By Evany
Susan tries everything she can think of to get Mike to remember her: Songs from the '70s, her special "mac and cheese"...kidnapping. But it's her patented clumsiness that does the trick: she trips over a curb and it sparks a faint glimmer in Mike's murky mind. Even so, he just can't seem to get past the thorny "Susan slept with an Englishman" thing, so he heads back into Edie's clutches. Bree puts the kibosh on Danielle sleeping with the married, thirty-five-year-old history teacher, so Danielle fakes a suicide attempt, which puts the scare in Bree but good. Danielle then uses her mother's newly aroused parental concern as leverage: if Bree won't give Danielle permission to date the history teacher, then Danielle is hitting the streets. So master manipulator Bree goes totally over the top with her enthusiasm. She brings a bunch of Danielle's stuff over to the history teacher's house and tells him how thrilled she is that they're now going to be living together, and he's all "???" Petrified by visions of an actual, real relationship with Danielle, the history teacher breaks things off. So master retaliator Danielle gets him fired and informs his soon-to-be-ex about the relationship, thereby ruining his chances in the divorce settlement -- it seems the poisoned apple doesn't fall far from the Bree. Carlos brings a woman home to make Gabby jealous, so Gabby brings a man home to do the same. But when Carlos busts her making faking sex noises, they seemed poised for a grand mal make-up session, until Gabby goes out to a bar and brings home a different guy, whom she sexes for real and then makes sure Carlos finds them naked in bed together the morning. Tom finally announces that he's settled on a dream: he wants to open a pizza restaurant, news Lynette takes so badly, you'd think he'd announced a desire to go into organ harvesting, or maybe organ grinding. Snora encourages Lynette to put her foot down with Tom, and Tom is wounded by Lynette's lack of support. Snora sneakily tells Tom how much she supports his big Pizza Plan. In other words, Snora is after Tom in a serious way. Fab Ab Austin sob-stories Julie into writing an English paper for him, but when Julie finds out that he slept with one of her friends, she swaps out the paper for one that gets him a D-. Oh, and also: the woman's body that the police found buried at Orson's club? It turns out she had Mike's phone number written in pen on her arm. Maybe she just had a plumbing emergency? The kind that gets you dead?
Previously: all last week's hijinks; plus there's a new unexplained dead body in Fairview; Lynette promised to stand behind Tom in sickness and in health, through good times and bad, and whatever foolhardy idea Tom came up with for his career.
Today's MAVO theme is "The Art Of Sabotage." To illustrate her point, MAVO tours us through a nice sampling of suburban underhandedness. The bitter overweight woman who tempts her similarly-overweight-yet-on-a-diet friend with a freshly baked bundt cake. The wife who cuts the cable just as all her husband's friends pile in for the big game. Mrs. McCluskey phoning in a complaint to the "city's zoning department" about a neighbor's fantastically huge pig. And down at "El Royale Motel," Bree is trying to sweet-talk the manager, Gus, into letting her pay a surprise visit to the room of Mr. Falati (né Fallutti, per my hardness of hearing of last week, one thousands apologies). Gus resists until Bree smilingly puts the screws in: was Gus not aware that the girl in there with Mr. Falati is a tender and sweet seventeen years of age? Gus, not at all interested in getting tangled up in a statutory-rape case, grabs the room key.
Outside Room 17, Gus questions Bree about whether she's packing, citing the "new carpet" he just laid in the room. Bree, standing there with her scary forceful smile and ramrod posture and little salmon-hued cardigan, assures Gus that she's merely there to reason with the May-December lovebirds. Gus shakes his head and unlocks the door. Bree goes inside, and much squawking can be heard -- lots of "how could you"s and "what makes you think"s. Mid-storm, Bree lets herself back outside -- using a tissue to protect herself with whatever nastiness covers the knob -- and Gus asks her how it went. Bree smiles and assures him that all is well. Then, reaching out to give Gus's arm a squeeze, she compliments him on the carpet in the room. Welcome back, Season 1 Bree. Your prim and absurd politeness and hype detail-oriented-ness were sorely missed.
