We open on Wilson sleeping while guitar music plays. He wakes up and both he and we discover that the music is actually diegetic and coming from the living room, where House had a late-night craving for some George Michael. When George Michael himself has a late-night craving, it so often leads to him being found semi-conscious in cars and getting in trouble with the police. But House just gets in trouble with Wilson, both for waking him up with the opening strains of "Faith" and also filling Wilson's living room with guitars he retrieved from his apartment. The guy downstairs has got to be livid right now, and yet powerless to do anything about it because of gratitude. House acts like he had no idea that Wilson wouldn't be awake already at 6:33 AM. Wilson says he's sleeping in because he's skipping work to go hunting. House will not let Wilson enjoy his few hours of extra sleep, though, following him into his bedroom to accuse Wilson's hunting partner of being a "self-important jerk" based on the fact that he calls Wilson "Jim" instead of James. I think it's more like House hates the thought of Wilson having another friend. What a Jealous Jerry!
Robert Sean Leonard could not look less awkward in his hunting gear holding that rifle if he tried. He fires at nothing and complains that neither him nor his self-important jerk friend Tucker know anything about hunting or guns. Yet there they are shooting them. That doesn't seem like a good idea at all. Tucker suddenly spots some stock footage of wild turkeys and takes aim. He misses, and then it's "time" for what appears to be his and Wilson's annual ritual. If I were them, I'd distance myself from the wild turkeys first, because everyone knows that wild turkeys are vengeful beasts and they will come after you. But perhaps stock footage of wild turkeys is different. Wilson nails an IV bag of chemotherapy to a tree and Tucker speechifies that exactly five years and six months ago, Wilson told him that if the chemo didn't work, he had six months to live. Six months later, he was still alive. Every year after that, he celebrates with a "new and exciting" activity with Wilson in order to thank him. Because nothing says "thanks!" like a hunting trip in the middle of winter in the woods of New Jersey. Wilson writes "Year 5!" on the chemo bag and steps well away from it as Tucker takes aim and blows the bag away. I guess he's not so bad at shooting after all. He sincerely thanks Wilson before firing off another shot -- this time as the result of his arm suddenly becoming paralyzed. Wilson frets over him while the wild turkeys laugh and laugh. "Karma! Karma!" they gobble.