Fade In:

Int. Dentist's Office - Day

Sgt. Slaughter, dressed in surgical whites with army insignias on them, is standing next to his dentist's chair. In the chair is a male patient, about thirty.

Slaughter

Hi, folks, Sgt. Slaughter here. In case you haven't heard, Sgt. Slaughter is giving up the rough and tumble world of professional wrestling. I found a much more lucrative career - dentistry. No more will I be inflictin' pain by breaking bones, or gauging eyes. Now, I'll be inflicting pain by drilling gums and yanking teeth. Heh-heh. Sgt. Slaughter's the kind of dentist a real man can go to. Hey, ninety percent of the people who go to dentists don't want to go because they fear pain. The other ten percent go because they love it. That's the ten percent I want. Hey, I specialize in drilling. You know why? Because I used to be a drill sergeant. Heck, I drilled on one patient so long, I had to call OPEC. And, if you're one of them pansies that needs Novocain, no sweat. I just put the needle on the end of my bayonet and CHARGE!!! And don't talk to me about root canal. To me, a root canal is some street in Venice. In most cases I don't even administer Novocain. I got headphones so you can listen to music instead. It plays songs like: "Haven't Got Time For The Pain", "I'm So Hurt" and "King Of Pain." Heh. That's me. King of pain. Sgt Slaughter, D.D.S. So, the next time you're in need of dental care, call Sgt. Slaughter at 555-P-A-I-N. That's 555-PAIN.

He looks at his patient.

Slaughter

Okay, open your mouth.

The patient obeys.

Slaughter

I don't like this tooth.

Sgt. Slaughter grabs a pair of pliers, reaches in the patients mouth and the sound of a loud pop can be heard. He pulls back to show a tooth in the head of the pliers.

Slaughter

Next!