Do I need to make the turkey joke? No? Good. Big ups to Wing Chun and Glark, whose presence on my couch during this incomprehensibly boring episode almost made watching it bearable. Almost.
Previously on Dawson's Creek: Molly told Jack that a couple of her pee-wee soccer teammates quit the team because of Jack; Mr. Brooks chewed Dawson out, and shortly thereafter received a love letter signed "The World"; Drue ratted himself and Jen out and got them community service for The E-Tarts Incident, and then he tried to smarm on her some more but Jen had none of it; the ER recap bludgeoned Sars into submission.
Fade up on the interior of Capeside High. Twinkly, noir-ish music lifted directly from the soundtrack of Living In Oblivion takes us past an anonymous student in super-low-riding cords, an anonymous yawning teacher (can I get an "amen"?), and various other extras, and then the camera zooms up to a vest-wearing kid all Three O'Clock High-style as Vesty yells out that everyone has to come see "what they did to the swimming pool." All the other kids in the hall go running after Vesty. Whatever, kids. Get hobbies.
Cut to the swimming pool, where a crowd -- including a couple of swim-team guys in retro Speedos -- points and laughs. Joey "Paging Alberto VO5" Potter chuckles that "you don't see this every day," and Jack "Boys On The Side -- If By 'On The Side' You Mean 'Out Of The Picture Entirely'" McPhee laughs delightedly. Mitch "The Flash" Leery pushes his way through the crowd, stops, and smiles. Pan through the legs of the assembled to show the source of all the so-called merriment: a small schooner, its sail painted with "Class of 2001" and a golden retriever perched on top, floating in the pool. "What the hell is this?" a jovial Flash wants to know. "That's my boat, and my dog," snaps Principal Derek Smalls, who must have racked up some serious losses at the local OTB in order to warrant an appearance on DC. A couple of the swim-team guys splash into the pool and pull the boat to the side so that the dog can disembark, and Jack giggles some more. Enter Dawson "Dippity Don't" Leery to smile smugly and comment, "I shoulda thought of this." Joey tells him that she thinks it's out of his league. Heh. And speaking of things that people "shoulda thought of," perhaps the writers could have considered the fact that there's no door in that building big enough to permit the entrance of that boat. Or that we don't really care much either way. Right, carry on. The dog jumps down onto the pool apron; Principal Smalls calls the dog, who doesn't come, choosing instead to stand in front of Jack and bark accusingly at Jack's crotch. Insert your own "that's the most play Jack's gotten all season" joke here. As the retriever continues to point at Jack's action, Principal Smalls asks, "Do you know that dog, Mr. McPhee?" "No," Jack says uncomfortably, and stuffs his hands guiltily into his pockets. The students around Jack titter. The Flash looks stern. I dig into the bag of recently-delivered Chinese food and find a chopstick with which to jab Wing Chun in the ribs so that we have a prayer of staying awake for even part of the forty-seven minutes.
Credits. Cat getting locked into a George Foreman grill.
Did anyone here ever watch Pinwheel, the super-fey Nickelodeon morning kids' show with all the annoying puppets and animated shorts and whatnot? I used to watch it when I stayed home sick from school because I couldn't find anything else to watch, and once or twice a week, Pinwheel would air an animated "story" called "Hattytown," starring all these little animated hats with wooden legs and British accents that, uh, lived in a town and had names like Cheffy and Shippy and so on, and I hated it because it creeped me out on a visceral level that I couldn't explain, but I had strep, so I'd just sit glumly through the whole thing and roll my eyes about a hundred thousand times. Well, those bizarre Office Of National Drug Control Policy ads, with the animated kid dancing around and knocking drugs out of the hands of the two thugs, remind me of "Hattytown." Yick. Anyway, just thought I'd share.
Back to Capeside High, where we get a close-up on a PA speaker and a tinny voice summoning the guys in the gang, as well as two African-American students, to the principal's office immediately. The gang smirks at one another; the African-American students join me in rolling their eyes.
In the principal's office -- lit in proto-Maltese Falcon style, complete with atmospheric ceiling fan -- Smalls paces and tells Pacey "The Once And Future Monkey Boy" Witter that he's "one of the lucky three" that Smalls still considers a suspect in Pooldoggate. Pacey looks purposefully blank. The Flash stares at Pacey and does his best impression of a post-bong-hit Jason Sehorn. Smalls says something about the easy way or the hard way. Pacey denies knowing what crime Smalls is even talking about, much less having participated in it.
