Hospital. Uncle Junior is enjoying a nice lunch of red Jell-O and orange juice when Tony comes by to pay a visit. Mmm, Jell-O. Junior happily reports that Tommy Formicola was there earlier, and Tony is concerned because Tommy Formicola has been dead for years. "Not Tommy, you chedrool," replies Junior. "The son Tommy." Heh. Tony is relieved, and reminds Junior about how confused he was the previous day, and how he also flunked his "Holstein" test. "I'm glad you're feeling better," he adds. "This place is like Xanadu compared to that courtroom," says Junior. "I'm milking this thing for all it's worth." You can actually see the little gears turning in Tony's head for a moment, and then he replies, "Maybe you're not milking it enough," before reaching for the phone. Junior gripes about the exorbitant long distance charges, and that's before he even realizes that Tony is calling Ireland. Of course, considering that the whole point of the call in the first place was to afford Tony the opportunity to dramatically announce, "I think we got a mistrial," I'd say he's got every right to be upset.
In a yard we've never seen, two kids we've never seen are playing a game based on a book I've never read. The game apparently involves one kid shooting an arrow into the air while the other runs underneath it and tries catch it with a cardboard box. That may very well be the stupidest game I've ever seen, so it stands to reason that at least one of these of rug monkeys is related to Joey Pants. And look, there he is -- settling into The Bathtub Of Foreshadowing for a nice, relaxing afternoon of foot-scrubbing. Suddenly the maid begins frantically pounding on the door, which moves me to ask a very strange question: Am I the only person on the entire planet who hears "foot-scrubbing" and "Hispanic maids" and instantly thinks of the late-seventies classic Goldie Hawn/Chevy Chase vehicle Seems Like Old Times? I am, aren't I? It's a good movie, though. You should check it out. Anyway, Joey pulls on a robe and rushes out into the yard, where he finds his son lying bleeding on the ground with an arrow protruding from his shoulder. I told you it was a stupid game. After examining the boy for moment and noting the blood that is literally gushing from the wound, Joey dashes back inside to call for help. After the Julius Caesar opening, I'd be remiss if I didn't at least ask whether 'tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or take arms against an annoying co-worker, and by opposing, end him.