Off the Map

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On the Mean Streets of San Miguel

Lily, Charlie, and Dr. Ben prepare to embark for San Miguel, with Dr. Ben doing a whole lot of mansplaining about how it's such a rough-and-tumble city and how the post office there is notorious for demanding bribes. "Bribes keep our economy going," Charlie says. "Bribes and bananas." Well, it took four episodes, but Charlie finally got a funny line. Ben insists that it's policy never to offer bribes, lest the corrupt city officials think they can get away with it. Lily says that will be no problem for her, since she's such an obey-the-rules gal anyway. She then somehow uses that to segue into asking Dr. Ben about his relationship with Clark. He's taken aback, so she apologizes for prying, but he finally says it's no secret. They've been on and off for a year, fighting and making up and such. Charlie chimes in that they make up a lot. Loudly and in different locations. Gross, Charlie. Back to making banana-based jokes. "It's complicated," Lily volunteers on Ben's behalf. "Such is love," Charlie says pointedly to Lily. Oh, right, he's in love with her. Lily grasps the awkwardness, then, of a four-hour ride in the cab of a truck flanked by the hot, unavailable doctor you're crushing on and the minor who's got a boner for you.

Mina and Clark have found Dr. Cole and are updating him on the whole Nazi situation. Their views on the subject are pretty well clarified as Mina runs down Karl Gustav Wolf's case like a Nuremberg prosecutor, while Clark tries to remind Cole that they know him, they knew his wife, he joined the SS at age 16, before he knew what it was all about. Hey, if that argument's good enough for the Pope... Cole is pointedly silent, gobsmacked by the revelation. Mina wants the government involved, and Cole agrees, telling her to call such-and-such naval base. He stomps off, grumbling that Dr. Ben leaves for one afternoon and they suddenly find the last Nazi in South America.

Plastics is managing the walk-ins when a rude (but hot) 20-something dude comes barreling past the front of the line and into the exam room. Plastics tries to tell him all about lines and the social contract and whatnot, but the guy instead commands that he shut the doors before he finally reveals his ailment: the faintest hint of a fine-ass booty. No, sorry, he does reveal that, but the rear angle is only there to disguise his real ailment: an untamable six-hour boner. Tangent: "The Untamable Six-Hour Boner" would be a great title for an off-off Broadway play, don't you think? (Conversely, "The Unsinkable Molly Brown" is a great nickname for your penis.)

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Off the Map

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