Establishing shots of Max in LA, driving a pretty dandy 1970s Chevy convertible. His cell rings; it's Liz. Max talks, drives, looks at his map, doing none of them well; drivers begin to yell, and he tells Liz that LA is "friendly." As friendly as any place is when you're driving like an idiot, pretty boy. Turns out Liz has a "theory" about how to track down the shape-shifter, which I guess she developed while lurking around the nursing home and getting old news from Grampy. She thinks that, because the dead shape-shifter always went back to the same form (a dumpy bald man), maybe shape-shifters can only change temporarily -- that they always have to go back to the same form. Good work, Nancy Drew. Max is impressed and asks Liz if she can direct him to the Hollywood Cemetery, since she's been to LA and all, but she obviously wasn't paying attention during her visit.
Evidently, Max finds the place, because in the next scene he's walking toward a funeral, the front row of which seems populated entirely by drag queens -- and the floozy from Joey's hot rod. Guess it's Joey's funeral. Max looks very Jump Street in his black motorcycle jacket. A dumpy bald guy (!!!) claps Max on the shoulder and asks who he is -- could this be the other shape-shifter, a powerful alien race doomed to look like puddingy middle-aged men when they walk on Planet Earth? "Friend or family?" asks the guy. "Cousin," says Max. Baldy tells Max, who looks around at the Mafioso types mourning Joey's passing, that Joey never mentioned a cousin, and that he and Joey were very close. No secrets. And now this new family? Bada bing. Max claims distant cousinry, and then the bald guy moves in for the kill, asking, "Do you have representation?" Oh. Wow. This guy is an agent. Joey was a client. Oh, this is funny. It's HOLLYWOOD. Julius Walters, talent agent (and character actor from about 5,000 other things that I can't currently recall), hands Max a card and kindly points out the phone number, just in case Max mistakenly tried him at the fax number, which is the only other information on the card. What, no email? JayDub is one Classy Guy.
Back in Roswell, Liz and Kyle are hard at work on their shocking expose of nursing home atrocities. Liz, using the refrigerator-camera, films Kyle expressing outrage at the exorbitant cost of Grampy's care at the Sunrise Retirement Facility -- $1,200 a month for room, board, and medical attention. Guess things are cheaper in Roswell, as $1,200 don't go too far in my neck of the woods. In walks Daddy Valenti, guitar case in hand. Kyle gets all pissy because he walked right into the shot, and now they'll have to reshoot the whole four seconds, DAMMIT. Mr. Valenti goes to the fridge for a beer as Kyle asks how his gig went. His dad enthuses that "the Kitshickers are really coming together." Okay, first of all, it's the middle of the afternoon. Exactly what sort of gig was this? And secondly, I'm really upset, because Kyle's dad stole the name of my band. I worked really hard to come up with something that witty, and I don't appreciate having the rug ripped out from underneath me. Jerk.