Previously: Audrey suspected that Pacey was cheating on her; she then overheard Alex "No Amanda Woodward" Pearl talking to him about the time they kissed. So, after much squawking, Audrey and Pacey broke up. Later, Alex went all Mrs. Robinson on Pacey, only to leave before sealing the deal because sleeping with him would be "inappropriate." In other news, Pander and Dawson had issues.
Fade in on Worthington School For The Painfully Pointy-Hipped. Audrey runs down the hallway of her dormitory, screaming with laughter. She's carrying a water balloon in each hand, and is being chased by two dudes with Super-Soakers. Audrey skids into her room, where Joey is packing. The boys douse them both with water before Audrey manages to slam the door in a gale of giggles. Joey looks ruefully at her soaked t-shirt and sort of half grins. Her hair is all frizzy and not blown out, and I sort of like it. I mean, she's packing after finals, she should look frizzy. It's realistic. "Who knew that the losers we lived with were so cute?" Audrey asks, plopping down on her bed. Joey sighs that she knows Audrey is "single with a vengeance" but she -- Joey -- has too much packing to do to go hang out with the dorks door. She's got to be ready to leave for Capeside at nine. Audrey whines that she wishes Joey was spending the summer in Los Angeles with her. Joey doesn't really offer an explanation as to why she isn't. I assume she has big plans in Capeside, including but not limited to: pining after Dawson, pretending she never dated Pacey, making Bessie's life a living hell, finding a cure for AIDS, saving several orphans from drowning in the creek, writing the Great American Novel, and fighting crime with the lethal combination of her pointy hip bones and a vast repertoire of Carpenters hits. Audrey pouts, then has a brainstorm: "How about I come to Capeside with you?" Just for a couple of days! Joey folds t-shirts and thinks before telling Audrey that she has to be "packed and stored by nine." Audrey yelps gleefully and embraces Joey. There is a knock at the door. The girls exchange glances, and Audrey hands Joey a water balloon. "Let's do it," she says. Joey nods. Audrey flings the door open and the girls attack…Professor Creepy. The end-of-the-year party is going full tilt behind him, by the way. Right over his shoulder, two girls are making out. There's your gay smack for the year, people! Audrey and Joey make a series of alternately amused and horrified faces. "Oh my God," Joey says. "Oops," Audrey offers. "Hi girls, how are you?" Creepy asks. "My mid-season replacement sitcom got canned and I have a mortgage to pay and kids to feed, so I'm back." Audrey beats a hasty retreat. Joey awkwardly waves Creepy inside.
God, Paula Cole, we get it.
Creepy dries himself off as Joey perches on the edge of her bed and offers that his little visit is a '"nice surprise." She's sorry about that whole water-balloon thing. "I'm pretty sure I won't melt," Creepy tells her, then digs around in his Hip Young Professor Messenger Bag and comes up with a copy of the Worthington Literary Review. Which includes Joey's crappy story, entitled "The Kiss." Joey is stunned, and stammers her thanks. Creepy shrugs that "it's nothing if not well deserved." Joey flips though the book and calls her debut as a published writer "amazing." She thanks him again. "Thank yourself, Joey Potter," Creepy says and wonders if there are any "further chapters" to her story. Joey hems and haws that she and the boy in the story have gone their separate ways. "If only the rules of writing applied to life, right?" she asks. "Spoken like a published author," Creepy says, getting up to go. Joey inquires after his "summer plans," and Creepy turns and smiles and tells her that he's thinking about "writing again." Let me guess. It's a book about a winsome college co-ed whose great talent and joie de vivre brings meaning and inspiration into the bitter, lonely life of a college professor? Joey mutters some generic encouragement, and Creepy wonders what her own plans are. "I have three months of sessions at Brite Smile planned," she says. Not really. Actually, Joey tells him that she's going back to Cali -- er, "Capeside," and that going home again feels like she's taking "two steps back." Creepy says that he looks forward to hearing all about it in the fall. "You will," Joey promises, and thanks him again. "It's me who should say thanks," Creepy tells her. "For more than you can possible imagine. Thank you, Saint Joey. Thank you for smiling at me every day! Thank you to deigning to speak to me! Thank you for existing, you perfect human specimen! Thank you!" He tells her to have fun over the summer and heads for the bank to go cash his paycheck, muttering about how he was in The State and he might as well just kill himself now if he's doomed to play jackassy tertiary characters in rapidly declining WB teen dramas.
