Lucky for you, I'm way ahead of that! I just called 119 and the ambulance should be on its way once the girl on the other line feels like it's less time for chit-chat and more time to save my life.

[And hell if her lack of insurance is going to stop her from getting treated. She can't very well suck out the poison when it's in her throat and the hospital here is definitely going to ask for her insurance.

While Excel suspects that the hospital and Milkman are in cahoots (a conspiracy that will be dealt with another time), getting treated is a top priority. Once they do, she'll hoof it just like at every other restaurant. A treatment and dash! That's the ticket.]