A semi-mummified Fey is being pampered in some mysterious way when the phone next to her rings. "Why are you calling me from the office?" she demands. Marc and Amanda slam down their phones in a panic. And when they ring again, because Fey lives in a century where caller ID exists, both of them rush out of there like the place is on fire. Good thing they cleaned up beforehand.
Wil and Nico are just finishing up their dinner. Wil's in such a good mood by now that she decides to take Fey's call at the table. "Why did you just hang up on me?" Fey asks. Wil denies any such thing. "Someone did," Fey says. "And they were calling from your office." Well, if Marc and Amanda used personal access cards to get into the building, this shouldn't be a difficult mystery for her to solve.
Betty arrives at the nearly abandoned club. For once it wasn't Daniel calling her, but an extravagantly faux-hawked bartender calling on Daniel's behalf. "He was ordering scotch rocks for a while, but when he started ordering 'crotch socks,' I figured I'd call someone." Namely, the most frequently dialed number on Daniel's phone. Betty thanks him and goes over to her drunken boss. "I didn't tell her what she wanted to hear, Betty," Daniel confesses blearily. "It wasn't a very good Thanksgiving." Betty understates that hers wasn't so good either, and shepherds him out of there. She's bothering why? Dude's got a driver, for Christ's sake.
But neither of them is having a worse Thanksgiving than Mysterious Leatherman, because Fey's crypt isn't empty anymore. "Let me out of here!" ML bellows to no one, as the camera whimsically phases right through the crypt lid and back out while "Season of the Witch" plays. Whimsically. What a wacky live burial. And on that whimsical note, the screen reads, "Happy Thanksgiving From All of Us at Ugly Betty." It's just like a greeting card, right down to the graveyard imagery in the background.