Liberty Hell. Speaking of jackasses, this entire plotline features Pacey acting like one. No, I know. I know. I said I was sorry! I'm not any happier about it than you are. The entire kitchen crew plus Alex is standing around the kitchen, waiting for Pacey to show up so that they can start their staff meeting. He's "four minutes late." Alex? Is pissed. They bicker. I yawn. Whatever. The most interesting thing about this particular scene is that Alex's hair has sunk to new depths of hideousness. I've seen ferrets with nicer hair than hers. It's appalling to me how ugly the hair and make-up folk have made Sherilyn Fenn here, with the Fun Fur-style ponytail and over-plucked brows. She's so much prettier than that! It's practically a crime, people! Anyhoo, the crew at Liberty Hell is planning a luncheon for their investors; Alex explains that if the meal goes well, the investors may open another branch of the restaurant in Philadelphia. "This meal must be perfect in every respect," she says. "Anything goes wrong, and I mean anything, it's my ass, but it's your job." The staff exchanges put-upon glances as Alex goes over her ideas for the menu, which Pacey immediately -- and, loath as I am to admit it, rather rudely -- shoots down. I mean, I get that Alex is a terrible boss and an unpleasant person, but who among us hasn't had to deal with a cruddy manager? It usually doesn't help to antagonize them. But what do I know? Just an old lady here. Anyway, Alex glares at Pacey, and wonders what he suggests they serve. He rattles off a bunch of crap about sashimi and arugula and rack of lamb and polenta and lemon soufflé. "Of course, that's just one idea. We could go another way if you prefer," he finishes snidely. Alex demands "a minute" with him and drags him…
…into the office, which, with its exposed brick, looks just like Val's office at the Peach Pit After Dark. In fact, if the producers can't pony up the cash for Heather Locklear, I'd accept Tiffani "Don't Call Me Amber" Thiessen. Or Shannen Doherty! I hear she's free. Alex grabs Pacey and hisses that if he wants to fight with her, he better "be prepared to reap the whirlwind because [they] will tangle ass and [he] will lose." "Reap the whirlwind"? "Tangle ass"? I know those words are English, but I'm not familiar with them in that particular order. From the context, however, I gather that Alex is prepared to make Pacey's life a living hell. She stalks back into the kitchen. Pacey sneers behind her back.
Boston College For People Who've Made The Study Of The Art Of Film-Making Their Lives! Their Lives! Dawson's cleaning out his locker and avoiding Pander (who's lurking nearby) when his cell phone rings. Pander eavesdrops as Dawson squeals into the phone and chirps that, no, he totally has no summer plans! He barely has friends! Pander practically falls over, he's listening so intently. He squeaks when he hears Dawson whisper that he has no idea what Pander's summer plans are, but that he'll find out. Dawson hangs up. Pander slides right into Dawson's eyeline and lifts his brows. "So?" he asks. "So, what?" Dawson retorts, before telling Pander that he was just having a private conversation. "I thought we weren't talking," he adds. "We're not," Pander tells him. Dawson gives him an "okay, then" look and goes back to ripping pictures of ET out of his locker. Pander looks at him plaintively and wonders why they're not talking, anyway. "Why would I want to talk to you after what you pulled in New York?" Dawson asks. Pander, by the way, is wearing six braided man-chokers. He must have completely depleted the stock over at Pacific Sunwear. "Because I have manly magnetism?" he offers. Hee. Dawson has no response. "My wit? My enormous talent?" Dawson conceals a little grin. Pander asks, rather nicely, what their agent said. Dawson points out that it's his agent, not Pander's. Pander accepts this and finally apologizes for being such a jackass in New York. He says he's working really hard on not freaking out. Pander turns to go. Dawson stops him, and tells him he might want to change his summer plans. "Really?" Pander asks, grinning. Dawson smiles at him. Oh, just do it already, you two!
