Carter bellows for Pratt, who of course pokes his head around the door and is like, "Hey, that's scary, but I have some stitching to do over here," because he's gone from slick stud to Dr. Dud. Carter won't have it. "Get a med student to do it," he snaps.

Sam deals with Louie, one of the regular triage crackpots, who scoops her up and holds her timidly aloft when she tries to give him a shot. Abby recognizes him, rescues Sam, and feeds Louie a piece of gum so that he'll accept his shot. Then she and Sam leave so that Abby can privately tell her that she shouldn't get the wrong idea about Luka. "He's a good guy," she insists. She meant "lay," right? I think she meant "lay." Sam swears she isn't looking for anything right now. "Okay. I just thought you should know," Abby smiles. Sam thanks her, but insists that singledom works for her. "Although I wouldn't mind regular sex," she admits. "No kidding. I'd settle for irregular sex," Abby cracks.

A woman enters, screaming for aid for her husband. Apparently, she shot him in the leg. He's mildly vexed about it.

Sam explains to Gallant that Amy's sleeping off the events of the day; Gallant wants to keep Rudy there with her. "DCFS won't let us do that," Sam cautions him. "They'll want to place him." Since they only need one night, Gallant begs her to admit him, and starts talking about how dehydrated Rudy probably is, and how he's complaining of abdominal pain. Sam is suspicious until Gallant finally levels with her: "If this was your kid...." Sam relents, and agrees to work up a chart so that Rudy can stay with Amy. Gallant enters the room and promises Rudy that he'll be able to stay at the hospital. Rudy looks depressed. "They took my gun," he frowns. "How am I going to protect my mom?" Gallant assures him that his father will go to prison for this. "He'll get out," says Rudy sadly. "He always does. He turns out the light so I can't see him hitting my mom, or find the phone, but I can always hear him." Gallant is wigged, and gets called away before he needs to supply a response. He limply promises that everything will be okay, and hightails it out of there.

Here, my notes read, "Lester does compressions on Granny Tussis." Then, two sentences later: "Oh, it's CARTER, not Lester. HA HA HA, nutslab." If that case of mistaken identity doesn't prompt Carter to romance the business end of a razor, I don't know what will. Pertussis Mom is in the background watching all this; Carter stops the compressions as Granny goes into v-tach. Here, as the camera pans around, it dips down low enough to catch a glimpse of the giant, fuzzy white blob that exists where her nude breasts would be. Well, that's why she's dying! She's made of cotton! Granny flatlines, and Pratt calls the time of death. "You ran a good code," Carter insists. "Didn't help her any," Pratt pouts, exiting. Kem translates the bad news to Pertussis Mom, who commences the requisite wailing.