At Dead Joe's apartment building, Emerson is ranting on the pathetic nature of people who pay other people to be their friends. Ned takes offense. "Why are they pathetic, because they're alone?" Emerson shrugs it off, but Ned goes on, saying sometimes people have to hire tennis coaches to help them with their backhand, and that Emerson, in fact, has no idea how to make a rhubarb custard pie, but seems to have no problem paying Ned to make them for him. Sometimes, his point is, people need some extra help and will pay for it. "You've had a best friend since birth," he concludes, making Emerson feel guilty just when he's trying to trip Joe's lock. "Not all of us have been that lucky."

Emerson is, at first, less than moved. "Yeah, well," he says, "don't be too jealous of my luck. Only one sorry leaf hangin' off that clover!" Really, he's sad about the secrets he's keeping from his mother. He's says he's technically not lied to her, but he also hasn't told her about having a daughter. Ned rightly mentions that most people would consider that splitting hairs. Emerson says he's probably mostly embarrassed that his ex conned him out of a relationship with his kid. "But you know what?" he says, suddenly resolved. "I'm chuckin' my chagrin overboard. I'm lettin' loose the truth!" Yep, he goes on as he picks the lock to Dead Joe's aparetment, as soon as they are done here, he's going to find his mom, sit her down, and look her right in the... AAAAIIEEEEE! Emerson and Ned are shocked when the door opens, and right at eye level is, well, there's no other way to say it, an eye. On a stick. Held by none other than David Arquette, who plays the dead guy's roommate.

"Whatsa matter?" he asks. "Cat got your eye?" Awesome. He apologizes, saying the eye was for a sculpture he's working on in the back room, and introduces himself as the unfortunately named Randy Mann. "I got some knee-slappers about that," he says, elbowing Ned. "You wanna hear?" They don't, though Ned immediately feels a kinship with poor Randy, who misses his roommate. "You share your life with someone," Ned says, "and suddenly there's an abyss where someone always was there before." Randy is traumatized by Ned's tale of the loss of his roommate-slash-girlfriend. "Your roommate-slash-girlfriend died?" he asks. Ned: "Yeah. I mean, no! She moved out." Randy notices, though, that Ned's not completely alone, and picks a golden retriever hair off Ned's sweater with tweezers. "It would be a source of comfort," Ned rages (in his way) if my golden retriever didn't prefer living with my girlfriend, her new bestie, and THEIR PIG." Aw, Ned. The poor man! Thrown over for a pig. Let's keep it real, though -- that pig is cute.