Hey, good news! Jen isn't dead, although she's skinny as hell. She and Jack are sitting around the quad at Boston Bay College For People Who Never Go To Class, drinking frappuccinos and discussing their summer plans. They dismiss the idea of going to Fiji, and Jen sneers at the idea of Europe, because she refuses to stay at a youth hostel. Whatever, Princess. Jack rolls his eyes and sarcastically comments that he hears they have a nice Radisson in Cleveland. He tells her that they're "way too young to be getting lazy about their lives," and points out that Grams is having a more exciting time than either of them of late. And more power to her, I say. "As far as moving forward goes, this year has been a total wash for both of us," he says. And while it's a bit silly that Jack has so suddenly and miraculously rescued from both his Frat Rat Attitude and his Descent Into Attempted Suicide, it's so nice to have cheerful, likeable Jack back that I'm not even going to complain. Jen wrinkles her nose and comments that "this sounds suspiciously like summer camp, only long and much farther away." Ooh, poor baby! Someone is forcing you to take a months-long vacation! Just wait until you have to work for a living. Trust me, the idea of spending a month in Fiji will make you burst into tears of longing and despair. Finally, she tells Jack that if she "has to do this thing" -- like, you're welcome to wake up at seven every morning and sit at my desk every day for two months for me while I run around Paris with Jack, sweetheart -- "there's no one [she'd] rather do it with than [Jack]."
Grams's House For Big Girls And Boys. Grams is at the kitchen table with a cup of tea when Jen and Jack come skipping into the kitchen. "Yes, the rumors are true. The unthinkable is happening. The sky must indeed be falling," Jen chortles. "We finally did it," Jack says. They had sex! No way! Oh, actually, they decided to go to Costa Rica for three months. Grams is stunned. Stunned! Jack tells her they figured that, if they're going to have an adventure, they might as well reallyhave an adventure. "Like Indiana Jones!" Jen chirps. "Or Jeff Probst!" Jack offers. Grams says nothing, but privately reflects that Jeff Probst is a jackass. Jen twitters that the entire trip could be a huge mistake, but it doesn't matter because, from now on, when "good old Costa" comes up in "casual conversation," they'll be able to say that they've been there and done that. Jack eyebrows that Costa Rica never comes up in casual conversation. "Don't kill my buzz," Jen says, which explains a lot, as she's certainly acting like she's on drugs. "I think your buzz may be doomed," Grams finally says, then breaks the news that she's just gotten off the phone with Jen's Mean Parents. Apparently, they've gotten themselves a place in the Hamptons for the summer and would like Jen to spend her vacation with them. Dun dun dun! Jen looks horrified. No one suggests that she and Jack go to "Costa" for July and the Hamptons for August. Because that would make some kind of logical sense.
