We fade up on Carter, his head in the air, his fingers tapping boredly on the table. Any second now, he's going to hork aloft a loogie and catch it in his mouth. Abby is standing next to the blackboard, gazing up at a partially erased passage scrawled on it in white chalk. Susan squints at it. "I think that's Whitman," she says. Abby's all, "Huh?" because she is too busy wondering how she ended up in a blue shirt, when she was clearly wearing a maroon turtleneck thirty seconds ago. Susan identifies the poem as "I Sing the Body Electric." Abby nods her comprehension. "Oh, yeah, I know that one," she says. "You know Whitman?" gapes Susan. Abby turns and cocks an eyebrow while rummaging through her purse. "Don't sound so surprised," she says dryly. Susan swears she was only surprised because so few people know him. And she is one of them, because she is deep. I feel like any time writers want to give a character rapid profundity, they make them a literature enthusiast so that we can all hang our heads in ignorant shame and envy. Abby admits she loves the movie Fame (shout-out to Paul McCrane), which Susan excitedly claims to have seen thirty times; she announces that she used to wish she was Coco (cutesy shout-out to Erica Gimpel, who played Coco and plays Adele on this show) and starts singing, "I Sing The Body Electric." Carter rolls his eyes and throws his cup across the room while glaring at Susan's back.