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Home: The Toast

dr oz
6:45 am: Choose to wake up. Most people let consciousness happen to them. This was why they so often developed diabetes and lymph resistance (also eating too much yeast). Dr. Oz chose to stop sleeping at the same time every morning, because it was time to save the world.
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7:15 am: Eat steel-cut oats until satisfactory bowel movement achieved.
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8:20 am: Commuters swarmed past him like a river splitting around a marooned log. “Escalators are killers,” he shouted hoarsely over the noise. “You’re riding a staircase straight to deep-vein thrombosis.”
No one was listening. Enough was enough. Time to bring down the machines. He hefted the mallet out of his messenger bag. “I’m helping you,” he yelled over their screams. “I’m helping you.”
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10:15 am: Hit the OR. “No scalpel today, Dr. Oz?” one of the nurses asked.
“You must be new,” he said, smiling at her. “Scalpels are a tool. But it’s a myth to think that I can’t be a surgeon without one.” She blushed. “Surgery is 99% about believing in yourself.”
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11:00 am: Sideburn maintenance and stethoscope placement.
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11:25-27 am: Two minutes of silent, uninterrupted eye contact with the First Lady (Skype). “You need to work on eye placement, Michelle,” he said.
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12:50 pm: Superfoods.
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2:15 pm: “Ouroboros?” he said patiently, putting his glass down and turning to his assistant.
“Yes?” she squeaked tentatively.
“Are these raspberry ketones?” he said, pointing at the distinctly not-red-tinted smoothie.
“Um.” She froze. He waited.
“I think they’re–I think they might just be regular ketones?”
Dr. Oz sighed. “You think, or you know?”
“I’m not sure. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Dr. Oz.”
He held up his hand. “Ouroboros, have mice fed very high doses of regular ketones, up to 20 g/kg, 2% of body weight or 4761 times greater than estimated human intake, experienced a statistically significant prevention of high-fat-diet-induced elevation in body weight in recent studies?”
She was crying now. “No.”
“No, they haven’t. Will this smoothie do my mice any good, if I feed it to my mice?”
“I don’t knoooow,” she wailed. 
“Find out for me, Ouroboros,” Dr. Oz said gently. “Take this smoothie to the Mice Room and find out.”
Ouroboros blanched. “The Mice Room?”
“That’s where the mice are, Ouroboros.”
“But nobody comes back from the Mice Room, sir.”
“Then this is your chance to set a precedent, isn’t it?”
“Sir–“
“Are you saying no to me, Ouroboros?”
“No, sir. No. God, no.”
“Saying no to me is the fourth leading cause of obesity and neck failure, Ouroboros.”
“I’ll go, sir. I’ll go now.”
He handed her the glass. “You’ll go now.”
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3:04 pm: Inspiration.
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3:45 pm: Voicemail again. Why did his calls never seem to go through? Oz left another message for Drs. Drew and Phil, reminding them to get their bimonthly colorectal cancer screening. “It’s never too soon until it’s too late, guys,” he said.
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4:30 pm: He circled the Kroger’s parking lot for seventeen minutes before he found the right one: auburn hair, parted in the middle; cornflower-blue housedress; round, resigned face. He ran up to her, placed his hands on her temples and said, “We are going to get through this together. We are going to get through this.”
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5:19 pm: Another bowel movement. Perfect every time.
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