Liberty "This Plot Is My Living" Hell. A bunch of old suits are sitting around a large table, looking at Alex expectantly. "Without further ado, I'd like to bring out the first course," she says. Everyone looks at the kitchen door. Nothing. Alex snaps her fingers. Nothing. She claps her hands. Nothing. "Could you excuse me for one minute?" she asks, then stomps into the kitchen. The food is nowhere to be seen, and the staff is just lounging around drinking coffee. "What the hell is going on in here?" Alex screams. See, it turns out that Pacey took all the food to the local homeless shelter. In the background, Dishwasher sneezes on a fork. Alex flounces back out to the dining room and is mid-spin-control to the board when Pacey strolls in with a stack of pizzas. She races over to greet him. "You slimy little cockroach," she hisses. Pacey smiles good-naturedly. "Hard to believe she graduated first from her class in charm school, eh?" Pacey asks, handing Suit Number One a pizza. And Alex is indeed horrible, but this is really fairly appalling behavior. It'd be a lot smarter of Pacey to make sure the luncheon was a smashing success (and also giving all the muckety-mucks a chance to sample his cooking), then privately tell a few well-placed investors that Alex is running the restaurant into the ground, and that while he'd really love to stay on as head chef, he's besieged with other offers…but, while smart, that probably wouldn't be as dramatic as this coup d'etat. Pacey unfurls a piece of notebook paper and begins reading aloud the grievances of the staff. First, they all believe that the investors have made "a grievous error in judgment" in hiring Alex. Because she has shown "complete incompetence" on a daily basis, Pacey reads. The investors stare at him. Alex is naturally horrified and squeaks at him to shut up. "Oh, I'm not finished yet," Pacey tells her, then continues complaining. Blah blah utter disrespect, blah blah hostile environment, blah blah impossible to serve the meal at a level representative of their abilities. "No lunch?" Suit Number One asks. Pacey explains that he brought them pizza. He continues handing out the slices while Alex tries to convince the investors that this is some kind of Fatal Attraction-like psychosis on Pacey's part, calling him "deeply disturbed and highly delusional." She thinks this must be "some sort of a breakdown." Pacey grins and tells her that she's almost selling that little theory, but that the rest of the staff agrees with him, and the letter he read is indicative of their feelings, too.
"Really indicative. Completely indicative," The Simple, Simple Man pipes up. Alex flails her arms around, frustrated. "Pacey, you're fired!" she yelps. Pacey calmly takes a piece of pizza. "Yeah, reap the whirlwind, babe," he drawls, then walks into the kitchen. I still don't know what that phrase means.Joey shows up at the prison, all innocent and sweet in her white peasant blouse. Unfortunately, however, the guard has some bad news for her; Jailbird Potter was paroled four months ago for good behavior. Joey is stunned that he didn't tell the family that he'd been sprung from the pokey, and makes some noise about not knowing where he is and how can she get in touch with him and blah. The guard tells her that he's not authorized to give her any information about any of the prisoners, but…because she's so delightfully full of sweetness and light and honesty and truth and love and beauty, he'll break all the rules. Man, this It that Joey has sure is powerful. She ought to go to work for the CIA or something. Spies wouldn't stand a chance! Anyway, it turns out that Mike Potter's been working at the five-and-dime in Centerville. "If anyone asks, you didn't hear it from me," the It-Stricken guard says. Joey thanks him and runs away. I didn't even know the world still had five-and-dimes.
Audrey and Dawson walk around downtown Capeside. Dawson's telling a rather boring story about Pacey, the moral of which is that Audrey shouldn't give up on their love. "Well, that's great," Audrey drawls when Dawson finishes said boring story. "That's just fantastic. Now I'm never going to move on!" Dawson shrugs, and they walk in silence for a moment before he tells her that he's going to be in her neck of the woods for the summer, working with "this producer" on Charlie Charlie: A Young Man's Journey From Milan To Minsk. Audrey yelps that this is "the best news ever!" She's so happy not to have to spend all summer with the tools she hung out with in high school. So is Dawson, probably. She throws her arms around Dawson and tells him that he and Pander are staying with her. "No question about it!" Dawson grins sheepishly. "Have you told Joey?" she asks. Dawson looks guilty.
