Reader mail-bag:
1. "Tableau," not "tableaux." Got it. I'd blame Sars for not catching that, but you wouldn't believe all the stuff she does catch, so I think it's best to not incur the wrath of the Grammarian Goddess.
2. Best e-mail of the week? This link.
3. Best spam headline of the week? "No More Premature Ejaculat"
4. Forty-seven.
We open with Brother Justin seated in the burnt-out ruins of Saint Chin's of the Holy Immolation, where he delivers an ominous voice-over that consists of a few judicious phrases from taken Revelations 18. "And he cried out with a mighty voice," he cries out with a mighty voice, "saying, 'Fallen! Fallen, is Babylon the great." Hmm. Fallen into a mine, perhaps? "And the Kings of the Earth, who committed acts of immorality and lived sensuously with her, will weep and lament when they see the smoke of her burning." Uh-oh. Has Aragorn been a naughty boy again? As we fade from Brother Justin to a shot of the carnie trucks heading down a dirt road, Justin himself fades from the beginning of the chapter to the end, without so much as a verbal ellipsis to speed us on our way. "Woe, woe, the great city of Babylon," he intones. "For in one hour your judgment has come." Well, actually, it was more like forty-seven minutes. But I'm guessing Brother Justin has never heard of syndication rights.
The trucks continue on down the road, where they run into John Hannah, otherwise known as the cutest little Scotsman in all of Texas. "This the road to Babylon?" asks Samson, despite the fact that even Lila already knows that it is. "Aye," replies John Hannah. "It's just over yonder past the wee little warp core. Turn left at Loch Ness and ye can't miss it." He's laying the accent on pretty thick here, primarily so that we can all get a good laugh when he cocks his eyebrow in response to Samson asking if he's from around here. Mr. Hannah claims to have been born and bred right there in Babylon, and then asks a stupid question of his own by wondering if they're "the carnival" when he's standing six inches away from the giant "Carnivàle" on the side of the truck. We also establish that he's planning on leaving town, but not before he gets the chance to deliver some vaguely creepy dialogue, so as to better set the proper atmosphere for this episode. You know what would have made this scene better? If he'd been carrying one of those bandana-pouches on the end of a stick. Hobos are always funny.
The trucks keep driving, and we get a lengthy wagon train sort of montage, which includes shots of the Cooch girls flirting with John Hannah as they pass, and a pack of dogs running alongside the last truck in line. Eventually they stop somewhere in the middle of nowhere, and everyone piles out to stretch their legs. "What the hell are we doing here?" wonders Random Roustie #3.. "Ma says Babylon is cursed," adds Meatloaf's Daughter. Oh, she does, does she? Remember that one later. There's much groaning and belly-aching among the ranks, led primarily by Gordon Gayko, who doesn't seem anywhere near as happy as you'd expect about finding a nice open stretch of desert where he can sun himself on a rock. The lone voice of reason here is Adrienne Barbeau, and if you've seen many of her movies, you know that's probably not a good sign. Samson doesn't care about their gripes, however, and just orders everyone to get to work. It's obvious that he's just as creeped out as the rest of them, though, because he totally fails to use the "Let's shake some dust" catchphrase he's been perfecting recently. By the way, am I the only one who thinks it's odd that Samson wears lifts?
Rather than do any work of his own, our fearless carnie leader instead returns to his trailer. He stomps back to the curtained-off area in the rear, and engages in the following conversation:
Samson: What are we doing here?
Management: I don't know. Talking to ourselves? Fighting an epic battle between good and evil? Intentionally confusing people for fun and profit? It could be anything at this point.
Samson: You gotta give me something to tell them.
Management: Heh. Chris Albrecht demanded the exact same thing. If I didn't tell him, I sure as hell ain't gonna tell you.
Samson: Dammit!
Notice, by the way, how Samson's dialogue is cleverly constructed to make it completely ambiguous as to whether or not he's actually hearing any replies. That too may be important later.
Outside, the work continues. And at a surprisingly rapid pace, considering that in the thirty seconds Samson spent talking to Management they've already managed to erect the carousel, six tents, and half the Ferris wheel. I need these guys to come over and help me move that new sofa. Gayko desperately begs Jonesy to talk Samson out of playing Babylon, but Jonesy learned his lesson on that one last week, and instead just spits a lot. Heh. Tim DeKay really seems to enjoy the spitting. When Gayko leaves, Random Roustie #3.wonders what "she" wanted, which makes me wonder if they maybe ran into Bill Parcells down there in Texas somewhere. Mr. Grumpy π then reveals that he and few others are planning on quitting after the show, which prompts Jonesy to observe that it would be a damn shame to lose a couple of "quibberdicks" like them. Hee! "Quibberdick." I'm totally using that in my conversations at work week. My day job is downright quibberdiculous. Ben, incidentally, must be feeling a little quibberdicky himself, because he suddenly puts down his sledgehammer for no good reason, and ignores Jonesy's call to get back to work as he stomps over to Lodz's trailer.
