Episode Report Card Gustave: B+ | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Guess Who's Coming To Breakfast?
By Gustave | Season 1 | Episode 8 | Aired on 01.14.2002
Gaines goes back to the KieferKonsole and directs Kiefer to a bus station, where Kiefer rolls down his window to receive a briefcase from an UndercoverTerrorMinion who is waiting there for him, wearing a black t-shirt with black trousers and looking like a bellboy at some Ian Schrager-designed hotel or an off-duty counterperson at Dean & Deluca. "Don't touch the briefcase until I tell you to!" says Phlegm Lord. It's time for Kiefer to make his way over to the breakfast, but Kiefer refuses to move until he is reassured that Spawn and Bride are alive and well. Gaines escorts Bride to the KieferKonsole microphone. "Say anything you want," says Gaines menacingly. "Tell him you love him!" Bride manages to tell Kiefer that she's not hurt, but that she hasn't seen Kimberly yet, before Gaines muffles her and removes her from the KieferKonsole. Kiefer leaves for the breakfast. The ShadowTerrorTaurus follows. Gaines assures Bride with no charisma whatsoever that she'll be free in an hour if Kiefer does what he's told. Bride asks to be taken to her daughter, and the two attending TerrorMinions strong-arm her out the door, causing her to start whimpering again. It's 7:08:37 AM.
Gaines goes over to his keyboard and calls up his email. I don't know what kind of filtering software Gaines has, but there is no spam in his inbox. He doesn't even get the inevitable "enlarge your penis" or "teen babes who love big cocks" porn spam that no one male, female, young, old, straight or gay seems to be able to shake. This one time when Sars was in a Socratic mood over drinks, she asked me, "Are there any teen babes out there who don't love big cocks?" "Yes," I responded after a thoughtful silence. "Lesbian teen babes." Sars was all, "Man, I totally forgot all about the lesbian teen babes who use to send us email every day, right after the bubble burst on the dot-com industry!" "They were sweet girls," I said mournfully, signaling the waiter for another round and taking a little time to reflect on all lovely young things who enter our lives week after week, asking only for credit card numbers and a shoulder to cry on. ["Lesbian teen babes…always the first victims in a recession. Sigh." -- Sars] Anyway, Gaines selects an email from Jalapeno and types in a series of commands that are meant to initiate a "network connection" to Jalapeno's "remote computer" at CTU. Uh oh! It's official. Jalapeno is the TerrorMole. And now that Jalapeno has shown her true colors, it seems that she is all about accentuating her chin for some reason. First the bangs, now the chin. She grabs a Palm Pilot from her seventh workstation since midnight and makes a beeline for the ladies' room, letting her chin -- which is growing more engorged with each passing second -- lead the way.