Grams's Dance Party. Jen, clad in her pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, puts The Who on the stereo, gingerly climbs onto an armchair, and begins "dancing." Except it's not really dancing in any accepted sense of the word. It's more like twitching and flailing. She's treating that chair like it killed her dog and burned down her house. Jack comes into the room, stopping short when he sees Jen doing her St. Vitus routine on the furniture. He turns the stereo down. "What the hell are you doing?" Jen asks, opening her eyes. Jack wisely points out that he could easily ask her the same question. Jen looks at her feet and tells him that she's trying as hard as she can not to freak out over this whole parents thing. "It's hard," she admits. Jack nods and tells her that he's on his way to the library to find out if they can get a refund on their cheap flights to Costa Rica. Jen yelps. "Don't cancel our trip," she says, still faintly twitching. Jack sniffs that he's certainly not going to Costa Rica all by himself. Jen sniffs that she really doesn't want to spend the summer with her parents. "Maybe I'd want to spend it with you," she offers. Jack sighs that her parents' phone call "is five years coming" and she has to see it through. Jen wrinkles her face up and wonder why her life has to "stop and start at their convenience." She needs to "dance" in order to figure out how to handle this dilemma. The dance holds all the answers, Jack! The dance! Jack shrugs and turns the stereo back up. "It's all you," he says. She starts with the twitching again.
Alex comes out of Liberty Hell to find Pacey waiting for her. "I feel like the 'reap the whirlwind' line was a pretty clever button on our relationship," Alex sighs. I might, too, if I understood it at all. "You want to step on it?" she asks. Pacey says that he's not there to gloat. He opens his mouth to explain, but gives up with an irritated "never mind." He starts to get into the car. Well, Pacey? I would think Alex might be surprised to see you waiting for her after you got her fired and stuff. But no, she's curious. She wants to know why he came back. Pacey sighs and explains that sometimes he "lets things go" and he "just end[s] up wondering about them." And he doesn't want to let this go. Let what go, exactly? He just headed a coup d'etat, the entire point of which seemed to be that Alex was a crazy evil bitch who needed to be destroyed. Who doesn't want to let go of their asshole boss, if they have to misfortune to be stuck with one? ["And since when does Pacey 'let things go'? He's famous for getting mean authority figures fired. Shut up, Pacey." -- Sars] Pacey explains that he wants to know what made her so damn mean. So he can write a psychological profile for a medical journal? I don't know. Alex looks at him, tired. "You trying to save me, Pacey?" she asks. Pacey shrugs that he's "just curious." Alex thinks for a moment, then tells him that "in the end, people get exactly what they ask for." Pacey proved that today, she says. "I'll see you around," she finishes. Pacey shrugs and gets in the Mustang. It won't start. Of course. And instead of, you know, walking to the subway or whatever, he just sits there and waits for Alex to pull up in her Porsche and offer him a ride. Which she does. After the requisite quip about waiting for the "prison transfer bus" instead, Pacey takes her up on the offer. Yes, getting in a sports car with a woman who's clearly mentally unstable and who probably hates you now? Good idea!
Chung-chung over to the Potter B&B. And we have Bessie! No Bodie, though -- sorry. The Sisters Potter are talking about their deadbeat dad; Joey grousing, Bessie making excuses for him. "Don't be so quick to judge," Bessie counsels, advising Joey to give their father some time to come around. And then she runs away, because the producers can't afford to pay her for any more lines, having blown all of their cash on hair products for Chad Michael Murray. Audrey washes the dishes and suggests that maybe Jailhouse Joe hasn't contacted them because he's afraid of hurting them. Again. Joey sits at the breakfast bar and makes pained faces. "What if he hates me, Audrey?" she asks. "I mean, if somebody sent me to jail, I wouldn't exactly be excited to see them either." Not a bad point. Audrey walks over and gives Joey a sympathetic pat. "If anything, he's ashamed to face you," she says. Audrey tells Joey that her father "knows it's [Joey's] call" whether or not he's a presence in her life. Joey thinks about this, then tells Audrey that's she so glad to have her around. Audrey smiles and goes back to the dishes. "Did you have fun with Dawson?" Joey changes the subject. "The best!" Audrey chirps. "That boy is a gem! You know, he'd do anything for you, Joey." Joey sort of nods, then tells Audrey that the last time she visited her dad in the slammer, Dawson came with her. "It's like he knew I wanted him with me. Some other guy was there too, but I like to pretend my relationship with him never existed. Then there was that time that Dawson convinced me that it was a good idea to narc my dad out to the cops and get him sent back to jail. Those were good times." Audrey points out that nothing has changed -- as far as Dawson caring about her goes, not that he still wants to toss her family members into the Big House. "He drove all the way from New York to Florida to see you, like, three weeks ago for God's sake," she says. Joey looks perplexed. Audrey yelps and curses her big mouth. Joey is stunned. Katie Holmes pulls her dreamy "I love Dawson" look out of the vault and tries to put it on, but ends up landing somewhere between "I like cheese" and "my pants are uncomfortable."
