"What? No. No! I swear, I'm not being funny."

First of all? He has his Totally Serious face on, so, no, unless he had some leftovers from the bus stop diner stuck on his face, he was Not Being Funny. Secondly? He was better at being funny than that. Allegedly. There was a Laff Stop in Texas that might disagree, but, haters gonna hate.

"Call Doctor Del Moro. He knows me. Or Doctor Scott. Like, you know, Great Scott!" Okay, now he was being funny. As far as he knew, he, Del Moro and Scott were the only ones that knew that nickname.

Don't ask.

When fingers rattled over the keyboard, he craned his head to look around. Not far enough. An elbow hitched up on the counter and he half climbed across to see the screen. At this proximity, the sickly sweet scent of strawberries and vanilla was visceral. His lips were awfully shiny, too. Not his fault, yo. That's all on the Dollar Store that was selling Cake Lip Gloss that looked i-den-ti-cal to Chapstick. He wasn't going to throw it away. He was counting pennies on this trip. Besides, it sorta kinda worked.

"See!"

There he was, on the screen. His head cocked and his eyes popped with a look of disbelief at the registrar's look of skepticism.

"You're kidding, right? That's totally me. I mean, sure, my head isn't shaved anymore, but that's clearly me. Just, you know, picture that earring on me. What? I can't make some life choices?" Now his hand was in the game, pointing.

"Detached earlobes. That jawline? Those don't grow on trees. And like Bruce Campbell said? If Chins Could Kill..."

Seriously. Why the fuss?

"Florida School of Traditional Midwifery, Class of 2016. Clearly."

Transcript, yo.