At his office, Mike is on the phone talking to someone when Nancy walks in. Well, guess what? NANCY WANTS SEX. Nancy starts acting all "my hormones are racing" and hops up on a table, talking about how she wants Mike's strong hands running all over her naked body. I just about drop my glass of Kickin' Kiwi Kool Aid all over my lap when she starts talking that trash. Nancy says it's always been a fantasy of hers to have done this, and Mike says it was a fantasy of his too. Nancy asks if she's part of the fantasy that he's talking about, and he says "you were there" and then admits that he always wanted to run his hands all over the Radio City Music Hall Rockettes' bodies. Personally, I think I'd have severe arthritis after living out that fantasy. Nancy keeps waiting for Dr. Jerome to burst in and bitch Mike out, but it doesn't happen. Mike tells Nancy that the guy on the phone was somebody named Henry, and he said that Dr. Jerome's been nominated as the "Doctor of the Year." Nancy asks how Mike can stand to work for the cranky old bastard, and Mike reminds Nancy that someday Jerome will retire and Mike will take over the practice, thus finally being able to take care of Nancy and Sara like he's always wanted, showering them with gifts and bangles and baubles. Nancy keeps waiting for Jerome to bust in, but he doesn't. Maybe he's dead. Dead from choking on the bile that makes up 90 percent of his body.
Back in the bowling alley, Ed and Molly are chatting in a very non-threatening "we're just friends and neither of us wants to sleep with the other" type of way. Ed asks Molly to come to Vega$ Night, and Molly says she can't because she's going out of town for a bris. She then asks if one is supposed to bring gifts to a bris, and Ed says, "Cotton swabs and mercurochrome," which cracks my big ass up. Phil comes waltzing in with an oxygen tank and is sucking it dry, trying to convince Ed that they need the oxygen tank for Vega$ Night. Phil wants to pump oxygen into the bowling alley all night and promises that people will be bowling their brains out until 4 a.m. The machine is so loud that it's hard to hear anyone or anything over it, so when Shirley comes up with a gentleman and announces that Ed has a client, nobody can hear her. Phil finally turns the machine off and Shirley introduces Ed to his latest client...Jerry Foley.
Jerry won the most recent Stuckeyville Open. Wait. No he didn't. He lost it. Jerry is one confused compadre. Jerry then tells the story of how he was leading by one shot and then goes on to use about a shitload of golf terms that I've never heard in my life because Uncle Bob doesn't golf...he reads, bee-yotch. That's what has gotten Uncle Bob as far as he's come...reading, beeyotch. I really should look into some elementary-school speaking engagements. I think I could really get into the heads of the youth of America by telling them to "just read, beeyotches." ["I think it could work. 'Reading Is Fundamental Beeyotches.' It's got a certain rhythm." -- Sars]