, MAVO serves up a montage of TV dinners. From a POV from inside the microwave, we see Julie, then Carlos, then a nose-picking Parker, then Edie each removing their cardboard dinners. It may, or may not, be of interest to know that the boards were on fire about the fact that not one person in this montage used potholders to remove their sad, sad dinners from within the microwaves. And while I actually do use my bare hands to remove dinners just like these, I do so only with the heels of my hands. And Edie, Julie, Carlos, Parker -- they're just grabbing those molten things without even a wince. So, with a nod to Potholdergate, I do declare this montage a true missed opportunity. They could have gone all Stanislavsky on those prop TV dinners' asses, performed a Method meltdown about the burning, oh the terrible burning. But this is Desperate Housewives, the land where only the STDs burn.
Anyway, the whole sad frozen montage was really just a flimsy device to provide contrast for that happiest of happy homemakers, Bree, who leans into not a microwave but an actual oven to remove a gorgeous and not at all frozen (and yet not at all steamy, either) roasted "spring lamb." Bree, of course, uses potholders. The table is laid with all sorts of little condiments, sauces, a platter of olives...no detail has been overlooked. Danielle is sitting there, her arms folded across her chest, teenager-style. Bree comments on Danielle's still-full plate, and Andrew yuks, "She doesn't like spring lamb, she prefers old goat." Orson snorts into his glass, thereby earning himself five more points on the Orson May Be A Sociopath, But I Like Him scale. Danielle puffs and pouts. Orson points out that Danielle's aged paramour is married, and Danielle brats that he's getting a divorce. They bicker back and forth, and then Danielle goes for the classic "I hate you, I hate all of you!," and then throws her plate of spring lamb across the room, where it smashes against a wall. Bree, to Orson: "Remind me to buy paper plates. We'll need them until a certain someone can be trusted with china again."
Casa What Color Is My Parachute. Tom is throwing pizza dough into the air with his fists, and I must say, he's doing a passable job at it. Very authentic. Lynette comes home from work, and Tom sits her down. He pulls a fresh pizza out of the oven and puts it in front of her, pours her a glass of wine, and announces that he's decided on his dream. Lynette can't stand the suspense: "What's the dream?" Tom: "You're eating it." And that dream is for Tom to become the owner and operator of a family-style pizza parlor. Lynette is less than thrilled. And I'm not sure how I feel: on one hand, if you love a person, and he has this thing he wants to try, then really I think you should do whatever it takes to help make that idea a success. Especially if you, say, promised to support your husband no matter what his idea was. Like how great would it be if right now Lynette just pulled out a whiteboard and started brainstorming logos or taglines or whatever. "Scavo's Pizzeria: It's What (Tom's) Dreams Taste Like." But instead, Lynette freaks out and opens up another bottle of wine and generally does a terrible job of covering up how non-supportive she feels. I'd be happier to buy her hesitation if Tom had a long history of wacky ideas, but really, we've only seen him in two jobs, both of which Lynette managed to get him fired from. And even if Tom does have a secret, flaky past, then why did Lynette promise her support so unreservedly? Yeah, I think Lynette's in the wrong on this one. Once again.
Carlos is wearing a satin robe, lighting candles, icing champagne, chocolating up strawberries, and slipping the sex mix into the CD player. Gabby walks in. She's carrying her usual handful of shopping bags, and though she's wearing a cute purple leather blazer, her hair is still in that insane Jaclyn Smith cascade. Gabby sure hopes Carlos isn't trying to get into her tight, tight white jeans, because she may be stuck with him in the house until the "divorce is final," but she's not going to put up with all his "cheesy come-ons." Carlos tries to get a word in, but Gabby steamrolls past him, saying that she knows he probably thinks that she's his "soulmate" and that there's a "vacancy in [his] heart" the exact size and shape of Gabby, blah blah blah. She's just finished admonishing him to "move on" and "forget" her when she walks into the bathroom and, surprise, discovers the tub full of bubble bath and also one bubbly blonde named "Trishelle." Carlos goes to introduce the two ladies, pretending to falter over Gabby's name. Gabby sighs and turns to leave, and the "I Wonder How Much Carlos Paid for That Hooker" music swells!
