Blood Type B(igot)

(I’m in the waiting room at the ER, waiting for news about my girlfriend. There’s a very agitated patient at the counter with a cut on his hand, but he’s demanding to speak to a nurse before he gets any attention. )

Patient: “I need to know if there’s any way to make sure I get the right kind of blood if I need a transfusion.”

Hospital Employee: “Of course, we check your blood type and make sure we get a match. If you give a type A person type B blood, it can be very dangerous, so we have to be careful. But looking at your hand, I don’t think you’ll need—”

Patient: “No no no! You filthy ingrate; you don’t understand! I want to make sure I don’t get no [racial slur] blood! You need to make sure that if I get a transfusion, it’s white blood!”

(Everyone in the emergency room is staring at him. He turns around to glare at us all.)

Patient: “What? You have no right to judge me! I have pride; that’s all that matters! If I want to keep my blood pure. These idiots need to make sure that happens!”

Hospital Employee: “Sir, we don’t keep racial records on blood donors. Nor do the blood banks. We make sure there are no blood-borne illnesses, and that the typing matches.”

Patient: “That isn’t good enough! I ain’t getting no [racial slur] blood, you hear me?”

Hospital Employee: “Again, sir, looking at this injury, you shouldn’t need a transfusion. You’d literally have to have someone come in and donate blood to you.”

Patient: *to me* “You! You’re white! What blood type are you?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir; I couldn’t, in good conscience, save the life of a bigot.”

(Everybody applauds, but the man actually passes out. They stitch up his hand, and unsurprisingly, he doesn’t need blood.)