ER
How The Finch Stole Christmas

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How The Finch Stole Christmas

Pukey Santa explains that he and the other Santas drank some bad eggnog. Kerry chides him about the hazards of eggnog, and another Santa pipes up that at least they got to finish their deliveries; the Santas, lawyers and stockbrokers by day, make the rounds of homeless shelters every year with gifts, "to keep [them] human." Pukey Santa, whose heart Kerry is listening to, observes transparently that they could use a Mrs. Claus, and Kerry mutters that she herself could use a glass of wine and a hot bath. Meanwhile, Carter walks up with a chart, says, "Dr. Weaver as Mrs. Claus?" and starts giggling, but before he can make a clean getaway, Kerry snaps, "Hold it, Carter -- compazine and rectal suppositories for all the Santas and rehydrate until symptoms subside." Carter rubs his forehead and mutters, "Bah humbug." Rectal suppositories. Ouch.

In the hall, Cleo tells Luka "Break Forth, O Beauteous Heavenly Croatian" Kovac that he looks "like hell." Cleo, I think you need to stat-page an ophthalmologist, because if that's what hell looks like, I'll just get myself a one-way ticket and some flame-retardant und-- oh, sorry, I must have forgotten myself for a moment. Luka explains that he's in the middle of a double shift, and Cleo commiserates with him, but he says he volunteered for it so that others could spend time with their families. Look out, Carol, I think Luka has designs on your halo. Then Cleo spots someone at the end of the hall: "Chad?"

Sure enough, it's Young Lushenstein, thrashing at Cleo and Luka as they try to get him onto a gurney and yelling, "Get offa me!" Cleo shouts, "Chad, it's Dr. Finch and we're going to help you!" and asks the friend propping Chad up, "What happened?" The friend says Chad got his foot caught in the banister and fell down the stairs; meanwhile, Cleo yells at Luka to watch Chad's neck. As they lower him onto a gurney, Luka asks if Chad lost consciousness. The friend doesn't know, but "maybe -- he's pretty messed up." "On what? On what?" Cleo yells, and the friend looks vague and says he has to go, and he yells, "Hang in there, dude!" to Chad and takes off. Chad says, "No, Tony!" and slumps down on the gurney. Cleo asks if he has any neck pain. Chad doesn't answer. They stabilize his neck, and Luka booms, "Does your neck hurt?" "I'm fine. I'm fine," Chad slurs, doing his best Leo-DiCaprio-in-What's Eating Gilbert Grape impression. Luka reports that Chad's pupils are equal and reactive to light and that he has no "mid-line tenderness," while Cleo says that Chad's talus has a lateral shift of some sort and she has to reduce the deformity; Chad mugs and grimaces. Cleo flexes Chad's leg and orders a bunch of tests and tells a nurse to call his mother. Chad wails, "You're hurting me, stop hurting me," a sentiment I echo as an anvil crashes through the ceiling and pins me to the couch. Cleo reassures Chad while Luka stabilizes his ankle. Chad makes more hurty faces.

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