Speaking of sexy CDs: down at Coma Junction, Susan is trying to jumpstart Mike's memories with some Sounds Of The 70s. Susan sets the scene: one night, down at Mike's favorite fishtaurant "Cappy's," the house band played, and that's how they found their song. Susan hits the remote -- I guess Edie left her beatbox at the hospital after all? -- and "Car Wash" starts to play. By the way, I checked: Car Wash is by someone by the name of "Rose Royce," which is a pretty awesome name. Like "Gnarls Barkley," only better. And yet still not quite as awesome as the name of my favorite Roller Derby girl, "Injure Rogers." Which really is the most great stage name every created. In fact, for the rest of this recap, I want you guys to call me Injure Rogers in your heads. So Susan does this funny and sweet little dance along to "Car Wash," with pointing thumbs and the disco roll, and Mike stares at her like a bored mummy. And just like that, I'm on Susan's side again, the poor, goofy idiot. Cranky Mike clicks the remote and snaps off the music; then he asks Susan to leave, citing fatigue and also a "head ache." Susan gathers up her stuff, pluckily telling him she refuses to "give up": he's going to remember that night down at the fish hole, if only because the night culminated in some fish holing of a different kind.
Fairview's finest Ghostbuster is eating a nasty cup of chili when the Quincy walks in and tosses some stomach turning autopsy photos down on the desk. Ghostbuster Ridley grimaces and puts down his food. Unfazed, the good doctor explains that he's found another clue in the case of the dead woman found on the golf course: she has what appears to be a phone number penned onto her hand. Sadly, the writing is very hard to make out, so the doctor has to "run some more tests" to see if he can figure out the exact number.
Van De Hodge Manor. Andrew, Orson, and Bree are at the tail end of that same meal from before. They're just about to dig into some homemade berry pie when a big glassy crash sounds from upstairs. Bree: "Andrew, would you be a dear and make sure your sister is just breaking her own things?"
Upstairs, Andrew knocks on Danielle's door, and she answers with a loud, haunted house-style groan. He walks into the bathroom and finds her lying in the tub. A bottle of bath salts is shattered on the floor, and there's an open bottle of prescription pills on the lip of the tub. She also made the teensiest slice in her wrist, and there's a clean towel and a razor blade sitting there. Danielle opens her eyes just long enough to make sure Andrew's watching, and then she shuts her eyes and groans in fake pain. Andrew rubs his head and says, "Yeah, I'll tell them."
Downstairs, Bree is right in the middle of telling Orson a story about refusing to buy a present for some woman's daughter's baby shower: "You know my policy: no husband, no baby gift." Bree's heart is made of generosity and nougat. Andrew tries to interrupt, but Bree chastises him and goes on with her story. Andrew is all like, okay, and he sits down and eats his pie. It kind of seems like the raw and exposed and questioning Bree of just last week is totally gone now. Don't get me wrong -- I'm glad that the old Bree is back in action -- but I wish it wasn't totally at the expense of that nascent bond she had going with Andrew last week. So Bree finishes her story, and Andrew is finally allowed to report Danielle's suicide attempt, news he delivers very casually -- so casually that it takes about ten full beats before it sinks in, and Orson and Bree leap into action. Andrew: "No rush. She's not trying that hard."
ER waiting room. Bree and Orson are pacing; Andrew is playing a Gameboy, his feet kicked up. Bree rails at him for being so unconcerned for his sister. Andrew: "She tried to slit her wrists with a spoon; how upset do you want me to be?" "Spoon"? But what about that razor blade she had sitting there? Somehow, drawing blood with a spoon sounds a lot more painful, and more work-intensive than a small slice with a razor blade. But okay, Danielle cut her wrist with a spoon. The ER doctor comes in and reports that Danielle is going to be fine: "Her wounds are fairly superficial." Andrew, cynically: "So's the patient." This time, Orson is totally not laughing along with Andrew's quipping. Not at all. The doctor mentions that, given the nature of her injuries, Danielle's now going to be required to go into counseling. Oh, and also, she's resisting a stomach pump because she says she "only took three sedatives." Andrew devilishly urges the doctor to go ahead and pump her stomach anyway, what with her being far too "disoriented" to know how many pills she really took. Bree snaps at Andrew for urging such an invasive procedure, but then she turns to the doctor and nods, "Pump her." The doctor leaves, and Bree turns on Andrew: "They're sticking tubes down her throat; do you still think this is funny?" I'm not sure why Andrew's getting all the blame here. Wasn't Bree the one who made that dismissive crack about getting paper plates? Andrew explains that Danielle was just making a "half-ass bid for attention." Bree insists it was a "cry for help." Orson stands in the corner, rubbing his head. Bree: "The time, she might try something even more dangerous." Andrew, all scoffy: "Yeah, time she might try jumping off the porch." And that's right about when Orson loses it, just blows his stuffing, screaming, "SUICIDE IS THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN TO A FAMILY. I WILL NOT HAVE IT MADE LIGHT OF." Andrew looks a little startled. Bree grabs Orson's arm and suggests that they all need to support each other. Then she suggests that they all head into counseling. Together. Yeah, I think Orson's head could use a little shrinking right about now. The takeaway: Orson has some terrible and intimate experience with suicide lurking in his dark past. Which means that he and Bree have one more thing in common, what with Bree's exposure to Mary Alice and George's suicides. Though I guess George's suicide was more of a bad gamble. But still.