Cut to Dawson snorting, "What, are you guys accusing me of something?" Well, they'd probably start with aiding and abetting the corruption of an already-hideous hairstyle, Exxon Valdweeb, so why don't you button it? The Flash tells Dawson that he's the last person he'd suspect of pulling "a stunt" like Pooldoggate, but he knows Dawson can understand how they would have "no choice" but to bring him in.
Cut to Jack chuckling incredulously, "Yeah, the dog fingered me." Okay, what in the Sam Hill do I do with that? First the dog stares pointedly at Jack's business, and then…the word "fingering"? Do I make the "on the first date, no less" joke? Oh, look at that. I just did.
Cut back to Pacey as The Flash tears into his role of good cop with relish: "We're on your side, Pacey." But they have to get to the bottom of the mystery. The Whodunnit Saxophone tootles. The Flash says that "circumstances require" that they consider Pacey as a possible suspect.
Cut back to Dawson, asking what circumstances The Flash is referring to. The Flash reminds him that, as The Flash's son, Dawson would have access to the school's master keys.
Cut back to Pacey again, looking like he just ate a bug while Principal Smalls blathers on about the recent demise of the "True Love" and the fact that Pacey had access to the keys to the boat storage facility where Smalls's boat resided at the time of the "boatnapping." Mmmmm. Napping. Excellent plan.
Cut back to Jack, wearing a downright hilarious look of asperity while Smalls expositions that the dog disappeared between ten o'clock and noon. So, Smalls adds, Jack just has to provide an alibi for the morning of the day. Artsy zoom into Jack's eyeball.
Artsy zoom back out to Jack standing on the stoop of the Ryan Home For Wayward Girls with a bouquet of yellow roses, smooshing his face on the screen and groaning at Jen to "come on!" Tee hee! Jack = cute. Jen "The Accused" Lindley toddles drowsily out the front door, murmuring that she's still asleep and "this is a dream in which you're heterosexual." Oh, ha ha. Oh, not. Jack smirks, "Yeah -- these are for Grams. Can you open the door, please? I've got something way better for you." I have no comment. Jen wonders, "What could possibly be better than a dapper young lad bearing a floral arrangement?" Jack tells her that he asked if she could fulfill her community-service requirement by helping him out with pee-wee soccer, and they -- whether he means "they" the pee-wee soccer people or "they" the local youth-offenders' program, I don't know -- said yes. Jen says she's better qualified to pick up trash on the highway than to work with kids. Jack pleads that he needs her -- since Andie left, he's swamped, he can't get the soccer parents to help, and his "star goalie" broke his leg. Jen submits to the guilt trip and agrees to pitch in. Jack hands her the flowers and makes a point of saying for the benefit of the radio listeners, the Amish, and people who have never read a mystery novel before that he'll come back at "12:45 sharp" to pick her up. She asks where he's going, he should stay, she'll make eggs, but he has to go meet Drue at the hardware store, and when Jen asks why, he says that "it's a karma thing" and he's "gotta run." I head up to the roof and peer through my binoculars to see the so-called plot so-called twist crossing the Snake River.
Back at the principal's office, Smalls peers out through the blinds at the glaring sunlight outside and nibbles a piece of scenery. Wiping his lips, he tells Pacey to convince him that he didn't commit the crime: "Tell me everything. Every…single…thing…you did…[dramatic pause]…yesterday." "Yesterday," Pacey muses all Sam Spade. Blah blah blah "where was I?"
Cut to Smalls slamming his fist into the table and informing Pacey that the boat disappeared between 12:30 and 5, and among the seniors, only Pacey had access to the storage area. Back-and-forth. Wing asks for another pillow. Pacey says he'll talk, but he has to warn Smalls: "It's gonna be deathly boring." Yeah, why don't you tell me about it?
The cruiser, parked by the side of the road. Pacey, whose skin looks like the surface of Ganymede, asks Doug in a glum tone if he gets bored and wonders what happened to his life. Doug turns to stare at Pacey, wounded: "Pardon me?" Doug is really cute, I've just noticed. Mmmm. Close-up. Oh, sorry. Anyway, Pacey sniffs that, despite Doug's delusions of Dirty Harry, he's "nothin'," and calls him Barney Fife. Doug looks down sadly: "Does this diatribe have a point, Pacey?" Pacey regards him for a moment and realizes that he's hurt Doug's feelings, and as The Piano Of Brotherly Understanding plinks away, Pacey stammers that no, it doesn't, he's just "a little disconcerted by it all." Doug summons up a fake smile. Pacey looks sad.
