Episode Report Card Gustave: B+ | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Rock on, Bride of Kiefer!
By Gustave | Season 1 | Episode 7 | Aired on 01.07.2002
Meanwhile, in NotYork's Sedan of Deception, Bride of Kiefer fakes being nauseous -- or maybe she truly is nauseous with all that she's learned in the last episode…I mean, "hour." NotYork urges her to take some deep breaths, but Bride insists he stop the car so she can puke by the side of the road. Reluctantly, he stops the car to let her out. She runs down into the canyon. NotYork checks his messages and hears Gaines's warning. He takes the keys out of the ignition and runs into the canyon in search of Bride. He calls her name a few times, and then she sneaks up behind him and beans him with a rock. Go Bride! They struggle for the car keys, but York manages to throw them further into the canyon. Finally, Bride manages to knock NotYork unconscious, but she's stuck in the middle of nowhere with no ride back. The time is 6:13:02 AM.
The time is 6:17:08 AM. Klockwise from the top left, Spawn ponders her inkarceration, Kiefer stares out from the glass walls of his office, Bride ties up NotYork, and Nina sits at her desk plotting her next office romance. I don't know where, but Bride must have foraged through the woods and found a ton of rope and a couple of extension cords. She uses them to tie NotYork to a tree. Dude, next time I'm on a scavenger hunt, I want Bride on my team. When she runs back to the car to retrieve her cell phone, she finds that her phone isn't getting any service from her current location. Like, it's about time someone had a problem with their cell phone. I can't believe that among a dozen characters within a seven-hour period, only one of them has had their cell phone spazz out on them so far. How likely is that? I mean, if I were Kiefer, when Gaines called me at the hospital on my cell, I'd just pretend I couldn't hear him. "What? You're going to kill my what? Could you send me a brochure in the mail? I have got to switch my cell account!" We've all done this to someone we've wanted to avoid, right? Hell, I've done it on a landline.
TerrorKompound. Rick approaches Gaines at the KieferKonsole, tells him that EFB #2 is buried, and asks him when he can leave. Gaines is all evasive about payment and tells Rick to stay put. "I've got a couple more things for you to do," says Gaines. "Then we can talk about when you can go." I just gotta say a couple of things here. As a freelancer, I am always having to deal with clients like Gaines, and it bugs the living crap out of me. They're really vague about everything, but when you actually invoice them for the hours you spent flipping through InStyle in their reception area because they wanted you to stick around "just in case," all of a sudden they've got an Excel Spreadsheet detailing the number of bathroom breaks you took in September of 1997. Sure, I wasn't actually working during every single hour that I billed you for, but my time is valuable, and if you're not paying for it, then I should be free to go work for someone else who will. Not to mention that all of your salaried employees have been doing nothing but going out for coffee and emailing each other porn all day. Another thing? Gaines needs to get a secretary or an assistant or something. I mean, if this is a multi-million-dollar terrorist organization and he's supposed to be watching Kiefer on the KieferKonsole and making sure he doesn't look too hard at kops or pass notes to his ko-workers, that's got to require his undivided attention, right? How is he supposed to do his job effectively if anyone can just barge in to his office and ask him a question that really could be fielded by personnel or an office manager? Yeah, a lot of these boomer executives think they're too cool to have their own secretary because it's old-fashioned, hierarchical, and expensive. And they all give you this big line about how the company is one big casually dressed happy family and you can use his first name and knock on his office door anytime, but I can't tell you how many times I've done just that, only to find that I'm interrupting an important conference call or a blowjob from the director of operations. Then I have to stand there paralyzed for five minutes, apologizing like an idiot and making everything worse. It can be annoying at times to be glad-handed by a third party, but it's so much more preferable to walking in on a Tin Lizzy air guitar solo or a speakerphone consultation with a proctologist. Rick and Gaines stare at each other really hard. Rick finally exits. Gaines goes back to the KieferKonsole with a shit-eating "I just fucked with my underling's head" grin on his face.