Back in the "I Don't Care" section of the plot, Alex is driving around real fast. Pacey looks uncomfortable. Alex babbles about how her life is "over." Pacey looks uncomfortable. Alex thinks she will probably end up living in a box on the streets with cats nesting in her hair. Not even cats would nest in that hair, Alex. Pacey looks uncomfortable. Alex drives faster. Pacey looks uncomfortable. It all continues in this vein for far too long, and we go to commercial with Alex ranting about feeling "terrified and liberated and alive." She pumps the speed up to 65 whole miles an hour. Pacey? Yeah, uncomfortable.
When we get back from the break, Pacey is continuing with the uncomfortable looks and the shifting in his seat. Alex is continuing with the semi-suicidal, totally crazy yammering. Blah blah blah, Pacey decides to call her bluff and starts musing that his life is over, too. No job. No apartment. No girlfriend. So he suggests that they "push it as far as [they] can go," pointing out that Alex is only going 80. "Really, what's that?" he asks, talking a mile a minute. "Because 80 miles per hour is what my grandmother drives on her way home from the gynecologist." And Pacey would like it if Alex would drive even faster. Faster, pussycat, kill, kill! "Really drive it! Like you got somewhere to go!" Alex looks at him like he's lost his mind, as Pacey tells her that "a fast car and a beautiful woman really do it for [him] in all kinds of ways." Alex blinks. Pacey leans over to kiss her neck. While she's driving. I don't understand how he expects this to help, unless he really does want to die. Which I doubt. Alex whispers for him to stop; then she almost smashes into a minivan; then the Porsche spins out of control and skids all over the road and the two of them exchange hilariously anguished "Oh my God, am I going to die with this fucking nutjob?" faces. Then, of course, the car comes safely to a stop. Pacey gets out, and crosses right in front of the car. Because that's a brilliant idea. He opens the driver's side door, and Alex spills out. They sit to each other on the curb, in shock.
Casa Leery. Dawson's kicking it in his room when Joey wanders in. "How'd it go with your dad?" he asks. Joey shrugs and arranges herself on the bed and explains. Dawson blinks. "Wow, that's a shock," he says, but he guesses it's "understandable." Joey raises her brows. "The last time he got out, he came back into your life, he turned everything into a complete disaster. If he loves you -- which he does -- it's understandable that he wouldn't want to repeat that again," Dawson explains. Joey thinks about this, then agrees and tells him that she wants to talk about something else. "Audrey sort of indicated that you had something to tell me," she offers, looking all hopeful and puppy-dog-esque. Dawson grins and tells her that it's "a really good thing," and he really, really wants her to be stoked about it, but this might not the best time to talk about it, what with all of her My Father Is A Jackass-type problems. Joey, clearly believing that an admission of lurve is imminent, encourages him to tell her everything. So he does: about Los Angeles. Joey's face falls slightly, but she covers and manages to act vaguely enthusiastic about the whole thing. "It's the beginning of everything I've ever wanted," Dawson sighs. Joey shakes her head, reflecting that she "had no idea." Dawson looks confused. "I thought you said Audrey…?" he asks. Joey sputters that she's just so happy for him that she can't "maintain a complete thought." I feel that way around Dawson all the time, but it has nothing to do with happiness. Dawson smiles and says that he wanted to share his news with her more than anyone in whole world. Joey offers that she's not quite sure what to say. "You say all the right things," Dawson assures her. Joey does the half-smile. "It's been a long year," an ovary sings in the background. The two of them grin at each other. Oh, all right. Fine, people. Just get them together and get it over with already! Like a Band-Aid. Just pull it off!