Smalls confirms that Dawson hadn't left Mr. Brooks's as of noon, but by 12:30 Dawson "was more than ready to get outta there." We see Dawson lifting boxes, his oily hair flopping across his massive brow. A horn honks outside; it's Gretchen "Winter Oldrums" Witter, come to pick him up in Gale's stead. Mr. Brooks materializes as Dawson reaches the car and asks where he's going. Dawson says he's "done for the day." "The hell you are," Mr. Brooks thunders, saying that if Dawson thinks he can take the money and go off with his girlfriend, he's "sadly mistaken." "She's not my girlfriend," Dawson snips. Gretchen smiles to herself in the car. Mr. Brooks tells Dawson to come back in three hours or he can forget about getting paid. Dawson slumps wearily into the car. Unfunny banter. Gretchen asks of Mr. Brooks, "So what was that about?" Dawson grumbles something snarky. Shut up, Dawson.
Cut to Jack blathering about Jen's insight into "the ten-year-old psyche" and how he kept working on Molly to play goalie and blah doodly-ah. Fade to Jack beckoning Molly From The Black Lagoon over and asking if she got her orange slices. She says that she got one, but some little git named Billy took the other one and smashed it into the ground. "Billy's a jerk," Jack says, and Molly agrees: "Just wait till I'm seventeen and hot -- he'll regret messing with me." Wait a minute -- what? So, he shouldn't regret messing with her now…and when he does regret it in the future, he'll do so because…she's beautiful and can manipulate him sexually? What the hell kind of lookist beauty-centric bullshit is that? Billy behaved rudely, and regardless of gender, Molly should go open a half-pint jar of whup-ass on the little brat -- now, not later. Yeah, a bunch of people on the forums cheered this line, but when you think about it, it's fucked up. Jack laughs and tells her, "Look, Molly, it doesn't matter if you're seventeen or you're forty-five, these guys aren't going to respect you unless you make them." Again, what? All little boys think all little girls suck? Not true. A ten-year-old boy will get grossed out by the concept of kissing a ten-year-old girl, true, and vice versa, but to say that all little boys think that little girls can't play sports as well or that they somehow lack skills is a gross generalization. Again, I umpired Little League, and who gave me shit for showing up with boobs? The parents. The kids couldn't have cared any less. Sure, they called me names, but only when a call went against them -- the kids didn't care. I don't know why I expect the Dawson's Creek writers to portray any semblance of reality, or to take five fucking minutes to examine the sexism that leaks out of every sentence they put into a character's mouth on this crap-ass show, but the fact remains that a little boy should AUTOMATICALLY show a little girl respect because IT'S GOOD MANNERS, and a little girl should not have to PROVE HERSELF in order to earn that respect, and I cannot TELL YOU how tired I have gotten of pointing out the transparent, flimsy, fake-rah-rah, watered-down-girl-power lip service the writers give to women and feminist issues, and it's not that I think they have an obligation to provide politically correct storylines, but rather that they obviously take great pride in jerk-ass subplots like this one because they think they've Made An Important Statement about Doing The Right Thing, and it makes me ill that they consider "wait till I'm seventeen and hot" anything resembling empowerment for Molly, or that she should "have to" play goalie so that a posse of rugrats -- raised by ignorant parents who encourage them to discriminate against girls -- will acknowledge her right to fair treatment.
GOD.
Any. WAY. So Molly asks how she can make them respect her, and Jack tells her that she has to prove it to herself, and when she believes that she's as good as the boys, everything else will fall into place. Molly's scary Mrs. Robinson sister looks on as Jack speaks. Molly asks if Jack has found a goalie yet. Jack says no. The psych-out works -- Molly asks if she can still play at goalie. Jack says yes. "Fine, bring it on," Molly says, and runs off to rejoin her teammates. Whatever. See my remarks above. Molly turns around and says that Jack "just pulled a fast one on" her, and she's going to let it slide because he's "right," but that doesn't mean she doesn't know what just happened. Uh. Okay. Jack chuckles indulgently.