Inside, he finds Lodz lying in bed, shaking as though he's having some sort of seizure. After they trade a few olfactory insults, Ben pulls up a chair and makes himself at home. "I think I got something figured out," he announces, looking smug. "All by yourself?" wonders Lodz, looking even smugger. "Congratulations." Heh. Ben finally notices the shaking, and asks Lodz if he's suffering from "the clanks." Hmm. A Google search on "the clanks" turns up absolutely no references to any kind of disease, and a strangely high number of links to sites about Billy Joel. Yeah. I don't understand it, either. Whatever the "clanks" are, they do appear to be absinthe-related, because Ben goes on to say that Lodz is out of that "poodle-piss" he loves so much. The hell? Didn't he have like eighteen bottles last week? Hell, I even complimented the show on how subtly they were used to advance the plot. Although now that I think about it, if they actually were advancing the plot, that would have put them a lot closer to the black hole, so I probably shouldn't be surprised that they've vanished. Still smirking like the proverbial Cheshire cat that's been killed, brought back to life, and fed several canaries slathered in catnip and tuna fish, Ben offers once again to reveal whatever it is that he's figured out. Lodz makes a conscious effort to stop his shaking, and then sits up in bed and remains perfectly still as he focuses his white-on-white eyes in Ben's direction and declares that he's "all ears." "You don't know half as much as you pretend to," whispers Ben. Oy. That's what he figured out? What a fucking moron. "You have an infallible -- if tiresome -- gift for stating the obvious," observes Lodz. Yeah, yeah. I know. I get that a lot. Huh? What's that? You were talking to Ben? Oh. My bad.
They're interrupted at this point by Adrienne Barbeau, who comes in to say that Jonesy is pissed at Ben and he needs to get back to work. Only she uses lots of fancy Carnie lingo like "pulling a Houdini" to do it. Ben gets up to leave, which forces him to pass awkwardly close to Ms. Barbeau in the cramped confines of the trailer. Neither one seems to mind very much. Will that be important later? Who knows? Actually, to be perfectly honest, I know, but I'm not gonna tell you. Once Ben is gone, Adrienne asks Lodz how he's feeling. "Like I'm dying," is the answer. Remember that one when he goes hiking in a few minutes. She offers to fluff his pillow for him, but then reaches down and grabs it right out from under his head. "Listen, you old bastard," she snarls, "I don't know what you're doing, but I don’t like it. You mess with that boy again and I will tear your pecker off like a piece of French bread! Don't believe me? Just ask Ernest Borgnine." Lodz, like most people faced with the mental image of Ernest Borgnine's disembodied penis, just starts shuddering and collapses into peals of uncontrollable laughter.
In another trailer nearby, Sofie and Mommatose are having a little talk.
Sofie: Fine! Then I'm carnival trash!
Mommatose: Oh, please. Stop being so dramatic. I didn't say "carnival trash." I said "Bartles Cherry Smash." I just want a damn wine cooler. Is that so wrong? And whatever happened to those Bartles & Jaymes boys anyway? They seemed like such nice fellas.
Sofie: Yeah well, nice fellas don't come to places like this looking for girls to marry, mother.
Mommatose: I didn't say you should get married, I just said…oy, never mind. Just get my damn drink, would you? And no Zima this time. That shit goes right through me and you'll just have to clean the bedpan again.
Sofie: You know what? I liked it.
Mommatose: Yeah. I know. That's what worries me. Did you make Pompadour Boy do the golden shower thing?
Sofie: I liked the way he held me! I liked the way he looked at me!
Mommatose: But not the way he pissed on you?
Sofie: You're wrong!
Mommatose: Damn. All right, fine. You win. He's a great pisser.
Sofie: He was mine. He gave himself to me.
Mommatose: In a specimen cup, no doubt.
Sofie: And he didn't knock me up.
Mommatose: Oh, my sweet, darling, naïve little daughter. I know we've never had the telepathic sex talk and all, but you don't really think you can get pregnant just from a guy urinating, do you? I mean, you do know there's a couple extra steps involved, right?
Sofie: That only happens in dime novels.
Mommatose: And also fan-fic, but that's a different story.
