By Evany
Bree is wildly interested in sending Orson's mother a Holiday Greeting. After much badgering, Orson -- who clearly has deep, dark mother issues -- reluctantly hands over the address of his mother's nursing home. When Bree discovers that the woman (played by none other than Designing Women's Dixie Carter) lives just thirty minutes away, she invites her over for one of those famously fun Van De Hodge family meals. Over dinner, Orson remorselessly reveals that he's sold his mother's house and all her possessions, which whips Dixie into a rage. Bree invites Dixie to stay with them until they can find her somewhere else to live (Dix hates her nursing home), but Orson puts his foot down...until Dixie pulls Orson aside and threatens to tell Bree the true nature of their mother-son rift. Orson promptly relents. Mommy Dearest is moving in! And another Wisteria mystery is born. Susan catches shirtless Austin and almost-shirtless Julie making out on the couch and forbids them to date. Julie, acting like a teen for the first time ever, ignores her mother and goes off with Austin on the back of his motorcycle, just like an archetypal good girl gone bad. So Susan trots in Karl for some bad-copping, only he turns out to be far more interested in the news that Susan's moved on from Mike, the supposed love of her life, to some guy named Ian. Oh, Karl. Don't you know? This is Wisteria Lane, the land where new love interests pop up almost as fast as the dead bodies do. Gabby decides to get back into modeling, but upon returning to New York, she is shocked to discover that much has changed in the modeling industry. Or, more precisely, the modeling industry hasn't changed at all, but Gabby has; she's in her thirties, and in model-years, that's like 160 or something. After an excruciating scene in which she's forced to play the role of a "disapproving and unsexy mom"-type in a photo shoot, Gabby returns to Fairview, humbled and in need of some serious career guidance counseling. The police get a warrant to search Mike's house, but they don't find the one thing they're looking for: his toolbox. Later, it turns out Mrs. McCluskey's been holding on to it for him. When she returns it, she makes a pointed point of pointing out that there's a wrench inside that could use a little cleaning. A blood-drenched wrench perhaps? Lynette bakes new-neighbor (and local swim coach) Art a cake to thank him for saving her life. When she stops by to deliver said cake, she discovers his front door is already open. (Wisteria Lane: Where the only thing more frequent than dead bodies and new lusts is unbelievable convenience.) Of course Lynette heads right on inside. While she's inside, she discovers lots of kid-friendly toys and also a pedophilic Polaroid shrine of be-bathing-suited boys in Art's basement. That Art, he sure did move in fast.
Previously: Bang!
This week's MAVO montage opener is all about Mrs. McCluskey and how she just loves to help people -- even people who don't especially want any help. Mrs. McC pointedly paints a neighbor's long-faded garage door an unbecoming blue. Mrs. McC pointedly returns a missing cat to cat lady Alberta after first taking the liberty of getting the cat fixed. Mrs. McC pointedly takes down another neighbor's Christmas lights, which apparently were still strung up deep into June.
In the now, Mrs. McC is letting herself into Mike's garage when Edie busts her. Halloween appears to have come a few weeks too late for Edie, who is wearing a sort of "sexy cat burglar meets Emma Peel" outfit of fitted head-to-toe black with a bondage-cinched belt in gleaming patent leather. Edie, who's there getting the house ready for Mike's return the day, suspiciously grills Mrs. McC as to what she's doing there. Mrs. McC hems and haws. Edie: "Don't lie to me, prune." Apparently, Mrs. McC's been borrowing Mike's lawnmower on a regular basis, but now Edie's putting a stop to it. But clever Mrs. McC drops some hints about the photos that she found in Mike's trash -- the ones of Susan and Mike all lovey-dovey together -- and how would Edie like it if Mrs. McC were to show them to Mike?
Cut to Mrs. McC happily wheeling the mower over to her lawn. Oh, Mrs. McC, Mrs. McC, don't you know what happens to blackmailers on Wisteria Lane?
CREDITS!
A group of off-brand Girl Scouts are gathered on Wisteria Lane, rallying for the kickoff of their big door-to-door magazine sale campaign. MAVO tells us that a "shiny new bicycle" has been promised to whichever girl sells the most subscriptions. MAVO: "That's the beauty of youth: little girls believe anything's possible. That is, until they grow up and get divorced." One of the fauxscouts arrives on Gabby's doorstep and finds Gabby out on the porch, doing her nails, her face elaborately made up with nightclub smoky eye. Poor Gabby. The girl launches her sell-spiel, but mispronounces Vogue as "Vo-gew," which Gabby promptly corrects. She should know how to say it; after all, she graced its cover! You remember, it was their very special "little person" issue? Because really there's no other explanation for a model of Gabby's Lilliputian stature appearing on the hallowed cover of Vogue. The fauxscout is totally impressed.
Cut to Gabby and the fauxscout poring over the pages of Gabby's old modeling portfolio. Gabby's sipping on a glass of wine, and the fauxscout has a wineglass full of milk. Gabby points out a "genuine ocelot fur" she's wearing in one shot, "although the photographer was the real animal, if you know what I'm saying," Gabby adds, nudge, nudge. Wait a second, Gabby wore a coat made out of this? Gabby is Cruella DeVile. Incidentally, some of you may have heard the rumor that this episode features a hugely creepy scene in which a pedophile turns up on Wisteria Lane. Despite all evidence to the contrary, this is not that scene. No, no, the worst is still yet to come. Gabby catches herself after her creepy innuendo and tacks on a "which I hope you don't [know what I'm saying]. And don't do drugs." Fauxscout asks Gabby if she's ever going to model again, and Gabby dismissively dismisses the idea. Fauxscout: "Why not? What else are you going to do?" Cue the "Kids Are Conduits Of Truth And Also Pain" music.
