Meanwhile, at $aver's Club -- in no way meant to resemble either Sam's Club or Costco -- Frank is hustling both of his sons through the aisles. When Joey falls behind to check out some motor oil, Frank snaps, "Stop dawdling. You act like you're still on those pills, walking around in a fog half the time." Joey protests that he was getting oil, and Bill points out, "He was doing you a favor [bringing you here]. You should be thanking him." Frank replies petulantly that Joey should be thanking him -- for what, only he and the little voices in his head know -- and as he shuffles off, he leaves behind the two sons who loathe him.
The unhappy trio finally make their way to the casket display in the middle of the floor. While both Bill and Joey take a look at the wooden and metal caskets, Frank goes straight for something that looks like it was used as a lifeboat in World War III -- dented from battle, drab gray, boxy, with a handle listing off the side. He shamelessly proclaims, "This is it! Two-seventy-nine-ninety-nine." Bill actually gapes for a moment; Joey looks like he wishes he were back on the drugs and therefore not experiencing this moment in all its gruesome sobriety. Bill points out, "It's made out of particle board and felt." Frank gleefully adds that it's also got a broken handle so he'll get a discount. Bill protests that perhaps they can get Roberta something nicer, and Frank says smugly that Roberta was a simple woman, so she wouldn't have wanted a nice coffin anyway. "You should have done something nice for her while she was alive," Frank adds with false piety. Then he charges the coffin on Bill's card. It is now my most fervent hope that Season One of this show ends with Frank being shot out of a cannon while still living. This way, not only will he be killed in a way that delivers maximum entertainment, his scattered remains will get exactly the treatment they deserve.
Cut to Margene and Pam, staring in dismay as Love, Actually gets a little dark. Ladies, y'all just need to fast-forward through all the depressing Laura Linney stuff, then pause on any frame where Colin Firth is smoldering. Ben is spying on them. There's nothing too exciting going on, other than Pam fishing for information on Nicki: "Don't you find her a little strange? Stand-offish? I wave, she doesn't wave back. The way she dresses...what's she like?" Margene lies through her teeth and claims that Nicki is merely shy. Very, very shy and retiring and unassuming. Pam does not then follow up with, "If she's that shy, how in the H did she manage to find a man to father those two children?"