Fade to white/Overnight. Now it's stuck in your head, isn't it?
Pan up on Rico, tangled in the luxurious sheets of the Irvine Center Quality Inn, which are made marginally less luxurious by the fact that Illeana's sitting in a chair in her underwear and waking him up by tossing Fritos at his head. "Breakfast in bed," she cracks. Rico pops one in his mouth. "Mmm, good," he says. Now Illeana's free to jump up and crawl back on top of him, saying, "This way we'll both be farting." Ooh, seductive.
Nate's getting ready to go to work for the day, and Brenda has a big favor to ask: "Come home for dinner." She says she's going to cook. He says he'll try, but that if he's late, the girls should grab something and he'll eat at Ruth's. Brenda says they'll wait for him. Nate: "Is this some big occasion I forgot about?" Brenda says she just wants them all to have dinner together. "I'll do my best," Nate promises, and kisses Brenda goodbye. He's even nice enough not to ask her to make something besides gray lettuce.
George is in pensive mode on the sofa with his elbow on his lap and one thumb-knuckle in his mouth. Ruth barely spares him a glance as she goes by with a basket of laundry. When she gets to the machine, she finds something odd in a pair of his pants: the remains of a cheese sandwich and an apple core. The show does one of its rare music cues as Ruth investigates further and finds some gray-green lumps in a sweater pocket. Out in the living room, George is still sitting there and looking like he's trying to calculate pi in is head. He flashes back to fifty-one years and two days ago -- or maybe fifty-one years to the day, which would be quite a bit worse -- and we see Little George trying to wake up his mom but succeeding only in dumping her lifeless body out of its chair and onto the kitchen floor. I think it would be funny if Mom's rigor-mortised hand dragged Little George down out of the frame, but they're probably not going for funny here. He snaps out of it when he realizes Ruth is standing there holding old food in each hand. "Why are they in your pockets?" she asks him. "I...wasn't hungry," he stutters. "I didn't want to hurt your feelings." "So you hid the food in your clothes?" Ruth asks, confused. George says he was saving it for later. Ruth looks sad, and George apologizes. "It's all right," Ruth says, "but I don't want you to wear rotting food." Jeez, bossy much? "Do I need to check the closets?" George says he'll do it, and Ruth agrees. "I'm very sorry," George reiterates sincerely. Ruth says it's nothing, because she can't not be passive-aggressive even when she's being apologized to. And she takes George's four-day old lunch and two-day-old dinner into the kitchen and flushes them down the garbage disposal. She bends over and rests her head on the counter. Aw, poor Ruth.