A Cry For Help

Tuneful guitars jingle-jangle-jingle. Lights up on the CamPound. Eric bolts through the kitchen and dashes up the back stairs. Annie, with two golden blond Borg attached to her hands, follows more slowly. She says to her robot brood that she thought she heard Daddy. Didn't SamVid also hear Daddy? Where could Daddy be? You know, that is a really fucked-up question to pose at 8 PM on a Monday night, right before Thanksgiving. There have to be people sitting at home struck right now, just wondering: Where's my daddy? Why did he leave me? Oh, damn you, 7th Heaven! Damn you for opening up this river of pain inside me! I'm just saying. SamVid, who are hulking youths with the language skills of Big Ten fifth-year second-stringers, pose a theory: Perhaps Daddy is hiding? One Borg says, "Hide and seek. Hide and seek." It sounds like, "One of us, one of us." Annie makes it clear that they can play later; right now, the thing is to find their daddy. Another important Camden lesson in how Your Needs Don't Matter Much, Kids. Or, It's About Everyone Else But You, So Deal With It On Your Own Time, Okay? Moving like a bartender facing a pack of snapping, non-tipping patrons at an open bar, Annie and the twins snail towards the stairs. Quick like a bunny, Eric pops in through the other kitchen door and says he was looking for Annie. Annie says she was looking for him. Is anyone else getting that the writers were really, really light on content and plot this week and thought of some "cute," "fun" timewasters to bulk up the episode, like when you put a lot of milk and water in your beaten eggs while making omelets? Well, those omelets taste like crap. As does this episode thus far. Upon seeing their sperm donor (I'm guessing), SamVid say yay, it's their turn, and command that the tall ones in the room count to twenty before coming to look for them. They shamble off, dressed in identical Osh Kosh overalls, going to hide. I bet right now that seeking is not something CamRents like to do.

With the twins out of their hair (finally!), Eric and Annie lean in for a little chat. Guess what, says Eric. Good news! Annie asks if the good news is that Eric will be back at church. Oh, hell no. It's "good news!" Annie is all, when was working at the church "bad news"? Eric supposes that the day it went bad was the day that The Powers That Be (possibly the Lord) decided Eric couldn't do the job on his own and hired an associate pastor. "Yes, it was the day they hired Chandler." Um, but you had BYPASS SURGERY. The church can't shut down because you were ill. Oh, what am I saying. If a Camden gets a hangnail, the whole fucking world should mourn. A twin pops his head back in the kitchen and notes that his parents "aren't counting!" No, they're ignoring you. Just like the rest of the time. Aren't you used to it yet? Eric turns his head partially and counts until the kid disappears. Wow, is that magic? Am I watching Buffy? Can I learn to do that the time I have to take a plane somewhere? Once freed of their youngest child, part the first, Eric says he has a job. He got a job. Ooh, is it hustling down by the docks? For a whooole nickel? Or sending out spam emails about where to find the WORLD'S BIGGEST C-O-C-K-S? That's a good job, isn't it? Isn't it? Sadly, no. He'll be a DJ at KRHL 109.9. Annie parrots, "KRHL 109.9," as if her husband were speaking Ebonics. It's the college radio station. He'll be playing music! "No worries. No life-and-death situations." They were so desperate that they hired him on the spot, and he starts today! So say a little prayer for him? Cool. This sounds a little too much like Ally McBeal -- you know, how they always were hired last minute and the trial was TOMORROW. As if. He dashes off, and Annie stands in the kitchen, still as a statue, still ignoring her youngest children as they wait for her to "find" them. Keep waiting, kids.

Credits. Seeeaa-venth heaven! When I see their happy faces, smilin' back at me...Seeeaa-venth heaven! Where can you gooo! When the world don't treat you right? The answer is hoooome! Mmmm! Seeeaa-venth heaven! Woof!

Upstairs, Eric obsessively tries on shirts, looking for the one in the dullest shade of gray. You know, he's finding the shirt that reads best on radio. The shirt with the most vibrational qualities. Or maybe the least. I'm sure he was hired, then got all excited and dashed home to find his lucky shirt, then realized that nothing lucky ever happened to him and just decided to try them all on. Annie comes upstairs, looking stormy. Eric, an idiot, turns to her and asks her what she thinks. She says that's "a loaded question if [she] ever heard one." What a bizarre thing to say; is it such a loaded question because she rarely thinks? Or because she too often shares her thoughts on matters when her input may not be required? Either way, she lets him have it. A month ago, her husband was a minister. Now, he's a DJ. She speaks the line we saw all week on the ads, that she "married a minister, not a DJ!" It's called flexibility, Annie. Learn some. Try by first unclenching your buttocks. Annie pleads, "Give me my husband back!" Eric says he meant what did she think about the shirt. She says the shirt is fine, but she's "not so sure about the man who's wearing it." I'll give you a hint: he's an idiot.

Deep inside the most unfinished of rooms, a uniformed Kevin grills Lucy. Lucy casually applies blush (gilding the ugliest lily still won't help) and says "no," because she "doesn't feel like it." "It" being hanging out in the pool hall with Roxanne and her pals. Jesus, Kevin, get some other friends. Kevin is infuriated that Lucy doesn't want to hang out with Roxanne, and still doesn't know why Lucy doesn't want to spend more time with his hot partner. Lucy says she doesn't want to explain herself for the millionth time, and splits to go to the library. Wow, is Lucy growing a spine? An eeny weenie ittle bittle spiney-winey? Aww, it's so cute!