Cut to Drue, hanging out on the porch of Casa Conception, formerly Reconciliation Ranch, and waiting for Dawson. Gretchen's car pulls up, and Gretchen cracks, "Whenever I see that guy, I can't help but hearing [sic] the Darth Vader theme." Way to insult the Sith lord, Gretchen. And furthermore, stow it. Dawson laughs, blathers something about a "karmic decision," and thanks Gretchen for the ride. Dawson strides up the lawn in his XXXL pants and says, "Speak of the devil." "And the devil appears," Drue grunts, clearly less than enthusiastic about hanging out with Dawson. Dawson asks what brings him by, and Drue says he wanted to thank Dawson "for last night." Ew, not like that, thank all the various gods of world religions. Dawson expositions something about running into Drue at the movies and lending him money for popcorn, blah blingety blah, and Drue blabbers about finding "at least one ally in this strange and eclectic [sic] hamlet." They shake hands. Dawson stutters that he appreciates the thought, but Drue didn't have to come all the way down to the Ranch to tell him that. Drue didn't; Dawson left The Flash's keys in Drue's car. Dawson thanks him effusively. Drue grateful blah blah blah "the new kid" blah blah blah "what goes around comes around" blah blah blah fishcakezzzzzz. Dawson: "That is so true." Well, not really, or you'd have croaked by now, Dirty Hairy.
Witterbrüder. Someone stole a dog. How do we know it isn't just lost? Footprints in the dirt. Gardener maybe, we don't know, important dog. COPS, boring, don't stay mad because of the whole wasting-your-life thing. Listen to me because I'll only say this once: if you ever care about anything, or become as good at anything, as much as I have about serving as an officer in this town, I will be shocked, so if you judge me again, I'll bitch-slap you. Sulk. Brood. Stomp.
Smalls clarifies for those of us without cortical function that Pacey accompanied Doug to look for the very dog he's accused of stealing. Pacey appeals to The Flash, saying that it's obvious he's not responsible for Pooldoggate, "so why are we still here?" Smalls says eagerly that a "fresh detail" has come to light, so Pacey has to account for all of his whereabouts the day before. Pacey realizes aloud that they found out about the dumb pact with Dawson. Smalls busts on him for remembering it. Pacey retorts that of course he remembers it, "it was [his] idea," but points out that Dawson has probably tried to implicate Pacey in order to divert suspicion from himself. Smalls then must deliver the following line with a straight face: "Mr. Witter, justice is blind. If Dawson is responsible, we'll nail him. Just as we'll nail you." The Cymbal Crash Of The Tightening Noose delivers us into the comforting bosom of commercial.
Sars: Who do you think did it?
Wing Chun: I don't care!
Sars: But if you did care.
Wing Chun: I don't!
Sars: I don't either. But if I did, I'd think that it's Drue.
Wing Chun: It's all three of them. Not that I care.
Fade back up on Dawson in the interrogation room, his hair wilting like moldy hay over his forehead: "How is it possible that we're still doing this?" Principal Smalls explains all the reasons why he thinks Pooldoggate is "an inside job." A shot of The Flash, nodding off. Dawson appeals to his father. The Flash tells him that if Dawson can account for the hours between five and ten, "we'll be done with this." "We'll be done with this when I've got my man," Smalls snaps.
Dawson at the Brookshaven. Mr. Brooks is surprised to see Dawson. Dawson says he works there. Mr. Brooks says he doesn't. Dawson says they had an agreement. Mr. Brooks says that they did, but Dawson broke it and is therefore fired. Mr. Brooks blah blah blah "floozy" blah blah blah "hormonal adolescent." Dawson's nostrils wonder what Mr. Brooks could hope to gain by insulting his friend. Mr. Brooks couldn't give a fiddler's fart about Dawson's "lady." Dawson's nostrils flip inside out and squall at Mr. Brooks about "abandoned dreams" and how they don't give Mr. Brooks "license to inflict [his] pain on [Dawson]." Hey, whatever it takes. And shut up, Dawson's nostrils. Mr. Brooks asks how dare Dawson presume to know him, where he's been, what he's done, and orders him to "get the hell out" of his house. "Fine," Dawson pouts, and flounces out, slamming the screen door behind him. Shut up, Dawson. Shut up, nostrils.
Jack. Interrogation. He can go as soon as he tells them his whereabouts after 5:30 the evening. Jack says that, as he's already told them, he had a soccer game.
