Derek checks in on the creeping paralysis guy, whose name, ironically, is Walker. His legs are getting worse. He can't move them at all. Derek doesn't know what's wrong with him. Mere enters and asks if Walker's been under stress lately. "You know what's making me stressed?" says Walker. "Being in here and not being able to move." Heh. So true, dude. Derek pulls Meredith aside for a consult. She seems to think this is all caused by an emotional trauma and that it's all in his head. Duff leaps into the room right then and shouts that it's not in Walker's head and that he, for one, believes him. Izzie's all, get your psychic ass back behind this curtain, dude! Walker wants to know if he's crazy and Derek assures him that he's not and that they're going to order a higher-level MRI.
Uh-oh. Looks like someone's told Devo about the pork valve. She's going OFF on her parents about how important her religion is to her and how they just don't get it. Her parents argue that this is about her life. Devo argues that if they stick a pig part inside of her, she might as well be dead. Her parents are like, yeaaaaah. We should NEVER have let you go to that Hebrew school sabbatical. They want to know why she can't just be Reform like everyone else. Devo's all, you guys don't even light candles on Friday nights and you sure as hell don't know all the Passover plagues! "Boils, vermin, pestilence," twirps Alex brightly. "Even I know that." Heh. The parents look at him like he has a pharaoh crown on his head, and Burke looks at the ground as if he doesn't even know Alex is there. As Burke tries to tell Devo that without this procedure, she will die, Alex goes over the Passover plagues in a barely discernible whisper. Hee. "You're hotshot doctors," snaps Devo. "You'll come up with something else. As long as it doesn't answer to 'Wilbur' and say 'oink,' I don't care what it is."
Izzie takes Duff for an MRI. He flirts with her, telling her that her nostrils are flaring, and she's into him. "Dr. Small-and-Angry was just a hot appetizer," he says, "but you, doc, are a smorgasbord of lust." Izzie humorlessly tells him he's pushing his luck. She's about to send him through the tunnel when he gets his whooooowaaaaahwaaaaah face again and tells her, "I'm looking at you, sweetheart, but it's the strangest thing. I'm hungry for a chocolate cupcake." Izzie's freaked. "What'd you say?" "A chocolate cupcake. One of those fudgey things with the white squiggle on the frosting." What, you mean like Hostess Cupcakes? Dude. Gimme two bucks. I'll go down to the 7-Eleven and get you some. Izzie's thoroughly creeped, though she tries to hide it by trying to get Duff to admit that she still has chocolate or something on her face. Duff has no idea what she's talking about. Izzie's all, hey, I know the drill; next you'll be reading my cards and telling me my dead uncle is in the room. "Is he?" breathes Duff, mocking her. "I don't have a dead uncle," snaps Izzie, shoving him into the MRI tube. Heh.