Snora is stationed at the front window at the Scavos', eavesdropping on Mrs. McCluskey, Gabby, Susan, and Lynette, who are gathered around a table out front, sipping iced tea and rehashing Tom's fiasco of a pizza plan. Mrs. McC: "Might as well stand in a vat of tomato sauce and tear up hundred-dollar bills." Gabby says that Lynette made a promise to Tom, and now she has to "see it through." Lynette: "Yeah. How's that divorce going?" Gabby, meekly: "I'm done talking." I don't know, Gabby, what was it that lawyer on Hill Street Blues used to call her husband? Pizza Man? Because "he delivers"? That sounds like something you could get behind, Gabs. And underneath. And on top of. Mrs. McC offers that "men are genetically incapable of realizing [that] their dreams are stupid." Then she launches into this odd and funny story about how she tried to stomp on her husband's dreams to be a painter in Paris, and he "despised" her for the rest of his life. Lynette finds the story upsetting, but then Mrs. McC adds that she was also sleeping with her husband's brother, and maybe that played a supporting role in the hatred. The ladies exchange meaningful "Old Ladies Have Sex?" glances. Snora comes outside, pulls Lynette off to the side, and tells her that she heard what they were saying about the pizza plan, and that Lynette absolutely has to put her foot down. Lynette reiterates that part about how Tom will hate her for it. "Well, you better do sumpin," says Snora, "because if you don't, you and me will wind up working a pole to pay for braces." Well, if it did come to that, Lynette would probably pull in quite a pretty penny, from what I remember of the famous bar-top "Boogie Shoes" dance.
Austin crosses the street to talk to Julie. He's carrying a handful of daisies, which he's ripped from the ground like a caveman. Unlike a caveman, however, he's wearing the cutest t-shirt ever made: olive green with tree roots and birdies. (A little research reveals that it's the Brown Sound Fly Lower Tee, whatever that means, from Urban Outfitters.) Julie is standing there talking to her friend, "Sara," who is played by the one and only Mae Whitman, the actress who played George Michael's straight-laced girlfriend, Ann Veal, on Arrested Development. Sigh, it's always such a sweet thrill to discover one of theArresteds making a surprise appearance. I guess Marc Cherry made some friends when he appeared on Arrested Development as himself. Our Ann, however, does not look herself: she is wearing an off-the-shoulder '80s shirt, big white plastic earrings, and plastic bangle bracelets. It's as though Delia's, Forever 21, and Alloy collided and she got plastered with the debris. Sarann is instantly smitten with Austin, but Julie is still very, very frosty -- even after he gives her the flowers, which he claims to have purchased. Julie: "Generally, when you buy flowers, they don't still have the roots on them." Austin breezes right past that observation and asks Julie for help on his English paper, seeing as Edie's going to boot him out of her house if he flunks. They bicker, but finally he agrees to her tutoring rate of $15 an hour. He heads back to Edie's, but turns back to say, "I charge $15 an hour to make out, so I'll probably break even." Julie rolls her eyes, but Sarann is just eating it up with a suicide spoon.
