Malarkey is shining a light into an old man's eyes. Phew! That could have been so much worse. Malarkey accuses him of not using his prescribed eye drops, and the old man knowingly nods that is nephew gave him an herbal remedy instead. "It's called Kona Gold," he says, pulling a bag of weed partway out of his shirt pocket. The clouds part over Malarkey's head and a beam of heavenly light shines down upon his troubled, dumber-than-a- Pratt-photo-album soul. It's all Malarkey can do to stop from kissing the man's feet and singing hosannas.
Coop calls Malarkey away from the pot at the end of his rainbow. He needs bandages. He's treating a German man whose carving knife mistook his forearm for the Thanksgiving turkey. The wife made him use the electric knife. "It's from Germany," she says helpfully.
Pratt wheels in Morgan Westbrook, who fractured his pelvis in a traffic accident. He seems otherwise okay, but is on the phone to his regular doctor. Pratt grabs Malarkey and they set him up in Trauma Yellow. "How do we tell pelvic bleeding from intra-abdominal?" Pratt quizzes Malarkey. Except they're both second-year residents, so since when does Pratt do the teaching at this hospital? I know Malarkey's a new, probably inbred species of idiot, but Pratt's totally overstepping. Nevertheless, Malarkey answers him. Elizabeth enters and adds, "What if he's unstable?" Malarkey suggests doing an ultrasound. "No. Superpubic mini lap and DPL," Elizabeth replies. Wow. I have no idea what any of that means, although "superpubic" would make a great name for a garage band. Pratt wants Malarkey to stay and assist, but he fumbles through some excuse to get back to Old Man Reefer. "This is a primo teaching case!" Pratt scolds him. Malarkey blubbers another excuse and scurries away. "He squeamish?" Elizabeth asks. "No, just stupid," Pratt frowns.
Frank unwraps everything and carefully sets up the Thanksgiving buffet. Abby needs a chaperone for a pelvic exam, but there aren't any available nurses. Neela pipes up and offers to help Abby, who pauses and then glibly refuses the aid. Neela's left standing there wondering if someone put crushed halitosis pills in her toothpaste.
There's still gridlock in the ICU, so Mr. "Judy" Garland won't be getting home to Kansas any time soon. He's fine with it. Nobody likes Kansas.
Frank has a turducken as part of the spread. Neela's confused and maybe a little horrified at this -- a chicken stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey. She bolts rather than accept a taste, but I've heard they're awesome. There's stuffing in between each layer, usually Cajun, from what I've seen. They sound so tasty. It looks a bit freaky, though -- the legs look kind of tied together, as if they can't be allowed to spring open lest the "ducken" portion shoot out like a cannonball. A delicious, juicy cannonball. This part of the episode is shamelessly dragging. They know we know there's a crash coming up and they're making us wade a long, boring slog through badly paced non-drama before we get the fireworks.