In Drama class, we were assigned to read "The Physician In Spite of Himself" by Moliere and parody it in some way. I chose to turn it into an 80s-style soap opera. This is what my crazy mind came up with.

Scene IV. Lucinde, Geronte, Sganarelle, Valere, Lucas, Jacquelin

Sganarelle: Is this the [poses] patient?
Geronte: Yes, I have but one daughter; my dancing heart would go to waste if she were to die.
Sganarelle: Die? No! She’ll be stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive! She must not die without a prescription!
Geronte: Please, sit your bad self down.
Sganarelle: [seated between Geronte and Lucinde] For a sick girl she’s pretty hot. I’m quite certain that if she’d be good for man if in good health.
Geronte: You have made her laugh, Sir.
Sganarelle: So much the better! A physician making a patient laugh is better than Iran releasing hostages. [To Lucinde] Well, what is the matter? What ails you? What do you feel in your bad self?
Lucinde: [Replies by motions, but putting her hand to her mouth, her head, and under her chin] Be bob boop beep!
Sganarelle: What do you say?
Lucinde: [Continues the same motions] Be bob boop beep beep boop bob!
Sganarelle: What is that?
Lucinde: Be bob boop!
Sganarelle: [Imitating her] Bob be boop beep beep! I do not understand you. What sort of beat do you call that?
Geronte: That’s the problem, Sir. She has become dumb, even worse than Madonna’s last album. We have not been able until now to discover the cause. Her inability to correctly beat has obliged us to postpone her marriage.
Sganarelle: And why so?
Geronte: He whom she is going to marry wishes to have a wife who has at least some music sense.
Sganarelle: What? I pity the fool that does not want his wife to be dumb! Would to Mr. T that mine had that complaint! I should take particular cared to keep her beat-less.
Geronte: To the point, Sir. We request that you use all of your skill to cure her of this affliction.
Sganarelle: Don’t have a cow, man. But tell me, does this pain oppress her much?
Geronte: Yes, Sir.
Sganarelle: So much the better. Is the suffering… bad?
Geronte: Bad.
Sganarelle: [Turning to the patient] Give me your hand. [To Geronte] The pulse tells me that your daughter is dumb.
Geronte: Sir, that’s exactly it; ah! Yes, you have found it out at the first touch.
Sganarelle: Of course!
Jacqueline: See how sexy his mind works.
Sganarelle: We great physicians, we know matters at once. Michael Jackson would have been dumbfounded, and would have told you: she’s gotta beat it; but I hit the nail on the head from the very first, and I tell you that your daughter is dumb.
Geronte: Yes; but I should like you to tell me why.
Sganarelle: Nothing is easier; it arises from loss of sense of good music.
Geronte: Very good. But the reason of her having lost her speech, pray?
Sganarelle: Our best authorities will tell you that it is because she listened to too much Led Zepplin.
Geronte: But, once more, your opinion on this impediment is Led Zepplin?
Sganarelle: Mr. T on this subject says… a great many things.
Geronte: I dare say.
Sganarelle: Ah! He was a great man!
Geronte: No doubt.
Sganarelle: Yes, a very great man. [Holding out his arm, and by putting a finger of the other in the bend] A man who was, by this much, greater than I. But back to the dance floor for a second: I hold that her poor taste in music is caused by certain humors, which among us learned men, we call peccant humors; peccant – that is to say – peccant humors; inasmuch as the conditions formed by watching too much bad stand-up. Do you understand Latin?
Geronte: Not in the least.
Sganarelle: [Suddenly rising] You do not understand Latin?
Geronte: No.
Sganarelle: [Assuming various comic attitudes] Cabricias, arci thuram, catalamus, singulariter, nominative, haec musa, the rocker, bonus, bona, . Dues sanctus, estne oratio Latinas? Etiam, foh shizzle. Quare? Foh rizzle. Quia substantive et adjectivum, concordat in generi, numerum, et casus.
Geronte: Ah! Why did I not dance?
Jacqueline: What a clever man!
Lucas: Yes, it is so beautiful that I do not understand a word of it.
Sganarelle: Thus these vapors which I speak of, passing from the left side, where the spleen is, to the right side, where we find the pelvis, it so happens that the lungs, which in Latin we call Jeff Spicoli, having communication with the brain, which in Greek we style DeLorean, by the means of the beat box, which in Hebrew, is termed Moses, meet in their course the said vapors… now pull up a chair and open the pizza box, pray… and because these said vapors are endowed with poor taste in music… listen well to this, I beseech you.
Geronte: Yes.
Sganarelle: Are endowed with a certain malignity which is caused… pay attention here, if you please.
Geronte: I do.
Sganarelle: Which is caused by the acridity of these humors engendered in the concavity of the dancing fool space, it happens that these vapors… Ossabandus, nequeis, nequer, potarinum, Michael J. Fox, Betelgeuse. That is exactly the reason that your daughter is dumb.
Jacqueline: Ah! How well this gentleman explains all this.
Lucas: Why does not my soul party as well as his?
Geronte: It is undoubtedly impossible to be any sexier. There is but one thing that I cannot exactly make out: why did NBC cancel the A-Team? And why did you switch around the pelvis and the spleen? It seems to me that you place them differently from where they are; that the spleen is on the left side and the pelvis on the right.
Sganarelle: Yes; this was so formerly; but we have changed all that. The human body has evolved greatly in the past twenty years.
Geronte: I did not know that, and I ask you to pardon my ignorance.
Sganarelle: There is no harm done, just never go into the medical field.
Geronte: Certainly not. What should be done about my daughter?
Sganarelle: What do I think ought to be done?
Geronte: Yes.
Sganarelle: My advice is to put her to bed again and cure her with bread soaked in Bud Light.
Geronte: Why so, Sir?
Sganarelle: Because there is in bread and Bud Light mixed together a sympathetic virtue which produces musical sense. Do you not see that they give nothing else to every famous grunge rock artists, and that, by eating it, they become big?
Geronte: That is true. Oh, the great man! Quick, plenty of bread and booze.
Sganarelle: I shall come back tonight to see how the patient is getting on. But until then, she is STAYIN’ ALIVE! STAYIN’ ALIVE! OH-OH-OH-OH! STAYIN’ ALIIIII-IIIIIIVE! STAYIN’ ALIVE!

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Bullwinkle: Hey Rocky, watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat.
Rocky: But that trick never works!