Tutor time. Julie's room features an odd assortment of items, and they really run the gimlet. She's got her initials hanging on the wall, all done up in pink and green, which is something a ten-year-old would have. And then she's got one of those Cost Plus jointed wood frog puppet things balanced on her headboard, very "fifty-something docent." Meanwhile, Julie's bed is a very, very small twin, about the length and width of a chastity belt. Austin's assignment is to write about Othello, but he's not really that interested in working. He's much more interested in the cheapo beer he brought over. How do you spell "classy"? With a can. When Julie puts up a stink, Austin launches into some sob story, claiming the reason he got kicked out of his house was that he cracked his mom's boyfriend over the head with a chair when the guy started hitting her, and because she didn't want to be alone, she pressed charges against Austin, not the boyfriend. So Austin took off. Julie, whose heart is made of marshmallow and rainbows, totally falls for the story, so she tells him to go rest on her bed while she gets his paper started for him. Boy, she fell for that far too easily for such a supposedly smart girl. Though maybe she just has a blind spot for wounded-bird boys? That's the way the whole Zana situation got started, right?
Okay, who didn't see this coming? Gabby retaliates for Carlos's little date with Bubbles by lining up a date of her own, but she really goes for the jugular: she picks "Phil Lopez," Carlos's business rival and two-time winner of the "Latino Businessman Of The Year Award." Carlos is suitably enraged: "Phil Lopez? I had no idea you hated me that much." Gabby, smiling: "Well, now you know." Gabby and Phil grab some martinis and head out to the hot tub.
COMMECIALS. Ellen does some mediating on expensive socks, Folger's has a dubious new "gourmet" coffee on the market, and Volkswagen has made a "v-dub" that doubles as an amp for rockers just like John Mayer (whose guitar-playing talents, according to beau Marco, are "sick"). Buying a car that comes with a guitar? Something about that feels sort of "future gone crazy," like one of the faux-mercials in Robocop. Right?
Casa Little Caesar. Tom is all excited to show Lynette some potential locations for his restaurant, but like the loving, supportive wife she isn't, Lynette takes this opportunity to sit down and reality-check Tom down a few notches. She starts by pitching him her version of his dream: he starts out with Italian-themed catering; and then ("five short years later"), after he builds up a following, he spins it off into very his own restaurant. How about that? Actually, that's not such a bad idea. ["Totally -- no start-up business is more likely to fail spectacularly than a restaurant. Even ones that do end up succeeding are expected to lose money for the first few years." -- Wing Chun] Though I'm not sure how much call there is for pizza in catering, and I think that's the thrust of Tom's whole plan. Restaurant-savvy people on the boards also suggested that taking a job at an actual working restaurant might have been another smart, sensible way to find out how the business works. Tom, on Lynette's catering suggestion: "But that's not my dream." Lynette snaps and tells him flat-out that she thinks he's going to "fail" with his dream, as it stands. And she's just not comfortable "gambling with [their] life-savings." Life savings, what life savings? Didn't Snora clean them out at the end of last season? Lynette cites ye olde statistic that "90% of restaurants tank in their first year." ["See?" -- Wing Chun] Tom, passionately: "Which means that 10% make it. Why don't you ever think that I would be one of them?" And the "Doomed Marriage" music flails.
Gabby and Phil come inside, wearing robes and hot from all their hot hot-tub action. Gabby grabs some grapes from the refrigerator and calls out to Carlos, asking if he would like some "sour grapes." Carlos heads upstairs, slamming the door in his wake. Gabby grabs Phil and yanks him upstairs.
In her room, Gabby commands Phil to move the bed over to the wall nearest Carlos's room, citing "Feng Shui." The second the bed's in place, Gabby starts banging the frame into the wall, screaming, "Yes, yes." Phil is confused. Gabby explains that she thinks he's great, but that she's not into him in a sex-wanting way. He reminds her of all their hot-tub activity. Gabby: "Yes, you saw my boobs. And you're going to have that mental snapshot to use as you wish for the rest of your life." Phil yells that Gabby's "unbelievable," and Gabby screams, "So are you, BIG BOY." Carlos, who can't stand hearing another word, heads out to the front porch, so he's right there when Phil leaves. Phil says something about how Gabby is a "loon": "no wonder" Carlos is divorcing her. Phil can't leave, though: Gabby's car is blocking him in. So Carlos heads inside, looking for Phil's keys, and hears Gabby screaming upstairs, still very much in the flow of her little one-act play. Upstairs, Gabby is flipping through a magazine and yelling something about how Phil needs a "saddle." Carlos taps her on the shoulder: "I need your car keys; you're blocking the stallion's hatchback." Hatchbacks are hatchlarious.
