"The dead only want one thing, Bobby," Druse explains. Is it something about Stegman? "To go into the light," Bobby knows by rote. Druse explains that they half to figure out why some spirits won't leave the land of the living. But the old dude wakes up all lucid just then, knowing who Druse and Bobby are. He explains that he feels one day he's going to go to sleep and wake up dead. Druse tells him he's got a long time left on this earth, which opens the door (which, hopefully, Stegman will not be standing behind) to this rambling, senile, fork-over-your-navy-blue-blazer-because-you're-off-the-debate-team filibuster: "He used to leave. Had other business, I guess. But now he's always right behind me." Bobby asks who is right behind him. I'll say it's that crusty old Dean, Stegman! "The Emperor of Ice Cream!" Who, even with an assumedly fun job filled with caramel moats, a castle made of sugar cones, and flavoring his namesake's sugary confections with The Royal Sprinkles, must be thirty-one flavors of bored right now too.
Over in Peter "Boy, you read my thoughts! You've got the Shinning! Don't you mean Shining? Shhh! You wanna get sued?" Rickman's room, a new name has been added under the "patients" section under Rickman's name, to add a "David Hooman" to the guest list. Inside Room 426, Peter's dutiful wife Natalie "Waaaaay Outside The Actor's Studio" Rickman sits by the bed and taunts, "Peter, wake up, dammit. You were awake before. Where are you now?" Peter voices over, "I'm right here, Nat," but she does not hear, because even his internal monologue is being drowned out by Fountains of Wayne. Soon to enter is Dr. "His Career Weekends At Bernie's" Hook, who incurs the immediate, whining, wifely wrath of Bad-alie, who screams, "What happened? What, where? He was here! He was responsive!" Hook looks down and puts a hand on the back of his own head in a remarkable simulation of distant doctoral sympathy, and rasps, "He said your name, Mrs. Rickman. It may not be the same thing." Bad-alie sits down near the foot of the bed and utters those simple words that mean, "Please, good sirrah, won't you explain to me the plot?" And here they are: "I don't understand what you mean." Hook goes on to explain that Rickman might be able to hear everything they're saying, and she asks, "Why doesn't he open his eyes?" Because then he might have to talk to you. Peter, meanwhile, voices over, "They are open." They are not open. Hook goes on to say he's never seen anyone wake up as quickly as Rickman did. But according to tests, his spinal cord isn't all screwed up. And he's having normal brain wave rhythms. Hook's fly is unzipped. Bad-alie takes notice of it just as Rickman voices over, "Your fly's unzipped." And then, "Who gave you a license to sell hot dogs, Sonny Jim?" Oh, god. The only thing worse than a coma is a salty, homespun, New England-y coma. Hook and Bad-alie continue the serve-and-volley dialogue by which Hook says something technical ("He's still got some bacterial hot spots"), Bad-alie repeats the last word of the jumbo ("Hot spots?"), Hook explicates ("The gall bladder"), and I go, "Huh?" ("Huh?") Even that doesn't really make any sense. "Red underwear," Rickman tells us somewhat incredulously from the great voice-over beyond. Oh, can it, Sonny Jim. There's no need to cop an attitude just because underwear is the only red thing Fountains of Wayne never wrote a song about.