Junior's Joint. Bobby shows up to make his daily delivery of oat bran, Metamucil, and stool softeners, and then sadly reveals that the seven-year-old son of his dry cleaner was recently killed in a tragic hot tub accident. You can actually see the light bulb going off over Junior's head when he hears this, but that's mostly just because his dome seems particularly shiny today. As soon as Bobby is out the door, Junior is back on the phone to Mel, who had been enjoying a nice, relaxing slice of pizza in his office. Mel reminds Junior yet again that he's only allowed out for the funerals of close relatives, so here's Junior's justification for attending this one: "It is a relative, goddammit. My old man came over with this kid's great-great grandfather. The guy had a club foot...The whole fucking village of Avelino settled in this area. We gotta be related somewhere down the line." "Corrado..." starts Mel. "'Corrado,' my balls!" yells Junior. "I gotta get out of this house! I'm going fucking stir-crazy!" Hee hee. I not a big Junior fan, but I do love me some Chianese. Sorry about that album crack, my friend.
The next morning, Tim is still playing in the Executive game. So is Wide Guy, for that matter, but all the Random Dudes have been replaced with new Random Dudes. The shark-jumpers in the audience will likely be quick to notice that one of those new guys bears a disturbing resemblance to Henry Winkler. I'm just saying. We also learn that it's not even the next morning, but actually the morning after that. So that's, what? Like, forty hours straight? Don't these people have jobs? Families? Noses? I don't even want to think about what forty hours in a room with Wide Guy might be like. And while we're at it, how did Wide Guy get so Wide if he never leaves the table to eat? Oh, wait. There's like a googol of room-service trays in the background. Hmm. I wonder what everyone else ate? Anyway, Tim goes all in with his last few chips, and loses again to Wide Guy, who picked up a flush on the river card. They were modern enough to play on the newfound popularity of Texas Hold 'Em, and yet they still think Dylan McDermott is on The Practice? What's up with that? ["Maybe the joke is that Random Dude #1 is so out of the loop that he doesn't know who's still on The Practice? Hey, check me -- I'm fanwanking!" -- Wing Chun] Christopher discreetly checks in with Larry, and learns that Timbo is down $57,000 to the house. He immediately yanks the guy out of the game (like, way to wait until ten seconds after he loses his last chip, moron), and demands to know how he's going to cover the debt. Tim tells him to relax, because once that Dick Wolf money starts flowing, $57,000 will be like one month's salary. "Well, what about this month?" asks Christopher. Tim actually takes that as an opportunity to ask Chris if he can borrow even more money, because he's also got child support to pay. Christopher offers to give him $3,000 for "incidentals," which makes the total an even $60,000. And once the vig is added in, Tim owes $1,200 a week, starting one week from today. "Don't give me that look," snarls Christopher. "This is your fucking problem. I will not enable you." That one gets a "Hee!" for delivery, and a bonus "Heh!" for the irony.