Sofie steps out of the trailer and into the bright sunlight, and then consoles herself by watching the even more fucked-up family dynamic of the Cooches, who are practicing a new dance routine across the way. It seems Dora Mae has failed to inherit her (real-life) father's stage presence, because she keeps screwing up and dancing on the wrong foot. "Jeez!" she shouts in response to her mother's criticism. "All they're gonna want see is my titties. They don't care about no fancy dance steps." Oh, Dora. That kind of attitude is never going to get you an audition with Silvio. Ma Cooch tells her to "show some pride" and be more like her sister, which given the context is again either really creepy or really sexy. I'm still not quite sure where I fall in that particular spectrum. True story: I had a dream this week where Amanda Aday replaced Liv Tyler in that one Aerosmith video, and then her and Alicia Silverstone came over to my apartment, put on their Catholic schoolgirl uniforms, and proceeded to berate me for using "tableaux" instead of "tableau" in last week's recap. Creepy? Sexy? Indicative of deep-seated psychological trauma? You be the judge.
The family fight breaks up, with all the Cooches going their separate ways, and Sofie comes over to sit down beside Libby. Carla Gallo, by the way, looks quite fetching in black leather hot-pants and a bra that's three sizes too big. Now that's definitely sexy. But is it creepy that I think so? They share a cigarette (flick…ahh), and then Sofie tentatively asks, "How does a person know when she's pregnant?" I don't know. Maybe when your comatose telekinetic mother says you are? Isn't that how EPT does it? Libby is surprised to hear that Sofie is sexually active, and Sofie just gives a little smile to show how proud she is of having had unsatisfying sex on the floor of a married man's diner while her mother almost choked to death in the middle of a blinding sandstorm. But hey, we've all been there, right? "Did the guy wear anything?" asks Libby. "He kept his socks on," answers Sofie. Oh, all right. Heh. But there's no way she's really that stupid. Libby clarifies that she was talking about a condom (although she calls it a "skin"), and Sofie isn't sure if Pompadour Boy wore one or not. "Well, you're probably not pregnant," explains Libby. "You can't get pregnant your first time." Oy. And you thought Sofie was the dumb one. The girls giggle a bit at the naughty topic of their conversation, and then totally fail to start making out, which also happened in a dream I had this week.
Elsewhere, Ben is shaving. In a rearview mirror. With a straight razor. No wonder he looks like crap all time. Without seeing who's speaking, we suddenly hear someone say, "One of my titties is a whole lot bigger than the other." I amuse myself for a moment by imaging who it might have been that said it. Lila? Gayko? Avogadro's Roustie? Nope. It's Meatloaf's Daughter, and I do at least have to give her props for having a much better pick-up line that her sister's whole "gritty teeth" bit. I mean, come on. If a girl said that to me in a bar, there's no way I'm not going home with her. Insert your own "If a girl even said 'Hello' to him in a bar" joke here. Ben's reply? "Oh. Yeah, I hadn't noticed." Hee! I once dated a girl with the same condition in high school, and the infrastructure in her bras remains to this day one of the greatest marvels of engineering I've ever witnessed. Dora Mae saunters on over to Ben, and begins to exposit her backstory while she still has the chance. "I started dancing when I was thirteen," she tells him. "Not much to look at then. Not 'til I got my titties. Mama says they're a gift." And that they are. Then she leans in close, wipes some extraneous shaving cream from his face, and puckers up her lips after whispering, "I bet you're a real good kisser." Ben just walks away without saying (or kissing) anything, and Dora Mae smiles as she stares as his rapidly departing ass.
And speaking of rapidly departing asses, Jonesy is still giving Samson the silent treatment over last week's dust storm debacle. After some extensive prodding (which would have been cooler if Samson had used his walking stick to do some actual prodding), Jonesy finally explodes and says that neither the rousties nor the performers are happy about playing Babylon. "You got a bunch of rousties back there [numbers 63 through 186,000] who ain't been paid squat since Milfay," he adds. "String of bad luck," replies Samson. Um, excuse me? What happened to all the money they made off the revival? Did they blow it all on fresh eggs and bacon? Because that's still a better paycheck than I've gotten from a few jobs. "Tell you what," offers Samson. "Let's go into town tonight. Blow off a little steam. It's on me." Jonesy doesn't know whether to spit or get off the pot after hearing that one.
But he apparently makes up his mind eventually, because the shot is of the entire cast heading into town. Oh, yeah. That's smart. Let's get all dolled up and go get blindly drunk in the creepy, scary town where they hang carnies just to watch them dangle. Party! Woo! Everyone makes their way to the local saloon, where Samson is surprised to see John Hannah working the bar. "Looks like you never made it out of town," he says. "Never do," replies Barkeeper Willie. Everyone orders whiskey, and Jonesy asks for an entire bottle, which occasions a look of disgust from Samson.
