Dear Abby

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Heathen: C+ | Grade It Now!
Dear Abby

Cut to Abby staring up at the clock. It's a few ticks from 1 PM, and she's listening to a guy ramble on about his screwball symptoms. The second the hour hits, Abby smiles brightly. "I'm out! A nurse will be with you in one minute," she says, exiting. Heh. She passes Old Man Crabby, who's now lying on a gurney and still asking about his sandwich. She ignores him and seeks out Frank; when she finds him, the camera pans around behind him so that we can see he's hiding her letter, now fully opened and practically ironed out to improve legibility. I don't know why he bothered. I read the letter posted on, and the wrinkles could've only improved its pathetic phrasing and smug, ham-handed grasps at depth. Frank tells Abby that all the relief nurses are at Dunkin' Donuts being a plot contrivance and hitting on the mustache guy who makes the donuts and brews the coffee, and they're not leaving until one of them takes him home for a strategic shave.

Romano stalks up with the nurses' petition clutched in his good hand. "Did you sign this?" he asks. "No," Abby says. "Smart girl," he retorts. "Should have," she mutters. Romano orders Jerry to collect all the signees within five minutes, but Jerry busts them thoughtlessly: "They staged a walkout." Abby smacks Jerry behind Romano's back and covers, "No, they're on a break." Romano threatens to fire them, and Abby claims he can't, but he points out that he can do as he likes if they walk off the job in an effort to service Abby's storyline. I'm not sure how much of this is true, but it definitely seems like Romano's wielding more power over union employees than he realistically would, and that Abby's officially the least effectual Nurse Manager in history.

Abby trots off to find her fellow nurses. Frank spies Go-Go-Gadget Nurse-Axing Attachment and grins, "Hey, you got a hook! Suits you." Romano fumes, "Shut up."

Outside, Abby bumps into B.Y.O. Urine Sample; now he's toting a stool sample in a Ziploc bag. Horrified, Abby tells him to dispose of it, and runs off to find her colleagues. She's interrupted by a young kid tumbling out of a car, clutching at his profusely bleeding left side. "Somebody shot me," he sputters. Abby runs to him and lets him collapse against her. His name is Bobby. "It's okay, Bobby," she soothes him. "Don't let me die," he blubbers as she hugs him and yells for assistance. We fade to black wondering how long it will take those words to form a sandwich and force-feed themselves to Abby with a side of potato chips and a pickle wedge.

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