Upon her exit, Chen hails Abby and asks for a finger splint. Abby waves her off, which seems to rankle Chen, but nothing happens. It all goes away. Carter tails her and begs her to set up a detox bed for the prostitute he's treating. "They're as jammed as we are," Abby shakes her head. Carter pulls out the big gun -- he plays "Pre-Teen Hookin' Coke Fiend (Kids, Just Say No!)" on her heartstrings, and the tune moves Abby to promise she'll try to get Anonymous a bed. Pleased, Carter makes a mental note to send roses to his music teacher.

As Abby runs around trying to get the speculum to Luka, Carter tries to firm up their dinner plans with her brother Eric. He wants dirt on Abby's childhood, taken over a course of Thai food. "He's allergic to MSG," smirks Abby, backing into the exam room she thinks contains Luka. Abby and Carter stop short at the sight of a tubby man on his stomach, ass in the air, wincing while Erin punts along the Anal Canal and yanks with all her might on the buzzing vibrator therein. Pratt, positioned to her right, looks disgusted and intrigued at the same time. He's letting her be the butt bandit today. "Maybe we should switch places," Erin begs. Pratt shakes his head. Abby stifles a laugh and asks after Luka; Erin shouts that he's in exam three. "Push enough valium?" she wonders curiously. "Any more and he'd be unconscious," Pratt answers. Suddenly, Erin tugs free the vibrator with a shout of glee. Abby and Carter back away, lest a flying sex toy bone one of them.

As he and Abby part, Carter offers to let Eric pick a place, but Abby replies that Eric's never been to Chicago, so he's not exactly qualified. "Usually we have to meet up in a strange city in front of some psychiatric institution," Abby says with a wry smile. Carter asks if Maggie is okay. "She is, she's fine," Abby nods. Carter picks Morton's, and he and Abby go about their business.

Abby enters Exam Three and finds Dr. Luka "Bermuda Triangle" Kovac staring up the business end of one Effie Lundgren. "You started," she realizes. "Finished," he corrects curtly. "I didn't know when you'd get here." He pulls his hands away, and there's blood on his thumb. Ew. "Put your legs down, Mrs. Lundgren," Luka says. "Effie, please," corrects the woman acerbically. "Lundgren is my husband's name." Luka exposits that she tried "menstrual extraction," or to put it a sicker way, she tried vacuuming out her period. Oh my God. Can a Dirt Devil do that? That's just an egregious misuse of the hose attachment. Abby's face is horrified; Effie haughtily insists that it's a common practice "for when the men who run the world take away your freedom of choice." ["Which is true. Though gross." -- Wing Chun] Abby doesn't look impressed, or moved to wave the flag of feminism while riding the Hoover upright of her choice. "You could perforate your uterus, make yourself infertile, and bleed to death," Luka counters. Effie snaps that if men needed abortions, they'd be legal at drive-thrus with beer on tap and TVs programmed to ESPN. Hey, that's just as sexist, lady -- my ideal anything is a drive-thru with beer on tap and TVs programmed to ESPN. "Wake up, honey," Effie sneers at Abby. "We're at war." Abby cocks an eyebrow. "Conscientious objector," she retorts. Luka, suddenly annoyed by this subplot, abruptly leaves.