Episode Report Card 127 USERS: C+ YOU GRADE IT "Shiver Me Bitches!"
By Demian | Season 7 | Episode 4 | Aired on 2004.10.03
...a shot of one of the city's many hills, with the Bay Bridge looming far in the background. Actually, they've used this establishing shot over and over and over again, and if someone would be kind enough to provide me with the name of the street, I'd be eternally grateful. Anyway, once we've established that we are indeed still in San Francisco, the camera cuts to an overhead of a slim brunette exiting what I'm guessing is her little storefront and locking the door behind her. Of course, Slim's not exiting onto the brightly lit and well populated sidewalk, but rather into the dank, forbidding alleyway at the back of the shop, because stupidity is endemic on this program. Slim pockets her keys and begins the trek to, um, her razor scooter, or something, when she suddenly hears a disembodied someone whistling a vaguely familiar and jaunty tune. Well, it would be jaunty were we not echoing through a dank, forbidding alleyway, which almost always has the effect of making any whistled snatch of music sound psychotic and stalkerish. Slim freezes and warily pivots to scan the alleyway behind her. A gust of dry-ice "fog" billows around the far corner and rolls towards her as the disembodied whistling continues. The shot cuts to reveal a matching wave of dry-ice "fog" advancing upon Slim from the opposite direction. Slim tightens her ankle-length knit wrap around her body and makes to push herself out of the frame, but freezes again when the whistling is replaced by the sound of someone taking deliberate, heavy steps through the mist. "Hello?" she asks, for it is incumbent upon every damsel in distress to greet her murderer politely before the screaming begins. Seriously, couldn't they every once in a while bellow, "WHO THE FUCK IS FOLLOWING ME? You wanna piece of this, huh? HUH?! Well, come and TRY to fucking get it, FUCKKNOB. 'Cause I will GUT YOU like a FISH!" It does seem a little more appropriate to the situation, don't you think? No matter. The whistling kicks back in by way of response, so Slim quickens her pace to flee. The fog, which had been swirling about at knee level, rears up to fill the alleyway. The sound of shattering glass tinkles in the near distance. Slim gasps a bit and darts through encroaching mist to vanish as her tuneful, as-yet-unseen, broken-bottle-wielding murderer paces slowly behind her.