In New York (you can tell, because we're right across the street from Radio City Music Hall), "Queen" Elizabeth "of Bedside Manor" Corday and Mark "Runaway Brain" Greene get out of a cab. Elizabeth pays the cabbie and Mark comments that she gave him a "nice tip"; Elizabeth exposits that "it's New Year's Eve" and that the driver has "a long day ahead of him." Mark starts rhapsodizing about what a great job the cabbie has, and he's so right. I really wish the career path I chose required me to sit in impenetrable traffic for eight hours at a stretch, peeing into an apple-juice can between smelly, obnoxious fares -- except on major holidays, when said fares are probably drunk, too. I guess the only fun a cabbie gets during his shift comes from pretending to be off-duty when black people try to hail him. Anyway, according to Mark one of the perks of their cabbie's day is "no brain surgery." Maybe he is having brain surgery today, Mark. Why assume? Elizabeth says, "Very funny," in that way that means, "That was not funny," and Mark muses that he's sent hundreds of people to the OR but has never been himself. Elizabeth deduces that he's "a virgin." Girl, please. You wish he was a virgin. And so do I. She does not, however, further take the piss out of him by recommending that he get a coat that fits him. But she should. Because he looks like he's playing dress-up in Triple H's rag bag. Plus he ties his scarf the same way my grandma does -- like an ascot. And his hat...okay, let me shorthand this: Mark looks like ass. Not even hot ass -- cold ass. AnyWAY, Mark further bores us all by noting that he still has his tonsils (me too), his appendix (me too), and that the only time he's ever been under a general anaesthetic was in the dentist's chair (me too -- well, it was for wisdom-tooth extraction, but I was actually in a hospital. Still -- goocher?). Elizabeth says that it's "no different, really," and Mark's all with the gallows humour, "Oh, sure. Pull a tooth, have my skull sawed open -- it's pretty much the same thing." Elizabeth says she meant that the anaesthesia's no different, and Mark adds, "Except for the part when they wake me up." Hm. The "except for the ______ part" construction. Shout-out? Probably not. Elizabeth Up With Peoples, "At that point, you'll know things are going well." Because it's going to be an awake craniotomy. Remember? They stare at each other. Alex Kingston does a really good job making it seem like it's taking every ounce of her energy to put on a brave, smiling face. Anthony Edwards looks...the same as he always does, only worse dressed. Horns honk. A plane flies overhead. For some reason, they both look up at it like Okies, and we see that Mark has a couple of Old Fisherman's Stickie Pads stuck to his head. Oh, the pathos. Well, it is pathetic, but not in the literary sense. He looks down, his cheeks all collapsed like he forgot to put in his teeth, and just when I'm waiting for him to reassure himself Bill Borchardt-style (you know: "It's all right! It's okay! There's something to liiiiiiiive for! Jesus told me so!"), Elizabeth brightly asks him if he's ready. He says, "Let's do it." She takes his arm, and they go up the steps to the hospital.
Cut to a smashed vehicle and the sound of saws. We pan over to the [gasp!] blood-streaked, moaning, but still cute face of CuteDean. They're trying to be all clever with the camera, but you can tell by the way his hair falls that CuteDean is upside down. With great hesitation, he tries to turn his head toward K-9, who also seems to have his head mashed up against the roof of the car. Outside, you can hear the sounds of paramedics working to free them. A toque-clad head pops in, upside-down (because of the wacky inverted camera), and it kind of looks like...hey, it's "Dr." Dave Malucci! I didn't recognize him at first, because he's upside down, and actually looks kind of...not horrible. He has nice eyes. And...sorry, I had to go fire myself. I reluctantly hired myself back on a probationary basis. ["Not so fast, Luanne Braille. Go clean out your desk." -- Sars] Dr. Dave sort of examines CuteDean -- as much as one can when the patient is basically a human/SUV cyborg -- and CuteDean manages to choke, "No, take my dad!" "I'm sorry, kid, but first we have to cut off your hockey leg," intones Dr. Dave. Just kidding. He quietly, but urgently, tells CuteDean that they need to get him out of the vehicle first before they can get to K-9, and then yells orders to the paramedics outside. CuteDean tells K-9 that he's "hurt pretty bad," and then starts to cry feebly as they yank him out of the SUV. K-9 watches helplessly -- immobilized as he is by the fine Ford product that has evidently become his makeshift coffin -- and calls out CuteDean's name as they load him into the rig. Dr. Dave pokes his head back in; K-9 asks what's wrong with CuteDean. Well, he has a peanut allergy. Oh, and he's just had his body folded up like an accordion. Dr. Dave tells K-9 that they're taking CuteDean to the hospital, asks K-9 his name (which is Dan Harris) and what day it is (which Dan, formerly K-9, correctly pegs as New Year's Eve). He then shines a little flashlight into the camera and...okay, my eyes are equal and reactive, so point that thing somewhere else. Perhaps somewhere that light doesn't tend to penetrate? Like, where the sun doesn't even shine? Now you read me.