Bill has taken Barb to the driving range. "Poor Nicki. I can't help but feel guilty about being here," Barb says unconvincingly, somehow teeing up her next shot without even bending over. Bill non sequiturs that Margene "started her morning sickness," and he thought it would be a good time for Barb to get out of the house. Plus he wants to butter her up on the Weber Gaming thing. He starts out his big presentation by disingenuously saying he wants Barb's advice on a new company he's interested in, in the "entertainment field." And from there he works up to "video games" (which Barb says are too violent), "cards," and "poker." Barb's surprised to hear that Bill's looking into this, but she acts like she's curious for more details. "What do Nicki and Margie think?" she asks, her face telegraphing to us that that's not what she's really wondering. Bill lies that he came to Barb first. Barb looks fiercely pleased at getting the answer she wanted. Or maybe her last drive just went really straight and far. Little does she know that next time she's here, she'll probably want to bring golf balls that are painted to look like Bill's head.

In Roman's ICU room, Alby's creepy-ass wife comes in to find Adaleen and at least two of Roman's other wives hovering over the wounded man. Roman's barely conscious, so of course Adaleen starts telling him all the things wrong with him at top volume. Just what he needs. Roman thrashes around, throwing the blankets off and revealing a fresh blossom of blood on his hospital gown. Which doesn't look like anywhere near the spot he was actually shot, so maybe he was already coming apart to begin with. Adaleen runs out, hollering for help. "What's my platelet count?" Roman yells at the doctors and nurses suddenly swarming over him. They quickly see that Roman is tachycardic, which means he's going back to surgery. Alby comes in late, wondering what's going on. Her voice hoarse (probably from several days of trying to yell through Roman's coma), Adaleen tells him that Roman is bleeding and running a temperature of 106. "Do something, Albert, do something," she bitches at her son. Like what, scrub in? Roman gets wheeled to the OR, singing a bawdy drinking song of some sort the whole way. Alby answers his cell phone, and judging from his reaction, it's not good news.