Wait now. What's that sound? What's that ringing bell? What are those fluorescent lights and blackboards and microscopes and students and…IS THIS SCHOOL? Dude. I thought that set had been scrapped and sold to some Head of the Class reunion movie somewhere. But no. Even the same bio teacher is there, though I'm fairly certain he played a history teacher once on this very show sixty-seven seasons ago. Max swiftly makes his way across the room (on the verbal cue of the bio teacher loudly saying the word "fruit fly," just by the way) and wakes up a sleeping Liz, who apparently fell into a deep slumber during the fashion generation known as "Ferris Bueller's Girlfriend" and woke up here in 2002 when weirdly Eurythmics suit jackets with exceedingly wide lapels are no longer appropriate for the daily wardrobe. Max points out a "bit of drool," which Liz proclaims as "disgustink." And, really, it is. Mr. Nerdy Bio Glorified Extra makes his way over to Max and Liz's lab table and asks, "Mr. Evans, Miss Parker, is there a problem in your corner of teen angst?" Callous, uncaring dork in a sweater vest. Why, I oughta…anyway, who cares? Max asks Liz if she's feeling worse, and they walk to the other side of the room because there's about to be some really queer CGI that requires the use of a mirror. And that appears to be the only reason. Max humorously (though I have no idea why this is funny) informs her that "it's mono." Maybe it's because it's the kissing disease. Hoo hoo ha ha ha! Infection! Liz continues that she would have stayed home today, "if my dad wasn't on my case about this interview." What interview is that? "I have an appointment with the admissions person from Harvard in two days." Max broods at the thought. That blasted MTV is to blame for Max's resentment of higher education, with its money for nothing and its chicks for free! Liz walks over to the mirror for her visit from crappy CGI. She holds a beaker and stares and stares. I know, Liz. We can't believe the suit, either. But who am I to disagree? I've traveled the world and the seven seas. Everybody's looking for something. She stares into the mirror. Her face disappears. Then it reappears. Liz looks woefully concerned. Maybe Max could amble over and loudly announce the word "polio" and lighten the mood up again like his rollicking "mono" quip of a few moments back. Hey, Liz. Consumption. Bah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!