Anyway, time for the menfolk to run off and do manly things, and we segue over to a new locale, Chez du Happy's Mom. Happy is outside tearing strips off Miles and Kozik for not cleaning up their pancake-related mess. Sure, the guys have guns to move, but Happy's aunt is no man's maid and he is here on this earth to enforce that truth. Just as Kozik closes the truck, two young men toss over a basketball into the back yard. After a few taunts back and forth, Kozik is lured into a game of street ball ($10 a point), which is, in fact, a game of beat-up-the-idiot-white-guy. Guess who wins! Hint: Not the white guy. The boys drive off with Kozik's keys.

Over at SAMCRO's new rustic compound (formerly the Osborne spread), Clay and Jax walk into a barn where many other members of SAMCRO are busy building crates for all the guns. "Look at all my happy little elves!" Clay says, giving Bobby Elvis an especially pointed look. Bobby Elvis looks neither happy nor particularly elfin. These crates are ... well, they're basically the Leksvik line from IKEA, except made for holding guns. I don't see why these guys don't just drop the gun-running and start an artisanal furniture business, because they could make a killing soaking all the authenticity-craving yuppies coming from Stockton. I mean, have you seen what a handcrafted storage chest goes for? These guys lack vision. Anyway, Chibs got the specs from the Irish, then promptly decamped to the loo where he is, as Tig delicately phrases it, "fuckin' shit out." Juice adds, "Literally -- all that processed food." Chibs comes out, looking wan, and blames his digestive travails on bad Mexican food. Bobby Elvis wanders by and chides, "Chasing burritos with Jack and James probably didn't help." Chibs ignores him and asks, "Juicey, you're going to hit me up, yeah?" Juice grins, "Green tea and a mint colonic? A little herbal infusion --" "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop," Tig begs, looking as if he's just been threatened with an outing to an American Girl store. I just love how Juice apparently spent all his time in prison contemplating herbal remedies. Jax thinks about his family's future, Clay brokers business deals, Juice reads a little Michael Pollan and Mark Bittman and takes it to a weird place.

Anyway, Clay's all, "I did not become president of an MC so I could learn about your colons, guys. I'm off to the Wahewa. Bobby Elvis, you're with me. Tig, let me stoke your insecurity so it flares up at the least opportune moment in a future episode. And ... scene."