sitting on the paper covered exam table is a man in about his mid forties whose body chooses to grow horizontally rather then vertically, at least since he has turned thirty. His large round face is sleek with a fine sheen of perspiration and by the red rash that is rearing its ugly head viciously about his bald scalp, House can immediately deduce that the man is trying some bogus hair growth product. Most likely in a failed attempt to prove to humanity that he's not all that bad looking.

Keeping up his jovial demeanor, House breaks the silence by continuing to ask, "What seems to be the problem?"

"It's Jim."

House blinks at the man. "Actually, we're in a hospital, but by the gallons of sweat that seem to be exuding from every pore on your body and that record-breaking muffin top hanging over your waistline, one may think you have had the decency to pay the treadmills a visit."

House's patient appears unfazed by the verbal beating he has just taken and pulls out a tissue to dab at his forehead. "I mean my name is Jim," huffs the man, "And it's the pills the last doctor prescribed me – they ain't working."

"You were prescribed…" The cynical doctor flips open Jim's folder and gives it a quick glance. "A hydrocortisone rectal suppository for a hemorrhoid problem." House's head snaps back up to his patient. "How long have you been taking them?"

"About… two weeks," Jim recalls. "I've been taking it every morning before work, but nothins' happened."

House's cool glacier irises assess Jim, calculating his intelligence based on observable facts; it does not add up to much.

Taking a few steps from the counter House pulls out a familiar opaque orange bottle and pulls top off. He withdraws a white pill and holds it between his pointer and thumb, then thrusts it out towards his patient.

"I want you to take this and show me with it how you take your pills," House informs the man, who eyes the Vicodin nervously.

"What is that? Is it gonna do something bad to me?"

The impatient doctor rolls his eyes, uttering, "Did I mention you're incompetent?" and then downs the pill himself, closing his eyes as though enjoying the flavor of some exotic food.

He sighs with contentment. "They're happy pills. They're what keep me so cheery. Here, try one."

Still, Jim does not take the vicodin when House offers it to him.

"I ain't takin' no pills that will mess with my body," Jim states firmly and he crosses his arms to prove his point.

Humans always do seem to be blessed with surplus quantities of stupidity.

"Yes, because taking an unknown pill is really going to mess up your image." House throws his head back and downs the denied pill without any sort of liquid to ease it down his throat.

Jim looks down at the bottle and his brow creases. "Those for your leg?"

"Didn't you just hear me five seconds ago? They're happy pills." House turns and limps away from the patient while declaring, "If your going to intent on being an idiot, then I want you to tell me exactly how you've been taking your medication."

Jim's beady eyes search the floor for a moment. "With a cup of water," he answers simply.

Slowly, House reiterates, "A cup of water."

"Yeah."

Silence.

"I can only assume you mean that you drink a cup of water while inserting the drug into your anus?" House inquires hopefully, his face wrinkling in doubt as the patient's contorts in disgust. "Otherwise, I'm pretty much required to live by Charles Darwin's theory of natural selection and… well, you know."

"What are you-."

It is at that moment that the door is thrown open, revealing a very flustered and irate looking Cuddy. She gives Jim a brief apologetic look and then her gaze snaps to House.

"I need you in my office, now," she says.

Doing only what he does best, House feigns the look of an insolent child and replies, "But I'm not done playing with the other kids."

"Too bad." Cuddy pauses, seeing that House has made no move to leave and adds with growing annoyance, "Now."

Making a pantomime of heaving a large sigh, House turns to his patient and orders, "You're going to want to go home and start shoving these up your ass. God, am I happy not to be you."

Once Cuddy and House are out of the patient room and walking through the hectic whirl of motion that is the clinic building, Cuddy asks, "Do you make derogatory terms to each patient when your done with them, or is that just some new way of saying goodbye?"

Limping after her, House says defensively, "The guy was a moron. He was swallowing rectal pills. What was I supposed to say to him?"

"You're a doctor. You're supposed to act professional, no matter what the case is."

Cuddy throws open the door to her office and marches over to her desk where she begins to shuffle through a stack of papers while House lingers near the doorway.

"I have to be at a board meeting in fifteen minutes. And I also have a case for you to work on. No complaining, no whining, and no ruining my new office in a fit of child-like stubbornness. You're doing this." Cuddy grabs a file and hands it to House as she breezes past to grab her jacket off a hook.

House flips the file open and scans it. "Cool," he says simply and turns to leave.

Cuddy freezes and turns her head to him slowly. "Wait… that's it?"

"Yup." And with that House exits her office, feeling her perplexed eyes on his back as he goes.

He makes his way towards the clinic doors, but just before he leaves, he ambles over to a nurse at the main desk and puts the file on the counter there.

"Page doctor Foreteen – sorry, I meant Foreman, and have him come down and get this," he tells the nurse. He doesn't give her a moment to reply. Instead, he shuffles out of the clinic and makes his way to the elevators.

Three o'clock; time to visit the coma patient and his lovely all cable TV.