Sofie and Libby, meanwhile, have decided to stroll the darkened streets of Babylon on their own. Oh, yeah. That's even smarter. Isn't Sofie the one who was just bitching about almost getting raped in every town they visit? The girls find an empty movie theatre, and decide to respond to the evident lack of Kill Bill showings by trespassing inside. Oh, yeah. That's smart. They find the snack counter, and Sofie immediately starts helping herself to a few candy bars. I'll just take a moment here to point out that they're Clark bars, which are manufactured just a few short miles from my apartment, and it is in fact historically accurate that they would have been available in 1934. I'll also mention that their former CEO is doing fifteen years for defrauding the bank I work for out of almost thirty million dollars. And that exhausts my supply of esoteric candy knowledge for the evening. Suddenly the theater owner appears, and catches Sofie just as she was about to pocket the candy bars. The girls recover nicely, and explain that they're "dancers" from the carnival who are just looking for a little fun. "Yeah?" asks the creepy projectionist. "You the kind that get naked?" Well, that is the best kind, after all. Libby flirts on over to him and lets him get a sneak preview by sticking his finger down the front of her dress. Sofie watches this admiringly, and takes advantage of his obvious distraction to finish stealing the candy. After Creepy Projectionist has gotten his ogling fill, Libby darts back over to the counter, and smiles coquettishly as Sofie cons the guy into playing a film for them. After explaining that all he's got is some "old silent," and delivering a highly Travolta-esque wink, Creepy Projectionist heads up to his booth to start the movie.
The girls, meanwhile, flounce on down to the front of the theater, where Libby finds a piano and starts playing. Damn. Is there anything this girl can't do? She strips! She flirts! She plays the Moonlight Sonata! She also encourages Sofie to try some dancing, and I'm highly gratified to report that Sofie may be the only person on Earth who dances worse than I do. The lights dim, and the movie starts, and several eagle-eyed forum posters have already pointed out that the film in question is D.W. Griffith's Intolerance, which deals with the fall of Babylon. Well, it just wouldn't be HBO if the film clips weren't subtextually relevant. Libby's already seen it, but Sofie is enraptured. "So, did you like it?" asks Libby. It takes Sofie a minute to realize what she's talking about, but then she describes the sex as merely "okay." Which I can assure you from my vast personal experience is not a compliment. Libby says that her first time hurt like hell as well, and then goes on to reveal that it was with some random gas station attendant (#69, no doubt) back when she was twelve years old. You know, I had a really great joke about that earlier in the week, but I didn't write it down and now it's slipped my mind. But just trust me. I'd have owed you a new keyboard. Creepy Projectionist watches them from his creepy projection booth, and the girls go back to watching the movie.
Over at the bar, the hootenanny is in full swing. Everyone is dancing and laughing except for Ben and Jonesy, who are drowning their various sorrows alone in separate corners. Meatloaf's Daughter heads over to the bar, where she engages in some surprisingly non-creepy banter with Barkeeper Willie. I'm only mentioning how non-creepy it was in case you think he may be responsible for what happens later. Adrienne asks Ben if he wants to dance, and like the smooth, sheep-loving stud that he is, he's completely unable to say even a single word in response. Sofie and Libby return at this point, and start dancing with each other out in the middle of the floor. It's all very wild, and rowdy, and steerage deck on the Titanic, if you know what I mean. And then we slowly pull back through one of the saloon's windows, and the creepy factor rises at an extreme exponential rate when we spot several of the local townspeople silently watching the cavorting carnies through the glass. If you've ever wondered what would happen if you crossed American Gothic with Rear Window, here's your answer.
Cut to later, with the party finally starting to wind down. Everyone is slow-dancing now, with Gayko looking especially cute waltzing with the twins in his white tux and fez. How wrong is it that I can totally picture him at a Shriner's convention, tooling around a Comfort Inn lobby in one of those tiny little cars? Sofie and Libby are also still dancing together, and Libby inspires a thousand slash-fics (several written by me) by telling her partner that she's got "a really pretty face." This peaks Jonesy's interest as well, and he slides drunkenly off his stool and wanders over to ask Sofie if she wants to dance. "I am dancing," she replies coldly, before turning so that her back is to him. Oooh! That was harsh. Especially with everyone else in the room doing their best to pretend not to notice.
