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“What’s that?” asks Wilson, walking through the door.
House doesn’t move a muscle. Wilson walks over the coffee table, picks up the DVD case, and reads off, “Dead Poets Society.” He turns over the back cover.
“Never heard of it.”
This gets House’s attention. “Never heard of it?” he scoffs.
“Sue me.”
“The main guy looks exactly like you.”
“Robin Williams?”
House shoots him a look. “No. Him.” He points at the screen. The movie is paused on a frame of Neil Perry.
Wilson, walks over to the tv, hands in pockets, and stares at the image.
“I don’t see it.”
“What do you mean you don’t see it?”
“Looks nothing like me.”
“You’re serious.”
“Deadly.”
“Hey, Cuddy,” House shouts, catching up to her on the ground floor of the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital.
She stops with arms crossed, staring daggers at him. “What?”
“You ever see the movie Dead Poets Society ?”
“With Robin Williams?”
“Exactly. You remember the main kid?”
She looks momentarily bewildered. “No. I saw it once over 15 years ago.”
House sighs. “The main kid looks exactly like Wilson–”
“Look, do you have a real problem?” she asks.
House stops and considers, searching for an answer on the hospital ceiling. “Your boobs are too distracting?”
Cuddy rolls her eyes and returns to her office.
“Your ass is too juicy?”
But the door is already shut.
In House’s office are two giant posters on stands.
“Exhibit A,” says House, pointing with his cane to his unamused team, “Is the character Neil Perry, played by one Robert Sean Leonard. Exhibit B…” He moves his cane to thwap the other poster.
“Is a picture of Wilson.”
“That’s a terrible photo,” says Thirteen.
Chase sighs. Foreman has nothing to say except to see where this is all going.
House stares at them, expecting them to pick up on the obvious.
“Nothing?”
They blink blankly back at him.
“And I thought I hired you guys for your attention to detail. These guys don’t look the same to you?”
Chase frowns and shakes his head.
Silence.
“Are they supposed to?” asks Thirteen after a moment, looking around. “Is there some kind of joke we’re missing here?”
House is, for once, dumbfounded.
“Okay, do I need to get ophthalmology up here to check your eyes?”
“Do we need to get neurology up here to check your brain?” says Foreman.
House ignores the jab and takes out Exhibit C, the poster behind Exhibit B. It’s Wilson’s senior photo.
“Where the hell did you find that?” asks Wilson, immediately regretting his decision to pop in. “And where did you get these printed?”
“You’re telling me that these two,” House says, motioning between the Exhibits, “look absolutely nothing alike.”
“That’s what we’re saying,” says Foreman. “Now can we get back to the case?”
“Exhibit A’s nose is way different from Wilson’s. Like not even close,” says Chase.
Wilson puts his hands up in victory. “Exactly!”
“The eyes, too,” says Thirteen, squinting at both posters, eyes darting back between them.
“See? You’re the only one who thinks so,” says Wilson, unable to hide the triumph in his voice.
House stares incredulously at all of them, unable to tell if this was a coordinated prank, and if so, he was so, so proud.