After Gabby comes down and sets Phil free, Carlos teases her, imitating all her "Yes, yes"ing: "'Oh, Phil, fill me with Phil.'" Once he's done with the hilarity, he tells her that she can't hurt him by doing something like that. Gabby, frustrated, begs Carlos to enlighten her: what can she do to hurt him so badly that he'll finally give up on them? "I can't keep doing this," she sighs, tuckered out. Carlos: "But I can. You proved something tonight. You had a rich, good-looking guy in your bed, and you couldn't pull the trigger. That means you still care, and as long as I know that, I can take anything that you dish out." Gabby turns to go inside, softly saying, "Can we talk about this in the morning?" He quietly agrees. Gabby: "But you're bringing me breakfast in bed, or no deal." Carlos laughs, "It's a date."
Mayerville. Julie goes to put a glass in the sink and spies Sarann's car sitting out on Wisteria Lane. Her eyes narrow in suspicion.
Outside, Julie knocks on the car window, which is all steamed up from within. Sarann rolls down the window; her top is all unbuttoned. Sarann giggle-sighs with relief that it's Julie who's come knocking and not the cops. Austin sits up and asks Julie if she's "on buzzkill patrol." Julie, angry and hurt, to Sarann: "This is why you couldn't go to the movies with me?" Sarann tries to apologize, claiming that she didn't know Julie was into Austin. Julie stutters that she totally is not into Austin; she's just upset that Sarann flaked. Sarann: "I would totally understand if you wanted to blow me off for a date." Julie: "You call this a date? Getting mauled in a car?" Austin: "Hey, you want to talk about this later? I'm losing altitude here." And I just threw up in my mouth.
Julie stomps inside her house, and Susan is sitting there, all Christmas-morning excited, gushing, "I think I found a way to get through to Mike." Julie, already totally frustrated and hurt: "Let it go. He's not into you." Wow. And yet...probably very good advice.
And speaking of buzzkill patrol: bright and early the morning, Carlos comes into Gabby's bedroom with his cute breakfast tray piled high with waffles, all smothered in fresh berries and a sprinkling of powdered sugar. ["Carlos: I will marry you." -- Wing Chun] And there's Gabby, naked, lying with some mystery man, who is also naked. Gabby, stretching like a cat, explains that she caught a "second wind last night" and went out to a "bar," where she met "Jason": "We spent the whole night...how did you put it? 'Pulling the trigger.'" Carlos looks confused and crushed, like a little boy who just accidentally let go of a balloon. Gabby: "So did I hurt you? Or should I keep trying?" Well that's a waste of a marriage. And a perfect pile of glistening waffles. ["Seriously. In fact, forget Carlos: I think that breakfast and I could really have a wonderful life together." -- Wing Chun]
COMMERCIALS. Wow, the Hyundai Santa Fe "Life Shapes" spot, with the cirque de wow performers forming together to make silhouette of a car, it's so awesome, it almost makes me want to buy a Hyundai. Almost.
And back to the coma ward. Edie is scooting Mike down the hall and pep-talking how much he "kicked ass" in physical therapy. Fun Mike bitterly drones that all he did was raise his arm up, big wow. The Edie-lover nurse comes up and tells Edie that she has a "phone call." Oh right, that old saw. Susan, impossible to miss in her "clever disguise" of a hat, sunglasses, and trench (what, no rubber nose and attached 'stache?), stands off to the side with her cell phone to her ear. Edie picks up the phone, and Susan sneaks up behind Mike and wheels him away.
Downstairs, Susan loads Mike into the back of a handi-ramped van, along with the help of some guy named "Hank," whom Susan is paying "sixty bucks an hour" to take them on a little tour. Mike, with a robotic lack of enthusiasm: "Oh god, you're not taking me to that fish and disco place, are you?" Susan laughs. I laugh. A security guard steps out of the hospital doors behind, and Susan yells for Hank to "punch it."