Cut to Jen helping a kid thrash his way into a shin guard. She glances over her shoulder and warns Jack, "Militant pee-wee parents, two o'clock." Jack looks over to see a phalanx of dads approaching him. Jack rolls his eyes. The lead dad says that they've heard a "strange rumor" that Jack's going to use Night Of The Living Molly in goal, and they "can't allow" that. Jack shrugs that Lead Dad doesn't have to "allow" it, because Jack's the coach, not Lead Dad. Lead Dad says meaningfully that he represents the parents who kept their mouths shut "when certain alarming personal details came to light." Jack's eyes start to tear up, and he drops his head as Lead Dad goes on to say that it's not personal, and he's going to give it to Jack "straight" (snork) -- if Jack puts Bride Of Molly in goal, the team will lose the game, and if the team loses the game, Jack loses his job. Oh, for chrissakes. He's a volunteer, and I don't think that whatever local body governs the pee-wee leagues would permit vigilante homophobic dads to go around enacting purity laws on behalf of youth sports. In short: stuff it, Lead Dad. Jack says wearily that he'll take that "under advisement," and excuses himself to warm up the team. Lead Dad flicks his head, and the rest of The Homophobic Dad Gaggle follows him to the sidelines. Jen strolls up: "Whoo -- looks like Pat Buchanan's posse." Ha! No kidding. Jack fills her in. Jen gasps, "Are you kidding me? Jack, what're you gonna do?"
Swoosh back to the interrogation room, where The Flash verifies that Doug made Pacey get in the back of the car. Whatever.
Swoosh to the cruiser, where Pacey sulks in the back seat. Longish story short, Doug escorts a blind gentleman home from the grocery store. Pacey watches from the back as Doug helps the man inside. The Violin Of Gaining New Respect soughs, joined by The Piano Of Having It All Wrong.
Cut to Dawson, saying that he went back to the Brookshaven "against [his] better judgment." Yeah, really. Mr. Brooks as written would give him an ass full of buckshot if he went back there.
No such luck, though. Dawson comes in without knocking and leans on the doorjamb to deliver a self-obsessed monologue on how he saw Mr. Brooks's yearbook and read the caption about wanting to become a Hollywood filmmaker, and it's a "pretty striking coincidence" since he's wanted the same thing ever since he could remember and blah bloopety bling. "Good for you," Mr. Brooks says acidly, scratching his ear. "It scared the hell out of me," Dawson says intensely, because "I don't ever want to be like you." Don't worry, Dawson. Mr. Brooks is cool, so there's really nothing for you to fear. Dawson goes on to say that he doesn't want to "be the kind of person" who pushes people away; he doesn't "want to be alone," and he knows that Mr. Brooks doesn't want to be alone either. Mr. Brooks can't get rid of him, he says. Poor Mr. Brooks. I can empathize. Mr. Brooks stares at him as Dawson says that what works on other people won't work on him, so he's come back to finish the job Mr. Brooks hired him for, and while Dawson probably thinks that that's noble, it's really because Dawson couldn't take a hint if it arrived at the table on a bed of lettuce. Dawson takes off his coat. Mr. Brooks gets up from the couch, but doesn't say anything. What. Ever.
Jump cut to Dawson, saying more or less the same thing about Pacey -- that he's "not an idiot" and wouldn't jeopardize his precarious academic standing for a sub-par prank. Smalls thanks him. He leaves. The Flash asks if Smalls is "satisfied." Smalls is indeed satisfied, because he knows who did it. "Really?" The Flash asks, surprised. Smalls says loftily, "Obviously! Well, it's clear you don't watch Inspector Poirot on A&E." Heh. On the other hand, nobody watches that show. Smalls nods contentedly to himself as we fade out to commercial.
Back to the interrogation room, where Non-Liz Non-Claiborne is snipping that "there is neither rhyme nor reason that could account for" deducing that Drue masterminded Pooldoggate. Smalls says smugly that, if NLNC is finished, he'll tell her exactly how they know that Drue did it. Fish-eye lens shot of Drue in the hardware store as Smalls expositions that they know Drue bought a can of paint identical to the paint used to write "Class of 2001." Cut to Drue twirling The Flash's keys on his finger; Smalls expositions about that, too. Cut to a Sunset Boulevard-esque running-cam zoom up to Drue meeting the Witterbrüder at the boatyard, which makes him "conveniently present" at all the key crime-committing moments, and gives him "the means and resources" to "pull it all off, without a hitch." Smalls asks The Flash if he left anything out; The Flash, trying to contain his amusement at Smalls's pleasure in having pieced it together, says he thinks Smalls covered everything. "You conniving brat," NLNC spits at Drue, then grouses to Smalls, "I should have known after last year's ferret incident." Ha! Drue sighs noisily. Smalls and NLNC agree on two weeks' suspension and probation for the rest of the school year. Drue laughs in disbelief, and after Smalls reminds Drue that he has "a history" which has proven "to be quite telling," NLNC whaps Drue on the back of the head and orders him to get her purse, which makes him giggle even more. Heh. Reasonably funny scene, that.
