As House's best friend, Wilson is the one who looks after his interests, tries to protect him from his own destructive habits, catches him when he falls. In return, House makes fun of him, pulls pranks, and generally abuses him on a daily basis. And each time, Wilson comes back for more. "Would never happen in real life!", critics might scream. Well...
He had the nerve to insult me in some fashion and then discovered a picture of himself hanging on the refrigerator with a plastic knife piercing the crotch and a line from my favorite Chicago song written across the bottom ("he had it comin', he had it comin', he only had himself to blame").
He hovers over the kitchen counter when making PB&J sandwiches, like a dog protecting a bone, because if he lets his attention slip for half a second I smash my hand down on the bread.
When The Vulcan got his vasectomy during the holiday season, I serenaded him with "All I Want for Christmas Are My Testicles" to the tune of "All I Want for Christmas Are My Two Front Teeth."
Despite his frequent warnings that I'm not to touch his computers, with all their stock market tickers and graphs flying around the screens, he frequently comes back from the bathroom to find me in his office chair chirping, "I'm gonna buy a stock."
cane he bought me for Mother's Day. What an idiot he was to acquiesce to that request...
Wilson would never stay with House and all his personality quirks, you say? Well, my husband's been here for 17 years and shows no signs of leaving. I know he's just joking when he says he can't, the alimony would cost him too much. He's as happy today as he was 17 years ago. Might be time for the man to talk to a psychiatrist about that.
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