Stamford. Jim rules out another possible Herr's retailer, and Karen's like, "We tried, we failed, moving on." Jim sadly says he never pegged Karen as a quitter. Andy turns around to ask what the game is and say he wants in, but Jim tells him they're just looking for chips for Karen. Andy asks whether they checked the vending machine, and Karen kind of meanly cracks that they never thought of that. Andy asks, then, whether they checked her butt. You know, it usually is the last place you look.
Scranton. Michael's now brooding in the bullpen, leaning on a pillar by Phyllis's and Stanley's desks, musing about how much blood there must have been. Phyllis and Stanley implore him to shut it. Michael tells Stanley that there's something wrong with him, and raises his voice to bitch that there's something wrong with everyone in the office because they don't want to mourn Ed enough. Michael then interviews that there are five stages of grief, and steals a peek at his monitor as he lists them: "Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance." He states that the staffers are denying their sadness, which is making them angry, and that it's his job to get them through to acceptance -- or, failing that, just to depression: "If I can get them depressed, then I'll have done my job." I would guess that this job was already done for Michael with at least half his staff as soon as they got to work this morning.
After commercials, Michael's gathered everyone in the conference room. He has an expanding and contracting plastic office-toy ball things (...you know?), and says that he's going to toss it around; when you catch it, you have to name a person you know who died, and talk about how it made you feel. He offers to start, saying that he lost Ed: "And it feels like somebody took my heart and dropped it into a bucket of boiling tears, and at the same time, somebody else is hitting my soul in the crotch with a frozen sledgehammer. And then a third guy walks in and starts punching me in the grief bone. And I'm crying, and nobody can hear me, because I am terribly, terribly, terribly alone." And the grief bone is connected to...which bone, again? Before anyone can really react to this horrifying glimpse at Michael's psyche, Roy appears in the doorway to pull Pam away, saying there's something wrong with her car. At her desk, Roy confesses that her car is fine, but that he thought she might want a break from all the grief counselling. It will not surprise you to learn that a break is exactly what she'd like.