The doc motors into his office to check his messages, but bolts back into the hallway when his beeper erupts. Jolly Green Gina's busily crashing in the ICU. Kellerman joins Fish Lips and Wee Willie at the vegetable's bedside. He quickly realizes that, regardless of the crappy digital overlay, he must harvest Gina's heart now or risk losing her as a donor. Kellerman checks with Fish Lips to ensure the liver and kidney teams are available. Once she assures him that they are, he instructs her to inform the transplant team in Las Vegas of this latest development. He'll "get the heart there somehow." I smell the wacky hijinks already, and they could use a shower and some deodorant. Kellerman races off to scrub up as the attending nurses prepare the vegetable for transport to the OR. Wee Willie quietly observes their work from the side. The machine that goes "Ping!" does so. Repeatedly.
Up in the operating theater, Jolly Green Gina's laid out like -- well, a gigantic, artificially animated cucumber, really, as a solemn and bemasked Wee Willie enters the room. Kellerman offers to notify Willie once he's completed the procedure, but Willie wants to witness the whole harvesting thing himself, which is pretty damn morbid if you ask me. "I loved herrr! I lost herrr! And now I want to see you tearrr herrr body aparrrt! If I can't have her, I'll be damned if that coronerrr will!" Whatever. Willie moves up near the head of the vegetable to observe as Kellerman engages in some medically-sanctioned violence involving a scalpel, a bone saw, and Jolly Green Gina's torso. An obnoxiously anvilicious heartbeat overwhelms the soundtrack as Kellerman cross-clamps the vegetable's aorta, like, I get it, okay? Despite her present vegetative state, Jolly Green Gina's heart beats as one with mournful Wee Willie's. At least until Killer Kellerman rips the bloody thing from her chest. The heartbeat fades out as Kellerman excavates the organ in question, and Jolly Green Gina flatlines for good. Kellerman bags the heart, places it in a lovely Tupperware container, burps the lid, and buries the whole thing in a cooler chest full of ice. Wee Willie reminds him they have exactly six hours to transport the organ to Vegas, even though the local airport remains closed. Kellerman has a plan.
Enter the smelly hijinks, escorted by a snide snare drum and some maracas of easy virtue on the soundtrack. The boys barge into the morgue, rouse the addle-brained "wise guy" freak in charge from his nap on one of the slabs, and ask him if he still owns a Cessna. Wise Guy does, and even better, it's conveniently parked "at a little airstrip across the bay." The boys drag Wise Guy to his feet and manhandle him into the hallway, wondering if he can take off in a crappy digital overlay.