Previously, on Dawson's Creek: Dawson told Gale and the Flash about his plan to drop out of USC. Then the Flash got in his car with a lethal ice cream cone and bought the farm.
A cloudy morning in Capeside. Two strangers scamper across the street to the IHOF, stopping short when they see the sign on the door, which reads "Closed: Death in the Family." The strangers exchange disappointed looks; it's hard to say if they feel bad for the Leerys, or if they're just upset because they really, really wanted some clam chowder. Mmmm, chowder. Hey, just because the Flash is dead, am I supposed to stop living?
A woman begins wailing on the soundtrack, as we cut over to The Leery House Of Bereavement, skimming through room after empty room. Dawson stands in the kitchen, washing dishes and looking numb. As he scrubs a glass, Lily begins to cry. Dawson pauses in the frantic cleaning to listen for a moment; soon, she stops crying. He goes back to scouring, but then his sister begins to wail in earnest. Dawson huffs, tired, and runs up the back stairs. The camera pans over framed photographs of the Leerys in happier, non-grief-stricken times. Times before dairy stole the Flash from the bosom of his family and friends.
Credits, complete with A Very Special Piano-Only Theme Song. Apparently, the Flash is dead and he took Paula Cole with him.
Dawson visits The Capeside Funeral Home For Guys Who Value The Safety Of Dairy Products Over And Above The Charms Of Safe Driving. He and the funeral home director trot down some stairs, en route to the casket display room. It's like I'm suddenly recapping Six Feet Under or something. Except with commercials. And no real hope of either nudity or cussing. Anyway, the funeral director -- let's just call him Larry -- asks after Gale. Dawson tells him that, naturally, she's not doing particularly well. "And you? How are you?" Larry asks. "People ask me that a lot," Dawson responds. "It's a weird question. Every time I start to give too long of an answer -- which I'm starting to do right now -- those same people get very uncomfortable. Not you, though. I guess you're an old pro at this." Larry nods sympathetically. I'm sure the Sympathetic Nod is a reflex for funeral directors. Larry is probably wondering if he turned off the iron. "I guess you could say that," Larry says. "I'm fine," Dawson says wearily, and glances perfunctorily at the caskets on display. "That one," he says, gesturing toward the closest one. "Very nice choice, very tasteful," Larry assures him. "Thank you," Dawson replies.