And we're back. They're ninety-seven miles from Vegas with an hour and forty-five minutes left on the heart clock. Having nothing better to do with the time remaining, Our Intrepid Heroes decide to shower the audience with backstory. Kellerman became a surgeon because "there's no limit to how perfect you can make a coronary anastomosis," and everything else in his life sucks. Wee Willie joined the trauma unit because he "spent a lot of years inflicting injuries" and it "seemed like a good time to learn how to fix them." No wonder one of these losers is divorced and the other can't get a woman to return his phone calls after three weeks. Thankfully, a road sign advertising the Halfway House Café pops up to divert the boys from their tedious yammering.
Café. Kellerman angles the sedan into a parking space, and the boys disembark. Wee Willie scampers towards the ice machine with the cooler while Kellerman heads to the café's door to check on a phone. As he hits the porch, a feisty Latina shoves a pair of leather-clad lesbian motorcycle enthusiasts out of the restaurant, screaming something about the café being closed. Dear God, how much more must I endure? The Dykes Off Their Bikes warn Kellerman against entering, as the feisty ethnics within are currently engaged in a hot-blooded domestic dispute regarding someone's overindulgence in certain 976 numbers. The DOTBs, however, head back in to fetch the carry-out soup they've ordered to go with the sandwiches they already have packed in their cooler. Their blue-and-white cooler. Their blue-and-white cooler that's the exact twin of the cooler containing Jolly Green Gina's rapidly-melting heart.
As I've already no doubt annoyed many of you with my previous reference to one now-obscure screwball slapstick comedy from the sixties that's set in the great state of California, allow me to reference yet another. Have you all seen What's Up Doc? Good. Do you all therefore know exactly what the next twenty-one minutes will involve as far as tonight's A-plot is concerned? Even better. Shall I skip ahead to the scenes from next week's episode? You'd like that? Unfortunately, I can't.
So, Kellerman looks around the diner for a telephone while the DOTBs plant themselves at the counter and refuse to budge until they get their soup. Feisty Latina shrieks and disappears into the back room. Sheepish Latino apologizes and follows the wife, promising to return as soon as he's calmed her down. Wee Willie enters, sets his blue-and-white cooler down right next to the DOTBs' blue-and-white cooler, and joins the phone search. The DOTBs learn that Our Intrepid Heroes are headed to Vegas, which is quite the remarkable contrivance, as the DOTBs are on their way to the exact same city to celebrate their anniversary. Sheepish Latino howls from the kitchen. Feisty Latina emerges to shriek about her faithless husband "flogging his mule for $3.99 a minute," spending more than sixty dollars "getting it in the ear." Uh. That's fifteen minutes total, guys. Something tells me we're meant to infer the Feisty Latina's more upset about the hubby's hair-trigger response to stimuli, if you know what I mean. And nothing says funny like a sexually frustrated ethnic, right? She slams the smashed phone into her husband's chest, hags something about seeing him "call [his] 1-900 whore now," and pedebitches out of the restaurant. Sheepish Latino collapses across the counter, revealing to us all that the spitfire wife sporked him with a steak knife in his right shoulder blade. The DOTBs flee without their soup, but with their blue-and-white cooler. Or is it their blue-and-white...you know what? Fuck it. If the writers can't be bothered to come up with something original and instead choose to rely on thirty-five-year-old movies for their plot twists, then as Niki so often puts it, I can't be arsed to care.
Hospital. The Capacious Lobby Of B-Plot Lust. Madonna's Improbable Boyfriend runs into Shelley, and they agree to prepare a press release regarding the missing surgeons. The camera pans from them past Hot Levi in his civvies to Skippy and Yang, hooking up for their "collaboration" on the paper. Skippy informs her that they'll be heading for a bite to eat, and then it's off to his apartment where he has "all the search engines on his computer." I assume he refers to the subscriber-only engines for online versions of publications like The New England Journal Of Medicine and not, say, Yahoo! Because I don't want to live in a world where this jackass refers to the latter. Maggie grows a pair and bags Skippy's entire proposed itinerary. She doesn't want any "misunderstandings," you see, and would much prefer working on the project in the library. Snippy Skippy throws a hissy and tells her he'll write the damn paper on his own. He orders her to remain in the hospital to treat a handful of patients not her own, including one with "a fecal impaction" whose "eyes will turn brown" if Maggie doesn't take care of things immediately. Skippy also informs Maggie that from now on, she's to address him as Dr. Posner. Much as I might overshare by revealing the following piece of my family history to you good people, I feel obliged to note that fecal impaction killed my grandmother. Thanks for reminding me, Skippy. You scumbag fuck.