The nursing home, bedecked for Halloween, is all robes, slippers, shuffling seniors, and samba-on-Valium background music. Liz lifts the mainframe camera to her shoulder and begins filming, and things go all digital (insert catty comment about technological disparity here), as she wonders about "locked up" stories that might be good for class. "True stories of love and loss and pain," she adds, thrusting the camera into the faces of annoyed elders. Suddenly, she spies Grampy, who has indeed made quite a mess; he's sitting on a bed, catatonic, with a week's worth of plates scattered around him and something that looks like meringue dolloped on his shirt and pants. Liz starts cleaning up while Kyle, now saddled with the camera, suddenly decides that they've got the perfect story for class, about the horrible conditions that elderly are forced to endure. Yeah, because that's news. Overcome with pity, Liz wonders if Grampy is usually like this, which Kyle says he is as he zooms in on a wall calendar with September 24, 2000, circled heavily in red. Liz gets all up in Grampy's face and starts chattering at him; she spies a massive tome about UFOs on the floor and asks if Grampy would like to be read to, since that's what her grandfather liked. She starts reading about spaceships streaking across the Texas sky when Grampy suddenly grabs her arm, jolting out of his catatonia, and drones, like what he's saying is all ominous and spooky, "They are among us. They are among us." No -- really? Where has he been?