Jonesy then does what all angry, rejected drunks do in this situation, which is head for the bathroom to take a nice, relaxing leak. Nothing soothes a broken heart like an empty bladder. Ben stumbles in and takes up a position at the far end of the trough, and weaves a bit on his feet as he struggles to get his overalls undone. "Can't hold your liquor?" teases Jonesy. "Go to hell," says Ben. Jonesy gives him an appraising look, and then glances down as if to check himself out in comparison. Heh. I bet they're regretting that little bit of blocking now. "Where do you think we are, farmboy?" he eventually responds. And then he immediately zips up and leaves the bathroom. Damn. I wish my kidneys had such good comic timing. And I really hope Nick Stahl is just acting in this scene, because if he actually is taking a piss, the boom mic guy just got a nasty splash when Ben turns around to watch Jonesy leave.
A few moments later, Ben stumbles his way back out of the bathroom, and walks along the side of the bar. The Cello of Impending Earth Subsidence plays on the soundtrack as we slowly fade to black.
Morning in Carnieland. Sofie wheels a chair-bound Mommatose down a gangplank she's installed on the side of the trailer.
Mommatose: Why are we doing this again?
Sofie: Because you can't stay cooped up inside all day, Ma. It stinks like a flophouse in there.
Mommatose: Hey! Do I judge your urinary obsessions? Hell, no! Well, okay, maybe I do sometimes, but if I want to play Dutch oven in the privacy of my own trailer, who are you to tell me I can't?
Libby: [passing by] You coming to breakfast? It'll be all ate up soon.
Mommatose: Oh, I just bet it will. Is there anything that girl WON'T put in her mouth?
Sofie: She's a nice girl, Mother. You don't even know her.
Mommatose: Yeah, whatever. See if you still feel that way after she invites you over to get drunk and listen to her Melissa Etheridge albums.
Sofie runs off, leaving Mommatose apparently stranded at the foot of the gangplank, and we pan over to the breakfast area, where pretty much everyone else has already gathered. There's quite a bit of cross-talk and fading back and forth in this scene, with Lila and Lodz discussing the assassination of the Austrian Chancellor, and Ma Cooch bitching at Pa Pimperson about the quality of music in their show. Those of you interested in obsessively dating every scene on the show will be pleased by the specificity of knowing that it's apparently July 26th, 1934 on this fine, sunny morning. Give or take a day or two, of course, owing to the relative unavailability of twenty-four hour satellite news services. Ma Cooch, meanwhile, is enraged that Pa Pimperson isn't taking her music suggestions seriously. After all, she was "Miss Canyon City." You'll have to insert your own cleavage joke here. My brain just overloaded with about six thousand. Ma storms away from the table after yelling that Pa should "kiss [her] ass," and those of you interested in obsessively analyzing continuity gaffes will be pleased to note that Dora Mae is standing beside her in this shot and then seated behind Pa on the far side of the tent in the very one. She's got mismatched titties, and she's fast! She's like my perfect dream girl.
Adrienne Barbeau makes her first appearance of the morning, and looks around the crowd a few times before asking if anyone has seen Ben. Aww. She's got a little crush. It's so cute. No one has seen him, however, although Samson seems to believe he's off "puking his guts out" somewhere. Lodz's spidey-sense tingles a bit when he hears that Ben is missing, and he immediately informs Lila that they have some work to do. Those two leave, and Pa Pimperson gives Samson a little nudge nudge wink wink to indicate that everyone knows they're getting it on. Lodz and Lila are getting it on, I mean, not Samson and Pa Pimperson. Because let's face it, the logistics on that particular pairing would fairly boggle the mind.
At the magical picnic table where Dora Mae can fade in and out at will, Libby is applying eye-shadow to Sofie while her sister sulks nearby. I should probably make a comment on the nice characterization of having Meatloaf's Daughter being jealous that her sister has made a new girlfriend, but every time I see someone applying eye shadow I immediately think of Randall "Tex" Cobb in Fletch Lives, and that's so not an image I want in my head right now. Libby also reveals that she's "fallen off the roof," which apparently means that she'll be unable to take her pants off for some reason during their show later tonight. The forum posters tell me that "fallen off the roof" is actually some sort of clever euphemism for menstruation, but I don't have a uterus, so I'm going to have to plead ignorance on this one. Dora Mae is fine with being the only one who goes the full monty, and claims that she gets better tips than her sister anyway. Then she leaves so that Libby and Sofie can further discuss the intricacies of period-appropriate feminine hygiene products in peace. Before Libby can ask her new pal if she's ever had that not so fresh feeling, however, Sofie turns her a bit as if listening to a distant voice. "I gotta go," she reports. "Ma is calling." Libby is shocked to hear that Mommatose is "in [Sofie's] head right now," and Sofie gives a little smile as she announces that Mommatose really doesn't like Libby. And then she leaves, and Libby is left alone to look sad because the freaky coma lady doesn't approve of her.
