Laurie's on the phone at Gwen's house, reminding the newspaper to mention that the service is a private affair for friends and family only. Why talk to the press at all then? Gwen wants to go over to the funeral home for a viewing of the corpse. Laurie's got twenty calls to make and will try to go over tomorrow. The phone rings, and it's the bishop guy from the wedding episode. He'll be performing the service on the following day. Jack suddenly appears, unannounced, at the back door. He didn't want to ring the doorbell, but his silver Hawaiian shirt is so loud that I'm sure they heard him coming. Gwen and Jack exchange pleasantries and then they hug.
Heather's asleep in the murder bed. Peter kicks the bed, waking her from her drug-induced nap. "What're you doing?" Heather demands. "Get out!" He's come to apologize, because he has some bad news. "Yes, Richard died, Peter. What could be worse than that?" Sheesh, how many pills has she been popping? He gloats over the outdated will. She's sure that Richard made some provision. Uh-uh, Peter checked. No mention of her or either one of her breasts at all. "That's fine," Heather yawns. "I'll just contest the will." If she does, then Peter will contest the marriage, using the videotape of her and Chandler grinding in the elevator as proof. Peter's confident that an annulment is a given. Heather doesn't seem perturbed. Peter must have some sort of plan. He does, indeed, and pulls out a cashier's check for $1 million. It's all hers if she leaves town without a trace. Peter's extremely satisfied with himself, to the point where he's giggling. He sets the check on the bedside table while Heather considers the deal. He bids her good night and shuts the door behind himself. She picks up a conveniently nearby crystal pitcher and flings it at the closed door.
It's the funeral. Jack removes his shades to deliver his eulogy: "If a man's character is defined by his offspring, then Richard truly was a great man." The writers had to be laughing their asses off when they wrote that line. Richard's character would have been better defined by the band Offspring. Chandler does his best not to cry. As the others are all holding back tears, Laurie asks David where Jenny is. He doesn't know. He dropped by to pick her up, but she was gone. So you came to her father's funeral by yourself. Not a smart move -- a funeral's worth about six normal dates. Didn't you get Seinfeld in Australia? Okay, shhhh -- Chandler's talking. His father instilled in him love of country, respect for her people and her institutions, and most importantly, honor. He hopes to live up to his father's image. The bishop asks for any other contestants for open-mic night. Peter, ever the spotlight hog, gets up. He wants to talk about Richard's sense of humor, all of his stories, his ability to open himself up...yawn...snore. Is he done yet? Now it's Peter's turn to break down and sob. Jenny suddenly appears wearing a sequined mourning dress, and she's very tipsy to boot. She's mumbling about running out of time. Might she be referring to the series? After Laurie gets a handle on Jenny, the bishop hands Heather a shovel, and it appears that she's going to break ground on a new wing of the hospital. Nope. She's just scooping dirt onto Richard's coffin. What kind of grisly funeral tradition is this? Why not just pull up in a backhoe?