...commercials. Oh, look: Sherry Stringfield is finally coming home. Great! I've needed that toilet cleaned for months now. And she can start a load of wash as soon as she walks through that door, too. Wretched woman, leaving me without any clean underwear for years.
Back in the alley, Phil's announcing to Kenny and Shirley that he's going to lay in a clear coffin for two weeks; David Blaine did it for one week, and Phil wants to make Blaine look like an amateur. Shirley wants to know how he'll do this, and Phil says he will control his breathing, which will slow his heart rate, placing himself in a state of semi-hibernation. He decides to take it for a test run. He orders, "Ready the clock, Kenneth," and then instructs Shirley to lower the lid. "Ten-four, good buddy," she says. Once locked into the casket, he lays there for a few seconds before having a total freakout, screaming, "Let me out! Let me out!!" He's crying and gasping for air. Once the lid is opened, he becomes calm and reserved. "How long was I down there?" he asks Kenny. "Eight seconds," Kenny says. Phil's impressed and quips, "That's a start." I'll go on record right here and right now: I want Phil to carry my claustrophobic babies. You know, if that were medically possible.
A woman knocks on Ed's office door. Her name is Lydia, and she's G 'n' R's wife. Ed didn't know that G 'n' R had a wife. She says there are lots of things Ed doesn't know about her husband. She wants to know where he is; Ed won't tell her because of those gosh-darned lawyer/client priveliges. Lydia informs Ed that her husband has cancer and is running away from it. When the doctor told him he had cancer, he told the doctor that he had the wrong guy and left, and they haven't seen him since. "Tell me where he is," she pleads. "I can't tell you," Ed whispers back. She offers Ed her phone number, and instructs Ed to please tell George to come home. Okay. This is the part where I started getting choked up. The entire episode you think this guy is some demon from hell, and then you find out he's dying. No tears yet. Just a burning in my chest.
Mike comes into the office three hours late, dressed like Opie Taylor if Opie grew up and was a speed freak. Dr. Jerome calls him into his office and tells him to sit down. Mike puts his feet up on Jerome's desk. In two months, Jerome will be retiring, and he wants Mike to take over the business. Mike asks if he's kidding. Jerome says, "While I pride myself in having a facile sense of humor, steeped in both satire and irony, I choose not to use it here." In two months, this will all be Mike's. Mike's waited a long time for this moment, and is very thankful for the practice. Then...in true Jerome fashion, he turns on Mike. "What makes you think you can come in here dressed like Don Ho? You look like an inbred seahorse! You're a doctor, not a belly dancer. Now take off that luau costume and get to work!" For once, Mike is glad to be home.