Jackhole answers the phone, telling "Roscoe" to "talk loud; [he's] in the healing waters, here." He starts giving Roscoe stock orders, and Will can't contain himself any longer and says, "Excuse me, sir -- this is a quiet place." Helen tries to hush Will; Jackhole asks, "What was that?" Will gets up and walks toward him, saying, "It's just that, when they asked me to check my gun, they explained it was because this is a quiet, peace-loving place. So why do I have to hear about your stock portfolios, let alone your colon crisis?" Jackhole: "You had to check your gun? Who are you?" Helen: "Here, honey -- chai tea. Never mind him." Will gets up and walks back to Helen, saying, "That's right, never mind me." I see a stained glass window now that makes me think this is a converted church and not a mill, although it's not a very churchy window. Jackhole insists he has a right to talk, and says that maybe Will's free to lie around, but some people have to work for a living. Will: "Oh, I don't work for a living?" Jackhole tells Roscoe there's some "girly man" who's giving him grief. Will turns to his wife, saying, "Helen," in that tone of voice that asks, "You couldn't blame me if I clocked this guy." She holds out his tea with a pleading expression. Jackhole encourages Will to have a seat.
Joan and Luke enter a liquor store. Luke: "This is a bad idea." Joan: "We're having a party, dude. You can't have a party without beverages." Luke reminds her that they're underage. Joan makes a sound of exasperation, saying, "Like this whole thing was my idea?" Luke wonders whose idea it was, if not hers, but she just tells him to go to the snack section: "Leave this to me." She approaches the counter, where the cigarette-smoking clerk has been eyeing them since they came in: "Hi. I need a keg. Or two." The clerk looks bored. Joan: "You sell those, right?" He nods. She elaborates: "It's for an office party...at the place where I work...with people my age." Yes, very convincing. She reconsiders and adds, "Older people. Um, so how much for a keg, and do you deliver?" Actually, it looks to me like there's a sign right behind his head listing the prices for full and half kegs, in addition to the $80 deposit required. Not that she ever stood a chance anyway -- I could pass for sixteen about as much as Joan can for twenty-three -- but phoning ahead to do a little research and gather a little intelligence is always a good idea. The clerk asks for some ID. Joan laughs and says, "Come on. I'm twenty-three." The clerk just stares her down. She offers, "I'll pay you in cash." That goes nowhere, so she tries, "There's something in it for you?" He says, "Fraud and bribery. Not bad for a sixteen-year-old." Joan's comment, once the realization dawns on her: "God smokes?" Liquor Store God replies, "I don't inhale." Hee! He wants to know why she thinks she needs beer for a party. She glances around for Luke, but he's nowhere to be seen. She starts weakly, "The kids at school..." Liquor Store God insists, "Six-packs of soda and a big ice bucket, family-size bags of Doritos and Funyuns, a stereo that works. You're done." (Sars, when he mentioned Funyuns, I thought of you, because I'd never heard of them before you mentioned them somewhere. I don't think we have those in Canada. (Now everybody from Prince George to L'Anse aux Meadows is going to write and tell me otherwise. ["I can't say I've seen a Funyun north of the border, but I can't say I was really looking, either. Besides, y'all don't need Funyuns. You have all-clad chips." -- Sars])