Lucy stomps downstairs and is intercepted by Annie, who wants a word. Kevin brushes by the two women brusquely. Annie is all, what's the problem? I'd say Kevin is the problem. He's imposing, unreasonable, inflexible, and a jerk. And a bit of a fascist. And run over by the ugly car, which then backed up and ran over him again, rendering him pug-fugly beyond repair. Pull the plug on the T-1000, Lucy. You're ugly as well, but that doesn't mean you can't find love again. Is there a school for the blind nearby? Maybe start hanging out there. Be sure to find the blind man who is also impervious to your personality. Lucy says the problem is and always has been Roxanne. Lucy asks, "outside of Charlie's Angels," has her mom ever seen such a hot lady cop? Why couldn't Kevin be partnered with an overweight lady with bad skin? Because beauty is only skin deep. And the Camdens, while generally svelte, are shallow dish city. Annie says she doesn't know, and did Lucy help her dad get a job at the college radio station? Yes, she did! And it'll all work out to a good end, she swears. Lucy thinks this job will "help him get back in the spirit of things, so to speak." What? The so-called spirit? Anyway, Lucy has to go. But oh, how's Robbie? Down with his mother in Florida, Annie reports. She's "better now that he's with her." What? Robbie's mom? Lucy squinches up her wizened face and asks when he'll be coming back. Sometime after Christmas, says Annie. And his teachers let him take his finals early. What an undignified way to be written off the show. It's not even a C-plot. It's not even filler. It's just so bare and hollow and false. So very SevHev.

Kitchen. Ruthie sprays way too much Pledge on the table and lightly wipes it. Rub, woman. Put your bony back into it. Use some scrawny elbow grease. Annie pops in and asks Ruthie to watch the boys, as she has to run some errands. And ooh, it's her first day off restriction. Any plans? Ruthie says, "Baby-sitting." Annie says, "Jake?" Annie? Quit pimping out your twelve-year-old daughter. Get her a hobby that isn't domestic chores or boy-centric. Jake, apparently, "called every day" while Ruthie was on restriction. Didn't it sink into that little boy-slut's head that Ruthie wasn't allowed to use the phone? What a dumbass. That's not all Jake did, says Ruthie. When he wasn't calling, he was "following [Ruthie] around at school, getting [their] lunches switched so [they] could sit together, carrying [her] backpack. Once he even offered to carry [her] gum. [Her] gum!" I used to work at a rock club here in Philly, and I saw Juliana Hatfield offer her ABC gum to the crowd. Someone took it. That is gross. Ruthie concludes by saying that she never wants to see Jake again. Annie cocks her head and says nothing. Creepy.

College radio never looked so bland. Usher walks with Eric and shows him, well, hardly anything. They walk and talk as Usher explains that Eric will be taking calls. Eric looks unhappy with the idea of "taking requests." Wow, he's even a selfish DJ. Usher says it's not requests; it's talk radio. "Didn't Lucy tell [Eric]?" You know, people calling in, talking about their problems. Never mind the fact that there are millions of kinds of call-in shows -- sports, entertainment, sex. Eric has to get the incredibly vague catch-all of "problems." Eric looks positively sneery at the idea, and says it's "too close to [his] old job." What a dick! And I love how Lucy gets all the credit for this job in absentia. Do we ever see these kids in class or DOING anything besides flapping their gums and being unsatisfied? Usher is all, "Um, look, I'm in a jam. Please. The holidays are coming up. Lots of kids want to just talk about what to do over their break. It won't be anything as serious or heavy as what you were dealing with." He also says that if Eric doesn't like it, he can plan a show that's "less talk, more music." Ah, yet another incredibly vague and generic term: Music. What the hell would Eric play? Boz Scaggs? Raffi? Wank on his guitar? Eric very reluctantly agrees, and Usher says he'll "set" Eric "up." Eric is all, "Interesting choice of words." Okay, dick, you're fired.

Ben is unpacking. Happy sits motionless on the bed, and Simon, head in his hands (perhaps weighted down by his enormous eyebrows), listens to Ben's Sad Sad Story: his woman in Buffalo (or was it a lady buffalo?) cut him loose, and even him mom has hotter and sexier Thanksgiving plans than he. Ben says his "love life is pathetic!" Simon says, "Yeah." Ben does a double take at that. Well, isn't it? Simon suggests that Ben accompany him and Cecilia to Club Minor, a club for men like Simon between the ages of fourteen and twenty, i.e. an underage dance club with no booze, just like the name implies. Otherwise known as Pedophile Heaven, or Snoozeville. Ben makes a rank face as if Happy just cut one, and says since he's twenty-three, he'll "pass." Simon browbeats him. And that's quite a heavy beating, if you get my meaning. His eyebrows make the Gallagher brothers' brows look slim. Simon says that "plenty of older girls hang out there desperate to meet guys." Ben is intrigued with the idea of "desperate," but still declines. Oh, and where would a "good-looking guy" like Ben meet a woman? Yeah, ask Simon. He'd know. Not. Simon suggests the Promenade. What about the pool hall? At least there you can get foofy drinks. Simon also wishes Ben luck. Ben says that luck is not a factor. Simon says, "Luck is a huge factor." I'd also say alcohol would be a huge factor. Did I already mention the foofy drinks at Eddie's? Get there and start buying.