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Therapist: Tell me about these size pills you're giving Mac.
Dennis: Well, now that's more like it. So, they're Mexican ephedra. Calling them 'size pills' was an elegant solution. The guy was gross, it was disgusting. He was fat as shit, he smelled like shit, he sounded like shit, his groans, his snores, his sleep apnea, it was gross. He was repulsive really.
Therapist: So, you've been drugging him secretly?
Dennis: Giving a man medicine for his disease. Wherever did I get that idea?
Therapist: What are you writing?
Dennis: What? No, not writing. Drawing. Drawing conclusions. Drawing this...
(Dennis holds up his drawing of himself holding the naked Therapist's grossly exaggerated and oversized breasts from behind) You like this? It's very generous.