Lodz's trailer. Lila gives her boy a quick haircut, and then as soon as it's finished, she shoves her hand down his pants and grabs his crotch. How come I never get service like that at Supercuts? "It's been awhile," she purrs, as she leans in close to nuzzle his neck a bit. "I know, my dear," he answers. "And I'd like nothing more than to satisfy your needs, considerable though they may be. But duty calls." "What kind of duty?" she asks. "This isn't gonna be one of those freaky scat things Mommatose got you into, is it?" He assures her that it isn't, and then treats us to the best Hannibal Lecter line we've heard so far when he strokes her beard and growls, "Would you mind terribly lending me something? Your eyes. I need them for a recipe I've been working on." We don't get to hear her response, but the shot is of her leading him up a hillside and away from the carnival, so I guess she consented. Or maybe they just like to fuck outdoors. Fade to black.
Rather than fading back up, however, the screen stays black as we hear Ben yelling and sounding confused. He eventually manages to locate his Zippo, and he flicks it open to provide a small amount of light. Looking around frantically, he finally discovers that he's in some sort of an abandoned mine shaft. Rather than do the sensible thing, which would be to LOOK UP and see how he fell down there, he instead decides to wander around the maze-like collection of tunnels and corridors without leaving so much as a trail of bread crumbs behind him. Oh, yeah. That's smart. He wanders, and wanders, and then wanders some more. Then he comes across a much smaller tunnel, and starts crawling through it. He crawls, and crawls, and crawls some more, and when he finally gets to the end, he finds the passage blocked by a cave-in. That's when he really starts to panic. That's also when we cut away to an ambiguous shot of Lodz sitting alone on a rock in the woods, where he may or may not be able to hear Ben screaming for help.
It's nighttime again now, and Samson officially opens the carnival for business by turning on the lights at the front gate. Aww. They've even placed a special bale of hay there for him, just so he can reach it. Jonesy comes over to join him, and gripes about the fact that they don't seem to have any customers. "Give 'em time," advises Samson, which does seem to be a wise sentiment, given that they've only been open for about four seconds. "Sure, why not," answers Jonesy. "Management says they'll come, right?" Samson scores the line of the night by wondering, "What the hell kind of spider crawled up your ass?" but before Jonesy can tell us if it was black widow or a brown recluse, they both hear a horse whinnying in the distance. They look up to see the entire population of Babylon emerging from the fog like some sort of creepy redneck Medieval army. Seriously. They've got a horse-drawn trebuchet-like cart out in front, and everyone else is lined up in rows behind it. As the townspeople get closer to the gate, we see that every last one of them is male, dirty, dressed in gray overalls, and looking exactly like the illicit love child of Jeffrey Dahmer and Eileen Wuornos. It's the Carnival of The Damned, people.
Even Samson is taken aback by their appearance, as he strolls through the various tents so that we can check out the acts. He eventually ends up at the cooch tent, and we get a beautifully composed shot of Pa Pimperson introducing his two daughters as the banners behind them flap in the wind. The essence of his spiel seems to be that his daughters have nothing interesting going on above the neck or below the waist. Well, isn't that sweet? "But from Cherry Valley to the Grand Tetons," he adds, using his cane to helpfully point out exactly what he's euphemistically referring to, "all hell is gonna break loose!" The miners in the audience greet this pledge with utter silence, and while I stifle a quick giggle at that, Libby and Dora Mae hustle themselves offstage and into the tent.
The miners follow them inside so that the show can start, but Samson pulls Pa Pimperson aside and orders him not to stage a "blow-off" tonight. Pa protests, saying that they've got a full house, but Samson is insistent. "They keep their panties on," he demands. Pa eventually agrees, but he looks pretty sad about it. And really, what man wouldn't be sad when a midget orders him to keep his daughters' panties on?
Cut to the show, already in progress. All three Cooch girls are up onstage, dancing in skimpy lingerie. There's a huge sign behind them announcing that the performance will be stopped if anyone touches the girls. I'm pretty sure that wasn't there the last time we saw this act, so I'm guessing someone else must have noticed that the crowd just ain't right tonight. Included in that crowd, by the way, is both Creepy Projectionist and Barkeeper Willie. That may or may not be important later.
