Alma's lying in bed, eyes closed, and she's got bloody bandages on her wrist. Gloria is there, holding a Scotch. Orson asks why Gloria didn't call an ambulance, but she snips that she "thought it best for all concerned to keep this quiet." Gloria points out that Alma left Orson a note, it's sitting right there next to the bed. Fast cut to...

...Orson, sitting with Gloria in the chairs across from Alma's bed, holding a Scotch of his own and looking at the note. The part that we can see reads: "Make you love me again, even after the terrible thing I did. I was wrong. If I can't live with you, I don't want to live at all." Orson rants that Alma only attempted suicide to "upset" him, that she knows his "history," and therefore "knows exactly what buttons to push." Gloria pours him more Scotch and shoots him a smug look that I can't believe he misses -- maybe he's drunk? He goes to stand up and immediately falls back into his chair. He is drunk. Or wait...DRUGGED! Orson looks at his glass, then at Gloria, and pieces it together. Alma sits up and removes her bloody bandages, which are totally fake. Orson, with hilarious flying-tea-cup eyes, asks Gloria what it is that she wants. Gloria: "What every mother wants, dear: a grandchild!" Ew. Alma takes off her robe, and underneath she's wearing this red lingerie thing that sort of looks like a bathing suit from the '50s, which makes no sense, but I must say, she looks very pretty in it. Pretty and completely bananas. Orson tries one last time to stand up and tips right out of his chair (a TULLSTA, if I'm not mistaken...I'd recognize that tippy instability anywhere).

Together Alma and Gloria lift Orson onto the bed -- the fact that Alma stripped down while Gloria was still there makes this whole thing even creepier. Gloria, all nudge-nudge: "Why don't I give you two some privacy?" Alma thanks her enthusiastically. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Orson tries again to sit up, but Alma slams him back onto the bed. "You mustn't struggle," she chides, "I want this baby to be born of love!" Orson's eyes are huge, screaming alarm bells. Alma gets up to put a silk scarf over the lamp and spray herself with perfume, and as preps for love-time, she tells Orson that she's been injecting herself with hormones so she'd be sure to catch pregnant once they finally got together. Hormones! We totally called it! Orson: "You're crazy." Alma, in the voice of Simka from Taxi: "Crazy for you, mister!" She tweaks his nose. Oh no, no. My brain, she is hanging out the Do Not Disturb sign, but my eyes, they cannot look away! Orson: "I won't, you can't make me." Ah, but she can: She gleefully informs him that his drink was loaded with two kinds of pills. "One to put you to sleep," she says, "and one to keep the part of you I need nice and perky." Isn't that how John Belushi died?