Roger Bender is just waking up from a dream. It was about going out with the Wisemans for their anniversary dinner. His wife, whose face is obscured in shadow, starts bitching him out for waking her up. "What are you TALKING about? You know Michael's GONE. What do you MEAN, their NEXT anniversary?" Oh, she's so not nice. Yeah, Bender says, weird because their anniversary is just like three weeks from now. Um, you remember that? Bender's wife (with her face still obscured) says to IGNORE the upcoming anniversary because there is no marriage anymore. "Trust me, it's what Lisa wants." Bender looks doubtful and lies back down.
In another bedroom, Lisa pops up, sighing. Maybe she had the same dream! Some moody music starts playing. Cut to Heather's bedroom, where her mom is watching her sleep. Yuck! Heather wakes up and is like, are you okay mom? Yeah, she just had a bad dream. Then Mom starts babbling about going away up the coast, to stay in motels and eat fried food. Um, yeah, sounds like every teenage girl's dream. Heather murmurs about missing band and soccer and the school play. Mom gets pouty and fiddles with a lampshade. Heather makes a suggestion about continuing the conversation in the morning and Mom goes, "What, you have a PROBLEM with your MOTHER standing in your bedroom watching you SLEEP?" Uh, yeah, it's weird! But Heather is cooler than I am, because she throws the covers back and says, "Get in or get going." Mom leaps in and snuggles down. Heather sighs, then they both giggle. Who's mothering whom here?
Back at the lab, Dr. M. is peeling off a bandage to reveal A.G.'s perfectly good, smooth skin, revealed in the now ubiquitous tank top. "Damn I'm good," he murmurs. "Tell me how you really feel about yourself, Doc," cracks A.G. Forgive me for not actually slapping my knee. Then A.G. goes off about he's got some sense of dread and is worried about disappointing someone. Dr. M. reminds him that A.G. is in fact his bitch now, and the only person A.G. should be worried about is Dr. M. Insert whipping noise here. Then Dr. M. tells A.G. to hurry up so that they can make it to the weather lab 1 AM, and A.G. is like, why, what happens at one o'clock?
Inside the weather lab, A.G. is finishing a series of one thousand reps on a rowing machine. The little room is bathed in orange light because it's 137° in there! I think my apartment gets that hot in the summertime. A.G. finishes rowing to nowhere and starts -- guess what? Complaining. He's hot. "I feel like a leg of lamb. No wait, I always feel like a leg of lamb." Don't you mean a piece of meat? Outside the heated room, Dr. M. is miming a conversation, ignoring A.G.'s whining. Then, at 1 AM on the dot, the doorbell starts buzzing angrily. Dr. M. straightens his tie and cruises over to the door. On the other side stand the gaggle of white-coated geeks.