Alex. Pacey. I can barely keep my eyes open. "Well, clearly I've got problems," Alex announces. Pacey mutters that everyone has problems. I certainly do, and one of them is how boring this plot is. Alex sobs that she could have killed, you know, a whole bunch of folks. "My whole life could have changed forever!" she sobs. Yes, and the people you could have killed? Would have been dead, you dumb git. Alex sniffles that Pacey saved her life. "What's it worth to you, Alex?" he asks quietly. She doesn't know, she mumbles. "Do you know why you're so good?" she asks. Oh, barf. Pacey doesn't answer this supremely Smurfy question, but does tell her that she can't go around feeling sorry for herself all the time. "It's never too late," he announces. "For what?" Alex asks. "For me to cram more clichés into this scene," he replies. Actually, he says, "To try and make things right." Alex cries and laughs and tells him that the saddest thing? Is that she "really does like him." Pacey chuckles and hugs her. What the hell was that? No, seriously. She likes him? He likes her? After all that? Oh, whatever. It's not like the writers will even remember this plot come week anyway.
So, Jen phones her parents. She knows. She does. She'll talk to them later. She hangs up and shuffles into the living room, telling Jack that she's going with him to Costa Rica. "They sort of sounded relieved. Did I do the right thing?" she asks. Jack makes a face and tells her that he can't answer that. Jen's trying not to cry and I'm trying not to pass out from boredom when Grams comes in and asks for the update. Jen gives her the bullet. "Jack doesn't think that I'm doing the right thing," she says. Grams shrugs and says that Jen's parents have been "cheap with her," and that this invitation doesn't absolve them of their crappy behavior. The three of them have a complicated relationship, she says, and "it may well be unsalvageable." Everyone sits on the sofa and looks sad, sad, sad. Grams continues after our Moment Of Silence For The Death Of Jen's Childhood (Again), saying that the only person who knows what's "worthwhile" or not as far as Jen's Mean Parents go is Jen. "If your parents have truly found a way to love you," she finishes, "this won't be their last opportunity to prove it." Cue the hugging and the learning.
Time for the most hysterical scene ever. Dawson visits the Flash's grave and plops right down on the grass and starts chatting. "How's it going?" he begins. Up in heaven, the Flash licks a vanilla cone and snorts that he's dead -- how does Dawson think he's doing? "I've been busy, which is good, I think," Dawson continues. "Speaking of which, I lost my virginity. It was Jen." Hold the phone. Rewind. "I lost my virginity. It was Jen." To the headstone? Classy! Dawson chats about Pander and the movie a bit, and says that he finally gets to use the plane ticket the Flash bought him a thousand years ago. "But the real thing I wanted to talk to you about is Joey Potter," he finally blurts out. Oh, dear Lord. Also? I think you can just call her "Joey," Dawson. Poor Dead Flash isn't going to think you're talking about, like, Joey Tribbiani or something. Blah blah blah Dawson loves Joey and wants to be with her and loves her and wants to be with her and loves her! He loves, loves, loves her! Dawson sighs and looks at the grass. The Dead Flash has no response to any of this. "Okay, I'll talk to you later," Dawson finally says, crawling off the grass. "Don't go anywhere." And with that, the Flash returns from beyond the grave and smacks his son upside the head.
Speaking of the loveable Joey Potter -- and fathers -- she pulls the Potter Truck into the parking lot of the five-and-dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean and hops out. She pulls the Worthington Literary Journal out of her back pocket and skips inside to harass her jailbird Dad.
week: Season finale!