Elsewhere in the carnival, Jonesy is at his usual spot, operating the Ferris wheel. Two rather surly-looking gentlemen climb on board, and then try to get out of paying by claiming that they already handed over their tickets. You know, I'm looking at these guys and wondering why the hell they'd ever want to ride a Ferris wheel in the first place. They certainly don't look like the type that would hold hands and kiss at the top. When the other riders start to complain about the delay, Jonesy gives up on trying to collect the tickets and just lazily steps aside. He pulls the lever to start the ride, and then uses his bad leg to keep the throttle pulled all the way out to the maximum. The wheel starts spinning faster and faster (accompanied by a very cool shot of the riders flashing by), and Jonesy just smiles as the steel starts to creak and everyone on board freaks out. Then he pulls out a flask of whiskey and starts getting drunk. Yeah. This is why I don't do amusement parks.
In her own trailer, Sofie is busy reading tarot cards for a balding miner named "Mr. Gukor." The cards are unfortunately unclear, however, so there's no fortune to be told. Instead, Sofie follows her mother's instructions and asks him if he ever knew a man named Scudder. "Yeah, I knew a fella named Scudder," he answers. "A real rummy. Worked the Babylon a few years back. Killed Carl Buttridge with a pick-axe." Hee! "Buttridge." And, yay! Exposition. Mr. Gukor wants to know why she asked, but Sofie says it was "just a question." Then he leaves, and Sofie turns back to speak to Mommatose.
Sofie: Who's Scudder?
Mommatose: He was a real rummy. That's all you need to know.
Sofie: Well, aren't you just full of secrets.
Mommatose: That's not the only thing I'm full of. Where's the bedpan?
Ben, meanwhile, is still wandering around the mine shafts. He's been holding that Zippo open for a while now, and I'll leave it up to you to determine whether it's a continuity error that he hasn't burned his hand yet, or actually a clever reference to the healing powers that we saw him exhibit last week. He eventually stumbles over something on the floor, and we look down to see that it's -- dun dun DUN -- a pick-axe. While he's examining it, another miner comes around the corner wearing a headlamp, and the two of them stare at each other for a moment while we all realize that it's Scudder. Now I've pretty much been hating Nick Stahl throughout the series so far, because I think he's wrong for the part and not a very good actor, but I will say that his look of utter shock right here is absolutely perfect. John Savage, however, just looks like he needs ten minutes alone with a bottle of Pert Plus. Scudder continues moving down the tunnel without saying a word, leaving a flabbergasted Ben to call after him. "Hold on, goddammit," he yells. "I know who you are!" Scudder turns around and walks back, and considers Ben for a moment before asking, "But do you know what that means?" Ben doesn't answer, and Scudder gives up and walks away again. Heh. Cool exchange.
Ben tries to chase his (father? Predecessor? Mortal enemy?) through the tunnel, but he's brought up short when he discovers the body of poor old unfortunately-named Carl Buttridge, with the pick-axe still embedded in his chest. This causes him to abandon the chase and sit down for a good cry, which is exactly what I would do if I found the man of my dreams at the bottom of a mine shaft. He cries, and cries, and cries some more, and then the Zippo goes out and we fade to black.
Cooch tent. The show has progressed quite a bit, and now only the daughters are on stage. They're also topless, and damn if Dora Mae wasn't right about her titties. The left one is Everest. The right one is Pike's Peak. Or maybe it's that one really twisty street in San Francisco. Either way, they're impressive. Backstage, Ma Cooch continues to berate her husband, saying that she doesn't care what Samson thinks, she wants to do the "blow-off" anyway. "We worked way tougher crowds than this," she snaps, "and these Alvins would sell their mother for a peek at Dora Mae's snatch." Oy. You know, I don't even think my mom knows the word "snatch." I'm just saying. The dance number comes to an end, and Pa Pimperson comes out on stage to announce that the routine will cost an extra fifty cents. "This dance," he explains, "is a dance you will take to your grave. This is a dance you don't tell your mama about." Unless your mama is the one making you do the dance, that is. The miners grumble a bit about the extra charge, but they all still line up to the fifty cents.
Meanwhile, the Ferris wheel is still spinning away at top speed. Jonesy looks pretty much piss-drunk at this point, and he gets himself into an altercation with a pair of miners who try to stop the ride and rescue their friends. They're just about to beat the crap out of him when a couple of rousties (#17 and 57) come to his rescue and drag the miners away. Samson appears, and yet another roustie (#613) finally manages to shut down the ride. "You're slewed," snarls Samson at the supine Jonesy. "You knew the rules. We had a deal. He orders Jonesy get the hell out, and then stares him down as he stumbles away.