Bree, wearing a soft pink cardigan this time (totally different from the coral sweater at the beginning of the episode), knocks on Mr. Falati's door. He looks nervously up and down the hall. She steps inside and gives him a huge hug: she's there to bestow her "blessing" on the happy couple. Bree hauls in two suitcases, one pink and one orange: it's Danielle's things: "I'll bring her CDs and her stuffed animals over tomorrow." Oh, I see what she's doing here. It's like giving the kid who wants to smoke a pack of cigarettes and making him smoke it all until he pukes. Nice. Bree: "I trust you to be discreet; you wouldn't want your wife to find out about this and use it in your divorce." Now, I'm thirty-five, the same age as Mr. Falati here, and I'm trying to imagine what it might be like to date a seventeen-year-old. What would we do, play quarters all day? Practice our sarcasm? That sounds exhausting. Clearly the same line of thought starts to dawn on Mr. Falati, and a note of panic creeps into his voice. He tells Bree to tell Danielle just to forget it, but Bree smartly says that he has to tell her that himself: "And don't even think about blaming me, because if you so much mention that we spoke, I will call the police." His will totally cracked, Falati agrees. As a parting blow, Bree adds, regarding college applications: "I do hope [Danielle] can count on you for a glowing recommendation." Mr. Falati, defeated: "Sure."
Back on Wisteria Lane, Susan is giving Mike a walking tour of their life together, pointing out the bush she fell in when she locked herself out of the house naked. Mike is monotone. Mike is blank. Mike is a complete non-entity. Susan, still brimming with optimism, hops off the curb and into the parking spot where they shared their "first kiss." Mike: "Were you naked then, too?" Well hey there, Captain Fun, was that joke? And yet, still Mike's memory is dead. "Look into your heart," Susan tells him, "because I'm in there." She pushes Mike across the street, over to Mary Alice's house, which you'd think he'd remember, because that was the whole reason he moved to Wisteria Lane, and moving there is what he remembers last. But the thing that actually triggers a memory for Mike is Susan tripping over the curb and hurting her toe. He smiles: "You do that a lot, don't you." He remembers! Susan does a little reprise jig of the "Car Wash" disco. But then Mike asks her to refresh his memory about the "British guy." Susan does a super-lame job of explaining the Ian thing. She starts out by saying that she and Ian are "just friends," which is not exactly honest. After a few beats, she amends the statement with a "now," as in they at one point were more than friends. Then she blunders on that the doctors had little hope of Mike ever waking up, blah blah blah, and she just needed "someone to talk to." Mike, sarcastically: "So is that what you were doing up in the country? Talking?"
Just then, a van from the hospital pulls up, and that mean nurse comes running up. Susan tells Mike to tell the nurse about all the "progress" they were making, and he looks at Susan full in the face and tells the nurse, still not taking his eyes off Susan, to take him "back to the hospital." Edie's standing there, too, looking fine in her short-short shorts and sky-high pumps. Susan goes to run after Mike, but Edie blocks her way. Though, really, what else could she say? Either way you slice it, giving up on the man you love after just six months doesn't sound good. Susan blusters that Edie is "evil," and wonders how she "sleep[s] at night." Edie: "Soon? With Mike on top of me." Susan yells "evil" a few more times. Edie suggests that maybe she and Mike were "meant to be together." The idea strikes Susan as insane: "You don't even want him; you're just doing this to hurt me." Edie gets right in Susan's face and says that she's "had a crush on Mike since the day he moved in here." It's true, Edie has been mooning over Mike for ages now, and I can see how, from her point of view, Susan is kind of a monster. Susan burned down Edie's house (accidentally, but still). Susan ran over Edie. Susan slept with Karl (yes, he manipulated her into it, but still, she slept with a supposed friend's boyfriend the day after they allegedly broke up, which is a total breach of the Friend Code). Then again, Edie did torch Susan's house. You know what, they're both awful. And Mike is boring. Really, they all deserve each other. Is Wisteria Lane ready for some poly-love? And sure, throw in Ian for some British quipping fun.
The Quincy has cracked the phone number. You remember, the one written on the dead, toothless woman's hand? The reason it took so long to crack? The last digit was "barely legible." Couldn't he have just handed over the six legible digits and had the police try the possibilities? That's only ten different phone numbers. But okay. Ghostbuster Ridley dials the number and gets...Mike Delfino Plumbing. I know it's a stretch that Mike's phone would still be turned on, six months later, but can we just say that optimistic Susan paid his bills? Hmm. Does this mean that Orson might have had a legitimate reason for running Mike down in the street?
COMMERCIAL! The Escape Clause, ho, ho, ho? No, no, no.
