Nate joins David and his old high-school buddy, Sam the Corpse of the Week, down in the Body Shop. David's gushing about the new, less toxic chemicals he's using so that he can live to see his grandkids. Who won't be at all freaked out by their Grandpa Death, I'm sure. Sam looks to be in pretty good shape for a guy who had an SUV drive over his face. I'd tell him to check his tire pressure if he weren't already dead. But then we can see the stitches from the closed Y-incision, so Rico must have already worked his restorative magic. Nate tells David who he's looking at. Once David remembers Sam and gets over his initial surprise, his first reaction is, "Wow, he got fat." Okay, the dude's not that fat. David confesses his former crush on Sam: "He was always so nice to me and he had such great shoulders. He was run over?" Nate says Sam ran over himself. "How do you do that?" asks David. "I have no idea," admits Nate. David gets a call from the adoption agency on his cell phone, and leaves the room for the conversation. Which of course cues Nate's visit with the Corpse of the Week. A high-school version of Sam appears next to Nate, accompanied by the oh-so-dated strains of the Pretenders' "Back on the Chain Gang." Sam beholds his older, heavier self with disbelief. "What a lard-ass. I guess I ate too much pussy, huh?" he cracks. Dude is not that fat! Nate mocks Sam for his youthful obsession with his six-pack, and Sam turns it around: "You swore you'd never become a fucking funeral director, and look at you now." Nate says at least he doesn't need a golf cart to get around. Dude! Is not! That! Fat! Okay, he's got a bit of middle-aged spread, which happens. In my case, it happened when I was twenty-two. Nate and High School Sam talk trash about the girls they slept with back in the day, and Sam asks, "You remember feeling like there was nothing in the world you couldn't get away with? And that it would always be that way." Wow, High School Sam is deep. Nate remembers, silently, and then he's alone again with just the dead Sam, because High School Sam is out of there like a pigeon from Hell.
It's another joyful meal with George and Ruth. He asks whether she made a vegetable, and she martyrs that the spinach lasagna she's putting on the table should cover that. George says he's only asking because sometimes she forgets about something in the oven until they've almost finished eating. "I guess I must have Alzheimer's," she sighs sarcastically. George says her quirks are endearing. And also that the food is delicious. He asks what's in it, and she complains, "Do you want me to list all the ingredients?" "Not if you don't want to," George says pleasantly, but he was just wondering about the spice. Ruth gets up, goes to the spice rack, and hands George a little bottle. He marvels for about ten minutes at the wonder of "Italian seasoning" and the smorgasbord of spices therein, while Ruth remains stubbornly immune to his cheery attitude. George tries lightening the mood with a joke: "You know what you call an Italian hooker? A pasta-tute." Ruth goes all schoolmarm. "I guess it's not that funny," George admits, and is immediately rocked back in his chair when Ruth stands up, screaming, "You're goddamn right it's not funny! None of this is funny. You tricked me into marrying you. You knew you were crazy and didn't tell me and now I have to take care of you for the rest of my life! What did I do to FUCKING DESERVE THIS?!" But then we realize she's only screaming in her head, as we see in the next cut that she's still sitting there pouting silently. "You can really taste the rosemary," George says obliviously. Rosemary goes great with passive aggression.