Oh wait, Brenda’s got another Noguchi lamp in her living room. This one is the bigger one. I believe it’s the Akari Freeform Column Floor Lamp. I was thinking of buying one earlier this year when I got my tax refund. I thought it would be perfect for those lazy summer days spent in my living room looking at art photos of hookers with my bipolar, emotionally incestuous brother. Apparently Brenda and I share a brain, because there she is après shower in her robe, checking out Billy’s hookerography. "This chick has seen the worst that life has to offer!" says Billy about one of his subjects. "Billy," says Brenda. "These are incredible!" Billy points out a tumor on the subject’s neck. "You just know there is some freak for whom that is a big turn-on!" adds Billy. 'Cause now that he photographed a hooker with a zoom lens, he knows enough about the seedy underbelly of the streets to explain these deviations to Brenda. "I love the Bank of America in the background!" gushes Brenda. Yes -- ironic, isn’t it, that hookers have checking accounts and ATM access just like anyone else who works for a living and earns money. Nate enters and tells Brenda he has to go to work. Billy makes a crack about bringing out the dead. Nate ignores him and kisses Brenda goodbye, reminding her to cancel her Saturday appointments. Why do I get the feeling that this trip isn’t going to go as planned? Billy asks Brenda what she’s doing Saturday. Brenda lies and claims that they’ve got a date to go buy cacti. And yes, Brenda would have to go buy a phallic plant, wouldn’t she?
Back home, Nate walks in and calls out for David. Surprise, surprise -- David’s with a customer, and Nate doesn’t realize that they're not alone, so he makes an inappropriate remark about a car accident he just witnessed that might provide business for Fisher & Sons. David’s always with a customer when something tasteless is said. Just like Brenda and Nate are always having sex when someone walks in on them. David’s visitor turns out to be the bald hotheaded older brother of the corpse of the week. Nate recognizes him from high school, because apparently he was a big wrestling star. He saves the day by bonding with him about the good old days when Kovitch was a young jock who got laid all the time. Only I’ll bet he didn’t have as much public sex as Nate is having now. Kovitch makes a bitter crack about the prices of coffins. David tries to smooth things over, but Kovitch tells him to shove it. "I buried my parents, and no offense, but I hate you guys and I hate what you do." Oh, I sense a job for Dr. Fisher Feelgood. Gee, do you think this broken man will develop a perspective on life thanks to the Fisher boys before the hour is up? And do you think this will relate somehow to David’s struggle to come out of the closet? The suspense is killing me! Anyway, Kovitch wants a simple cremation and no service. He’ll drive the ashes up to where his mother is buried and let them blow away. Nate looks over David’s shoulder and sees (somehow) that Private Young Bottom was in the military and is entitled to some death benefits. Kovitch nixes that idea. Private Young Bottom hated the army. Barely choking back the tears, Kovitch exposits the circumstances of PYB’s death. He was stationed in the Iraqi desert, and there were all these chemicals. When he came back home, he developed lung cancer at the age of 29. "Still, no one will say the words ‘Gulf War Syndrome,’" says Kovitch, while Dave and Nate do the ordained "look down thoughtfully." "So fuck the army!" says Kovitch. "Let them keep their benefits!" He leaves to go tend to his father, who has Alzheimer’s. On his way out, David makes sure he doesn’t want a proper coffin. "A paper sack will do just fine," says Kovitch, exiting.