Austin comes over to Julie's house and flings his paper down onto her lap. There's a big, red "D-" scrawled on top of it. Here's what happened: Julie rewrote his paper and emailed him the lame version, and Austin, who is an idiot, printed it out and turned it in without even reading it over to see if it was the same one she wrote the night he threw his little pity party. Julie and Austin battle back and forth about how she's just lashing out over some "chick thing" about how his penis got elevated with Sarann, which Julie denies vehemently. She's actually just mad at Austin for manipulating her into writing his paper for him. Plus, and she doesn't actually say this, she's also disappointed and hurt by her friend's violation of the Code, which states that friends don't flake on friends over some guy (though of course this code is violated with shameful frequency; in fact, we're all pretty much guilty of it at one point or another). Julie ends the bicker festival with a demand for the $15 he owes her for the tutoring. She wrote two different versions of that paper in just one hour? Julie is a genius. Austin makes some parting quip about how he "did learn something: Iago betrayed Othello because he was jealous." Meaning, of course, that Julie is into Austin. And oh boy I hope not. Because clearly, a liaison between Julie and Austin is going to end in tears -- or even worse, it might be kind of boring.
Bree and Orson are in the kitchen, Bree is trussing a chicken. Literally. Danielle walks in and reports that ancient Robert has dumped her. Bree does a very good job of looking the correct level of surprised by the news. And what did Danielle do? She called the principal of her school and got him fired, and when creepy old Robert called to yell at her, Danielle "recorded the call and sent the tape of it to his wife." So he's getting nothing in his divorce settlement, and essentially his whole life is over. Danielle, looking pretty pleased with herself, trots out of the room. Orson, impressed: "I must say, that was pretty underhanded of her." Bree: "Yes. I wonder where she gets it." The camera lingers meaningfully on Bree as she cuts the extra string on the knot holding the chicken legs together with a decisive snip. What was that? An allusion to cleaning up loose ends? Or maybe just a nod to castration?
Tom drops Kayla off at Snora's. Snora, looking like she spent some serious time getting ready, tells Tom that Kayla told her about his big pizza idea, and that she thinks it's a fantastigreat idea. Did she just...I think she did. Tom hems a bit, all, "Nothing's been decided yet." Snora: "Ah. Lynette put the kibosh on it, huh?" Tom makes some excuses for why Lynette's probably right, but Snora interrupts him to say, "I've tasted your pizza, and it was like I died and went to Italy." ["Oh my, no. Authentic Italian pizza is crap -- thin little crust, a big pile of raw basil, and they don't even cut it! 'Like I died and went to Brooklyn' is more like it." -- Wing Chun] And Tom eats it up, all, "I really needed to hear that." And I just barfed in my mouth again. And let me tell you, barfing up the barf from Austin's "elevation" line is not great. Tom leaves, and Snora stands there smiling and looking smug.
And now, yes, the MAVO montage. The theme, once again, is SABOTAGE.
There's Danielle lying on her bed looking very satisfied, very "cat filled with cream." I guess revenge tastes sweeter than heartbreak? Or maybe -- and I don't want to go out on a limb here, but maybe -- she was never really all that in love with the ancient Robert in the first place. I know, crazy.
And now, back at the hospital, we see Edie sweetly kissing sleeping Mike's head. According to MAVO, Edie is the sort of saboteur who acts out of a "hunger for love." Wow, what? Tonka-tough Edie has a soft, dewy inside that just wants tender companionship? I know, crazy.
Gabby -- whom MAVO describes as "determined to burn bridges" -- lies to her sleeping naked conquest, twirling her hair and looking uncertain. Oh, Gabby, you've really blew it this time. Metaphorically and also, I'm sure, literally.
Snora tucks Kayla into bed. Kayla says she sure wishes daddy Tom would come live with them so that he could be there to tuck her in bed every single night. It's been pointed out on the boards that Kayla acts more like a five-year-old than the eleven she's supposed to be, and I'd have to agree. Anyway, evil Snora says, "I'm working on [getting Tom to move in], Piglet." Forget Edie; Snora is evil. Like "you must pay the rent," finger-mustache evil.
WEEK: Tom kisses Snora (triple mouth barf), and Gabby puts on some fetish-wear. Will she manage to re-ensnare Carlos in her fishnets? Tune in!