Gabby, Susan, and Bree are gathered on Lynette's porch. Gabby has just announced that she's flying back to New York to see if she can reignite her glam model career. Bree and Susan are sad; they don't want Gabby to move. Gabby describes a "hole in [her] life that can't be filled by shopping." Gabby has the insight of a guru. ["I hope I never encounter a hole that big and scary." -- Wing Chun]
Tom pulls up with Lynette; she's been discharged from the hospital, her arm still in a sling. The ladies all gather 'round and coo. Gabby: "Taking a .38 slug to the shoulder agrees with you." In hushed tones, Lynette confesses that she and Tom have decided to keep the details of the incident from the P kids; Lynette has concocted a story, and told them that "Kayla is staying with her grandmother." Hmm. I wonder-worry if, by shuttling Kayla off to some never-before-mentioned grandmother, this means that Kayla has gone the way of Bongo the dog? The little P squad rushes out to greet Lynette. "I can't believe you got in a fight with a hobo," the biggest P trills in an clumsy attempt to get the plot moving. The adults all exchange puzzled glances. Lynette, by way of explaining the lame attempt at an excuse: "Yeah, well, let's see how well you do on a morphine drip." The last time I was on morphine, I sat all the way through Ice Bound (the made-for-television movie about the North Pole, which I turned out to have nothing to do with penguins and everything to do with breast cancer), so I'm going to have to vote with Lynette on this one: morphine melts your mind. Everyone heads inside for a nice welcome-home lunch...
...but Lynette spies hero neighbor Art out watering his lawn. Lynette taps Art on the shoulder and delivers very heartfelt, very choked-up thanks for saving her life last week, and she vows to bake him a cake as a demonstration of her gratitude, which she explains is "huge" since she never bakes cakes. I'm sure that thing is going to taste just great, then. Can't Lynette do something nice for Art, like hire Bree to bake him a cake?
Hacienda Ho-Ho-Hodge. Bree's got the Christmas carols playing and Andrew's been enlisted to help fold the "family newsletter" into the handmade Christmas cards, while Bree addresses the envelopes. Orson: "Christmas cards already? It's not even Thanksgiving." Really, Bree. Sending out cards before the last traditional turkey sandwich has been gobbled is actually kind of rude. And to really gleam the cube, Bree's actually adding a sprinkling of metallic confetti to each envelope, which really just blows. When you're expecting just a safe, regular Seasons Greeting card and instead you unleash a spray of tiny pieces of crap all over your life? Merry, merry Christmas (in November)! Now go grab that Dustbuster! ["Yes, I am shocked that Bree would be so gauche." -- Wing Chun] Andrew snarks that the newsletter Bree's concocted is packed full of lies. Bree: "Nobody wants to read the truth at Christmas." Orson: "Well said, darling." Bree sends Andrew off to switch the music and then grills Orson for his mother's address, but he tries to put her off by explaining that his mom is too gaga to appreciate a card: "She'll only try to dunk it in her coffee." But Bree insists, and finally he relents. Turns out Mama Hodge is living in a home just a half-hour's drive away. Bree is shocked that they haven't visited her, considering their proximity. Orson, his "anger management" techniques wearing thin: "Bree! I refuse to sit in a room that smells of disinfectant and lime Jell-O and make small talk with a woman who doesn't remember me. Now let it go, dammit!" As Bree stares at Orson, shocked by his outburst, the merry strains of "Sleigh Ride" jingle forth from the family stereo.
Susan and Ian are back from dinner, and Susan is fretting that Julie is going to know that they cut out of dinner early out of worry for Julie's well-being (re: last week's near-death experience), and Susan doesn't want to seem "overprotective and clingy": "It's been a week; I'm getting on her nerves." Ian and Susan concoct a tale about the food being so terrible at the restaurant that they staged a walkout. But then, as Susan points out, how to explain the tinfoil swan of leftovers that she is so desperately clutching? Is that a nod to Gladstone's in Malibu? Because that's the only restaurant I've ever eaten at that shapes its leftovers into statues of waterfowl. Susan and Ian brainstorm some more about what excuse they're going to give as they walk up to the house, but it turns out they don't even need an excuse, because when they walk in, Austin and Julie are making out on the couch. Austin is, of course, topless, but not at all "of course" are the buttons to Julie's top, which are distinctly not buttoned! Susan rants, Susan raves, Susan orders Austin to put his shirt back on. But he can't: he arrived shirtless. Of course. Hey wait a second, is Austin wearing military-issue dog tags? Does he have a secret past in the armed services? Oh, wait. Austin leaves, and Julie screeches at her mother for laying into Austin. Why, if not for that walking torso, she could be dead by now! Susan asks for Ian's opinion on the matter, and he actually sides with Julie and the whole "two people in a crisis" line of thought, but then he sees where his support of Julie is going to leave him with Susan, i.e., not inside her pants, and he downshifts abruptly and tsks Julie for being a "very naughty girl." Susan grounds Julie for two weeks and forbids her to see Austin. Julie, like the rational woman her mother so is not: "Mom, I like this guy, and I'm sorry if it makes you unhappy, but I'm going to keep seeing him."
Sigh, the walking plank is back. