Episode Report Card Erin: A | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Doctor, Doctor, Gimme The News!
By Erin | Season 2 | Episode 6 | Aired on 11.09.2002
Okay. That's it. Syd's had enough. "No, you're not. I think you loved Mom so much that when she left you, you lost your soul. You know what else I think? I think the kind of man who'd use his own daughter to frame her mother, who'd test psych experiments on her when she was six years old, is the kind of man who looks at his daughter and sees his greatest mistake." "You can't honestly believe that," he says calmly. "It's true, isn't it?" she says, tears for once not springing to her eyes. "If Mom hadn't fooled you, if you hadn't been so gullible, I never would have been born." Syd dismisses her father by returning to her review of her mission. Spy Daddy takes his dismissal with his normal stoic expression and leaves. Unfortunately, they're fifty thousand feet in the air, so unless he plans on strapping on a parachute and sucking portions of the ozone, he's gonna have to return to his saved Tetris game and pretend like he and Syd are traveling on two different planes.
Parking Garage Roof Of Unlikely Heterosexual Bonding Friendships. Will's chillin' on the hood of his jeep when Vaughn screeches up in his Men In Black Tommy Lee Jones Special. They shake hands and Will's all, thanks fer comin', dude. Vaughn's all, no problemo. What up and shit? What, so now Will has special permission to call up Vaughn, like, whenever the hell he feels like it? When did this happen? What's next, beers and brats in the back room of Yakzie's? Trying to pick up the waitresses while various sports programs blare in the background? Jagermeister shots with watered-down Bud chasers? What is going ON here? Actually, Willy Boy needs a job. With all the publicity surrounding his drug thang, he's SOL for a paying position out there in today's job market. Amen, brother. I hear your pain and I raise you sixteen more weeks of unemployment while several ad agencies shove their thumbs up their asses and wonder why oh WHY aren't there talented writers out there who will work for crack money? THEY'RE RIGHT OVER HERE IN RAVENSWOOD DRINKING THEIR WAY THROUGH A BOTTLE OF THUNDERBIRD, YOU MORONS! Now get on the stick and hire me already!
Ahem. Anyway, Will's all, look, I'm not asking to be an agent or anything; I just need a job. I'm willing to work a desk job or something, okay? You hearing me on this, First Lieutenant Forehead Crease? Vaughn's all, I hear ya, dude, but unfortunately, we can't employ you 'cuz you have a criminal record. Will's all, uh, YEAH, and I have that criminal record because of a drug habit I never had, which came courtesy of the CI-fuckin'-A. Vaughn looks incredibly apologetic, but offers no reasonable solution. Will kind of laughs and looks around, wondering why he bothered to call this ineffectual piece of shit in the first place. "Know anyone who wants to buy a car?" Will laughingly asks. Even though the purchase of a car has absolutely nothing to do with that whole KGB IQ test thing that Vaughn was yammering on to Devlin about, for some reason, Will's comment makes Vaughn very clearly THINK about that KGB IQ test, and he whips the Russian question list out of his pocket. "There might be something," he says. "I have a discretionary fund I use for informants. Totally off the books. I could pay you to do research." Even though this makes Will wonder if Vaughn's going to pay him to check in on Syd and make sure she's not banging the local chapter of the Hell's Angels, Vaughn's offer of off-the-books moola still elicits mounds and heaps of gratitude from Will.