Ed Gamble The Conveniently Mute Husband has apparently pissed off his wife. She stalks up to Pratt and snits, "I asked him for a divorce and he went mute. It's his variation on the cold-shoulder act." Pratt doesn't much care, and Gallant interrupts to dump a bunch of charts into his hand. "These are [Malarkey's]," Pratt gripes. Gallant swears he's searched high and low and hasn't found him, and he's late for dinner with his family. Finally, some breeders I would want to see. Mostly so I could thank them. Pratt agrees to cover for Gallant, surprisingly pleasantly considering they haven't historically liked each other, and turns back to Ed's wife. She thinks Ed is faking this to keep her with him, not realizing that she's kind of boring and not really worth it. But he might just be insane; she figures he needs psychiatric help either way. Pratt orders a passing nurse to call Psych. "Yes, doctor," she says in accented English.
Then, Lester resurfaces to ask Pratt to look at a patient who claims he was bitten by a rat. Pratt calls over Easily Nauseated Blonde Nurse, who whines, "That woman blew her nose on my smock!" Pratt orders a tetanus shot and a test. "Test the rat," the man says, holding up the rat that bit him. ENBN -- who is also apparently easily grossed out -- throws up her hands and quits, shrieking, "This is not what I went to nursing school for." Turns out she thought it was breastfeeding school, and boy can you color her embarrassed. Pratt calmly orders Lester to throw out the rat. "Still gotta take a piss," he says, proud to hear no bleeping over that word.
And finally, at long last, The Roiling Bladder Of Greg Pratt comes to an end. As he scouts the urinals, Pratt hears a voice coming from one of the stalls. Angrily throwing open the door, he finds Malarkey on his mobile, asking questions of someone with a textbook open on his lap. "Hang up!" Pratt shouts. "You're a second-year resident, not a med student. You can't be calling [anyone] just to help you through a shift. Get on the floor and do your damn job!" Cowed, Malarkey blinks and nods. "And for God's sake, light a match or something," Pratt sneers, slamming shut the stall door. We fade to black wondering why, sweet Jesus why, Pratt felt he needed to give us that malodorous detail. Or why Malarkey didn't lock the stall if he was actually dropping some samples at the lab.