Romano slowly strolls into Trauma Yellow and sets his jaw. Then he sets aside his coffee cup, removes his stethoscope from around his neck, and shrugs off his long lab coat with difficulty. Off comes Go-Go-Gadget Heartbreak, which he stares at for a second, cradling it in his good hand before throwing it furiously through the window into Trauma Green. The glass shatters to match how he feels. A few people behind him stop and stare, confused, because that's what the stage directions told them to do.
Outside the restaurant, Chen's parents pull away in their swanky Mercedes, and Chen lets out a sign of relief. "How bad was that?" she giggles. "What, the jellyfish or the ambush?" Pratt asks good-naturedly. Chen apologizes sincerely for her parents' appearance. "If it's any consolation, they didn't hate you," she says. Are these the same parents who were so appalled at her relationship with a black guy in Season Six? Right. Maybe Pratt's just safe until he knocks her up.... Oh, God, don't let him knock her up. A Prattlet and a Chenette -- a Chattlet? -- would be a demon baby beyond anything even Rex The Wonder Preemie could be. Pratt's amused by her remark, so Chen clarifies that her traditionalist parents want her to marry someone Chinese and are scouting for husbands in China. "Just tell them to relax. It's not like we're getting married or anything," Pratt offers, raising his arm to hail a cab. Chen turns to stone. Burn. Because no matter how much she agrees with that sentiment, it's going to make her think bitterly, "Wait a second, though, why NOT? Why so vehement?" Then, Chen pulls a bad idea from her feathered hair shelf and throws it right at Pratt. "What are we doing?" she asks. A Mafioso runs out and gives her the kiss of death. "You're kidding, right?" Pratt gapes. "We're dating. We're having fun. Neither one of us is ready to settle down, right?" Chen doesn't like this answer, I guess, for reasons I will never understand because Pratt's always been such a sacfungus to her. Pratt doesn't get why she's freezing up on him. Chen gets into her cab, which she's clearly not going to share with him, and curtly says, "I'm sure you'll find yourself a new bang buddy. Good night." She leaves a dumbfounded Pratt standing by himself on the street, and a collective whoop rises from America's living rooms. Ding, dong, the witch is dead.