Bosley examines his reflection in the bottom of a steel bedpan. Lisa bustles in and asks him how he's doing. He tells her he'd be doing much better with a sponge bath. "You want a bath?" she repeats, innocently. "Yes, please," he coos. Lisa leans her head out the doorway and calls Malik in; Bosley quickly changes his tune. "Never mind," Lisa tells Malik. "Whatever," Malik whatevers, and leaves. Bosley protectively holds the metal bedpan over his crotch, and tells Lisa that she's "a real firecracker." "That's me -- Nurse Firecracker," Lisa replies. He asks her if she's married, and she tartly replies that it's none of his business. "My second wife was a spinster," Bosley announces. "Married her when she was thirty-two." Lisa supposes that the former Mrs. Bosley was "just waiting for the right guy." Bosley confirms this assessment, and adds that they were married another thirty-two years "before she passed." Lisa examines him silently, and Bosley adds, "But don't you worry, because feisty gals like you always take a little longer!" Lisa replies that she wasn't the one who was brought to the hospital for fighting. Bosley says that Poston started it: "He was flirting with my Victoria!" Victoria, it seems, is his "lady friend"; Lisa asks if he and Victoria are "intimate." Bosley shirtily replies, "I still get up a full head of steam, if that's what you're driving at." Oh, man. Did I need to hear about Mr. Cunningham's "full head of steam"? No, I did not. Snapping on her gloves, Lisa asks whether it burns when he pees. Bosley is stunned! Thankfully, they cut away before his action is the topic of further discussion.
And, speaking of action, Weaver is examining a low-rent Brad Rowe; he's gowned, has a little plastic tub over his bits, and is saying, "It was cool at first, but then my girlfriend went to work and it just stayed like that." It's not clear whether he means that his girlfriend "went to work" to her job, or "went to work" on...you know. Weaver asks whether the patient, Gary, had taken any drugs lately, and Gary confesses to having taken a "little coke." "That'll do it," Weaver says blankly, and asks whether he's tried masturbating. Gary is shocked -- shocked! -- at the suggestion: "I'm a Christian!" Oh, the coke-sniffing sect of Christianity. A Methodist, are you? Weaver tells him that helps sometimes, and that she'll have to drain it with a needle instead. Predictably, Gary asks where the men's room is, and hops off the bed, plastic tub in place.