But who cares about that when Meatloaf's Daughter is topless again? Dora Mae is doing a solo number this time, while Ma Cooch and Libby hang out backstage and discuss the relative merits of various yeast infection treatments. Pa Pimperson looks especially nervous as the crowd grows more and more boisterous. They get even louder as Dora peels off her skirt, and then with a saucy little wink she rips off the G-string and stands there completely naked. Aww. Now, see? It was the wink that made me love her. Libby may be a bit hotter, but this one's got spunk. Marry me, Dora Mae! We're a perfect match! One of my testicles is bigger than the other! Dora keeps her routine going, and launches into a truly impressive handstand that leaves, well, all of her assets on display. The crowd goes absolutely ape-shit when they see this, and it's easy to understand why. I had a friend come over while I was working on the recap earlier this week, and I left the TiVo freeze-framed on this shot when he came into my office. It took him a little while to figure out what he was looking at, but then he went straight home and set up a season pass for Carnivàle. Meatloaf's Daughter can be very persuasive when she wants to be. Unfortunately, she may have been too persuasive in this instance, because the miners in the crowd rush the stage and try to pull her out into the audience. Pa Pimperson dives out to try to save his naked little girl, but just as he manages to pull her away from the horde, a group of miners in the back collapses one of tent posts, and the whole big top comes crashing down on top of them. Fade to black.
Fade up a few minutes later, as Dora Mae tries to compose herself out behind the tent. Ma Cooch watches silently from nearby, with an expression on her face that's half guilt over demanding to stage the blow-off, and half exasperation that her daughter is acting all whiny about getting groped by a handful of zombie miners. Pa Pimperson comes out of the tent, and offers his daughter some ointment with instructions to apply it down there in order to "keep it from getting pussy." Ew. EWWWWWW! And I probably should have spelled that last word p-word phonetically, because it's not exactly what it looks like. Although it wouldn't be any more disgusting even if it were.
And now it's back to the salt mines. Or the silver mines. Or the coal mines. Or wherever the hell Ben is. He finally drags himself up off the ground, and goes for one more lap through the tunnels. This time he finds himself at an intersection supported by wooden beams, and carved on the beams are the same six letters over and over again: AVATARAVATARAVATAR. There doesn't seem to be any clear-cut start or end point, so the folks over at HBO.com can be forgiven for getting the letters wrong. But it definitely says "avatar." We cut away for a quick second to see Lodz, still sitting on his rock, and then we're back on Ben, who's found a lump of coal and is using it to copy the letters down onto his arm. Except that what he actually writes is "TARAVATARA," which sounds like a really swanky island in the South Pacific somewhere. Heh. Nobody ever said the boy was smart. He grabs the miner's lamp off of Carl Buttridge's body, which is probably more for the cinematographer's benefit than his own, seeing as how his magical Zippo lighter never gets hot and never runs out of fuel. Man, I can't even get my Bics to last more than a week. Flick…ahh.
Up on the surface, Jonesy is staggering up the same hillside we saw Lodz and Lila on earlier. He suddenly stops short when he notices something in front of him, and we pan over to see a pair of legs hanging from a nearby tree. Jonesy spins around and starts puking into the grass, and that doesn't look to be anywhere near as much fun as the spitting was earlier.
We don't get to find out who the legs belong to just yet (although if you happened to leave the TiVo freeze-framed on a certain shot for an extended period of time, you might just find the shoes a wee bit familiar), but we do see Jonesy, carrying the body back into Carnieland. He heads straight down the midway, where he runs into Adrienne Barbeau. She handles things much more calmly than you might expect, and helps Jonesy lay the body down on the ground. That's when Ma Cooch spots them, and she runs over and immediately starts wailing and sobbing. Off her anguished cries, we finally get to see the dead girl's face. It's Dora Mae, and her throat has been slit, and the word "harlot" is carved into her forehead. Ouch. That hurt. It's not quite Melfi getting raped, but even by HBO's standards, it's still a pretty powerful moment. "And on her forehead a name was written," intones the voice of Brother Justin. "And they threw dust on their heads, and were crying out, weeping and mourning. Saying, 'Woe, woe, the great city. In one hour, she has been laid waste.'" Farewell, Meatloaf's Daughter. There's a shortage of perfect breasts in this world, and it was a pity to waste yours.
And with that, we slowly pan up to the Ferris wheel, and fade to black with only its six-pointed star of spinning lights shining in the night. Wait a second. A six-pointed star? In hoc signo vinces? Does this mean the Jews will save the day? I guess we'll find out week.