Then, of course, we move nonsensically outside the courtroom, to a Hallway Suspended on the Tri-Partite Cusp Between Here and There and Nowhere. The Thundercats show the Total Bastard the piece of paper and he looks on it with confusion. Jason reveals, "These are your gambling debts, aren't they, Mrs. Girard?" OH NO THEY DI'INT! We thought it was the Total Bastard Dad, but really it was the Gamblin' Fool Mama who tried to both commit insurance fraud and dispose of a goober son-in-law. Schultz confronts her about doing this to her daughter's husband until she exclaims in frustration to him, "Don't you ever shut up?" giving Jason the opportunity to shake his head in brightly mock agreement, "No, he doesn't!" Gamblin' Fool Mama blurts out her hatred for the goober son-in-law and then confesses she figured she'd kill two birds with one stone. Jason wraps the scene up with some convenient moralizing, telling her that her daughter deserved a whole lot better.
Crazy careening camerawork! And, I must confess, I get a little teary, as this is the last crazy careening transition I'll ever see. Hopefully. Nicole knocks on Jason's office door to hand him his daily calendar. He points out that it's empty, and that he doesn't need it on days when he doesn't have anything scheduled. Nicole goes into Type A mode and babbles about not getting in the habit of skipping days because then on days when he does have something scheduled she might not remember to give it to him. All this talk of a future present that will never come to be has me a bit philosophically muddled. I think I might go curl up with some Nietzsche or something.
Outside the Attorney Ken Beach Bungalow, a sunny Rilo Kiley song plays as Lou cuts star fruit on a little laptop cutting board. Schultz enjoys the fruits of this labor (ouch) when Nicole comes out, reminding them the fruit basket was addressed to Jason. Oh, cram it, lady -- you've got approximately 18 seconds left on this show, so why don't you loosen up and live a little already? Jason comes out and tells Nicole to relax about the papaya, and I'm thinking, is this what fruit baskets in L.A. are like? Star fruit and papaya? Sign me up! I'm sick of sallow Midwestern pears and mealy apples. You know, the imaginary ones I get in my imaginary fruit baskets. Well, I'm saved from ascending to the Great Fruit Basket in the Sky by the end of this episode, wherein Schultz and Jason are left alone on the stoop considering the prospect of working together "all day, every day, forever," when Jason puts on an inexplicable New York accent to say the final words of what is now a tragic set-piece: "Pass the papaya." Pass the papaya, indeed.