In the hall, Drue huffily takes books out of his locker and stuffs them into his backpack as NLNC broods nearby. Joey wanders past, and Drue calls her over and tells her to tell "the boys" that he admires "the brilliance of their design." Then he changes his mind and tells her just to tell them "touché." He and NLNC head for the door; a puzzled Joey asks, "Which boys -- what happened?" "Karma," Drue shrugs. "Finally caught up with me." Oh, right. Like Drue would have such a moment of self-awareness. Whatever. NLNC drags him off.
Outside the Capeside police station, Pacey waits for Doug. We see that he's holding a box of Krispy Kremes. Awww. When Doug emerges, Pacey starts to proffer the donuts, thanking Doug for letting him come on the ride-along: "It was illuminating." Doug accuses him of sarcasm, but Pacey is sincere, saying that what Doug does "matters more than any job I'll ever be able to hold down." Doug snorts that, the day before, Pacey didn't think it mattered at all, but Pacey says he knows differently know -- he knows it matters to the blind guy, and to "some dumb kid" that Doug will keep from getting in a car wreck, and in a million other ways that Pacey will never notice. Doug starts to wander off, shrugging that if it weren't him doing the job, it'd be someone else. Pacey argues, "But it is you, Doug -- it's you, and I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss that." Doug regards Pacey warily as Pacey adds that he'd consider himself "lucky" to "someday ride shotgun" with Doug. Doug thinks that "would be a mistake." "You don't think I'd make much of a cop, huh?" Doug doesn't. He does think that Pacey is "a daring original." Pacey looks up, startled that Doug has expressed a positive thought about him, and Doug goes on that Pacey has a talent for "flying in the face of conventionality," and is better at breaking the rules than enforcing them: "And you know what? I actually admire that in you. I really do." Aw. Pacey looks as if he might cry, but then quickly takes the opportunity to tease his big brother, and they walk off into the sunset with their donuts, teasing each other.
Gretchen comes in to find Dawson doing an Internet search -- most assuredly not on the IMDb, either -- on Mr. Brooks. He blathers on about considering himself "an encyclopedia of filmic history," but maybe he doesn't know everything, blah dee blah. The search doesn't turn up anything under "Arthur Brooks," and Gretchen suggests searching under a nickname. There's some dumb flirtatious badinage that doesn't bear repeating, and Gretchen eventually leaves. Dawson, whose hair looks like a tea cozy made of wet reeds fell on his head, searches under "A.I. Brooks" instead, and gets a list of films and a bio. Taken aback, he reads up on Mr. Brooks.
Jack answers the door of Emancipated Manor, formerly The McPhee Institute For Cryogenic Reanimation Research, formerly McPhee Manor, to find a soggy-from-crying Revenge Of Molly and her scary Mrs. Robinson sister on the front stoop. SMRS reports that Molly asks if they could come by and see Jack. "What is it, Molly?" Jack asks. "I'm sorry I got you fired," Molly chokes out. "What?" Jack says, incredulous. They go for a little stroll over to a bench, and Jack asks why Molly thinks his getting fired had anything to do with her. Molly snuffles that she heard Lead Dad yelling at Jack after the game, and then that day at school, Lead Kid told her that if she had stopped more goals, then Jack wouldn't have been…she starts sobbing for real, and Jack gives her a hug. She wails out another apology; Jack tells her it's okay, and shoots SMRS a look. SMRS just stands, arms folded, and looks worried. Jack tells Molly haltingly that Lead Dad and The Homophobic Dad Gaggle fired him "because they disagree with who I am…as a coach, not you as a player. They knew I was right about you, they just couldn't admit it." Molly wheezes tearfully that SMRS told her it isn't her fault, but she didn't believe SMRS because she doesn't understand how anyone could fire Jack. Jeez, me neither -- look at the lashes on that boy. But then, I guess that wouldn't cut much mustard with Lead Dad and The Gaggle. Jack explains euphemistically that he's "confusing" to people like Lead Dad, but we can't hate people "because they're different" -- we have to go on "being the person that we can be." Molly seems to accept this, and leans her head on Jack's shoulder. Jack busses her forehead. Work it, It Came From The Molly! Heh. Just kidding.
