Back in the present, Matt's alone in his office again -- where'd Andy go? Maybe he's not real either (SPOILER, asshole! God!) -- and surreptitiously takes a prescription bottle out of his pocket and downs a few pills. Matt's on the junk! Those of you who had "Episode 15" in the "Drug addiction of any kind" pool can collect your winnings at the door. (Those of you in the "Crack and 'Shrooms" pool will have to be patient a little longer.) Matt's shifty eyes are so troubling that we fade to the credits without the jaunty horn section we've come to recognize.

When we return, we're still in 2007, and Harriet is thanking the rehearsal audience for being such good boys and girls, and as we cut back to Matt's office, Harriet explains how, once the rehearsal is done, Cal and Danny head to Matt's office, where they prune the sketches for time and quality considerations during what's known as "The Friday Night Slaughter." That heretofore unheard term knocks Matt straight back into 1999 again...

...where things are still handheld and unstable and crowded, kind of like when The Amazing Race goes to India. The writers' room is PACKED, though it's still only lit by, like, six fireflies in a jar, so I'm surprised people aren't just slamming full-speed into each other right now. Youthful Matt in his youthful backwards hat pulls a scruffy-yet-delicious Luke Scott aside and asks him if he's heard about Tim. Luke doesn't get to answer because he's cut off by the screaming "SHUT UP!" of Stephen Tobolowsky, who I guess was the head writer back in the day. Once he's gotten everyone's attention, Tobolowsky welcomes everyone back for the "first day of school." In the guise of running down the top lampoonable stories of the day, Tobolowsky opens up the time capsule marked "1999" and begins removing its contents. We get the Presidential primaries, Heidi Fleiss getting out of jail, Phillip Morris admitting that cigarettes can kill you (this draws derisive laughter from the writers, who I guess were know-it-all liberal bitches even before Matt took over), and an American winning the Tour De France, which draws big whoops and applause. Really? Applause? We were that desperate to stick it to France, even back then? Tobolowsky says that Wes will be coming in momentarily to give his "pep talk," though he's a big fat liar, because Wes doesn't show up at all. I wonder if this was one of those instances where Sorkin couldn't get the script in on time and they lost out on Judd Hirsch, but my train of thought is interrupted by a youthful and beaming Harriet Hayes, who even back in 1999 figured she could stop an entire room full of dudes in their tracks just by showing up. She certainly stops Matt, who takes a break from furiously scribbling notes ("Gilbert & Sullivan cigarette parody? Look into it") to gawk at her. Tobolowsky tells her not to be late ever again. She looks chastened, and Matt tries to get her attention and mouth something to her, but Tobolowsky (who's trying to tell us that Jennifer Love Hewitt will be hosting with 'N Sync as the musical guest, like, you say it's 1999? Because I didn't catch it at the first dozen cultural signposts) catches him. He tells Matt that if he learns how to pay attention, he stands an excellent shot at going another year without getting a sketch on the air. "HA HA HA!" say the writers. Matt would be traumatized by everyone laughing at his failure, but he's just too smitten by Harriet to care.