Sort of.
Joey at the front door of Casa Conception, asking The Flash if Dawson's at home. The Flash invites her to check Dawson's room if she'd like. She marches in; The Flash looks amused and tells Joey that, if Dawson's up there, she should tell Dawson that The Flash knows, "and congrats." Oh, that The Flash. Don't let the fact that his ears touch his shoulders fool you. He's no less than a Mr. Marple.
Joey walks into the Sanctum Dawsonorum and finds Dawson and Pacey disposing of evidence. A bit late for that, isn't it? But maybe that's how The Flash figured it out. Anyway, Joey demands an explanation. A moment later, complaining that "it's a bitch gettin' up here without a ladder," Jack tumbles through the window of the Sanctum. He sees Joey, who gives him a wave and an evil smile, and asks what's up: "I thought we were supposed to be doing this alone." We get a long shot of the three boys wearing their "busted" faces as Joey says gleefully that she knew it -- they did it, didn't they? Pacey tells her to calm down, "there's no reason to jump to silly conclusions," and Jack stammers that they didn't really pull off the prank, and Dawson adds that "we all have airtight alibis" as Pacey snarks that "we all know Drue did it" and Jack tries not to burst out laughing.
"On the other hand," Dawson says, if they had wanted to pull the prank, Jack could have swung by and napped the dog after he met Drue at the hardware store (shot of Jack sneaking around the Smalls residence, looking both ways, then creeping towards the unattended retriever); Dawson could have run the "Mitchmobile" over to the boatyard after Drue dropped off the keys, using the code given to him by Pacey to break out Smalls's boat and bringing it back to the rendezvous point Jack mentioned earlier (shot of Dawson doing just that, and…huh? Rendezvous point? Whatever, moving on); Pacey could have had Drue drop him off near the mysterious rendezvous point, painted the sail, and headed over to the gym after the key hand-off from Dawson to bring everything in and place it in the pool (Pacey paints the sail, then herds the dog into the front seat). "And by eleven we'd be done, and everyone would still be none the wiser," Dawson gloats, adding that it's just "a hypothetical." Pacey adds that Drue is "the arch-criminal behind it all," and Jack smugs that Drue "got what was coming to him for so long." "Karma," Joey smiles. "Exactly," Dawson smiles back.
Deep in the marshy brush, Pacey and Dawson bury the evidence. All around them, frogs trill. Dawson asks what Pacey's thinking. "I'm thinkin' we pulled it off," Pacey says. The two of them set about filling in the hole, and Pacey continues, "And I'm thinking that something's been right tonight that hasn't been right for a long, long time. I just keep forgetting why we're not still friends." Because Dawson's a fuckknuckle? Dawson stops mid-shovelful and peeves, "You know it's not that simple." "Of course not, it's just that --" Pacey starts, and Dawson interrupts, "I know." They shovel in silence for a moment; then Pacey admits that, when Dawson told him he'd never trust him again, it ranked among the five worst moments of his life. Dawson -- of COURSE -- counters that, when he walked out and saw Joey and Pacey on his porch, "that was my worst. Number one with a bullet." Count yourself lucky, then, Gel-y Roll Morton. And get over it already. And SHUT UP. Pacey chews his lip, then asks if maybe, someday, he could convince Dawson that he's trustworthy again. God, Pacey -- run AWAY! He's not a good friend, as he's proven A HUNDRED TIMES! Dawson says mildly that he would like to believe that's a possibility. "I gotta try," Pacey murmurs, gathering his things. He turns to face Dawson: "I'm not ready to give up on you." Pacey? GIVE UP. We have. It's quite liberating, really. Dawson looks at him silently for a second, then grabs his jacket and observes, "Well, if it doesn't work out, we could always just kill each other." Wow. Good one. No, seriously -- that's not a bad line, especially coming from Dawson. They walk off through the reeds together, shovels in hand, and The Flute Of Potential Friendship Rekindling ushers us into the closing credits.
week: Gretchen raves about Dawson to Joey, Gretchen and Dawson kiss, and Joey sobs into her hand. Don't think these things have anything to do with each other, though, because you'll only be disappointed.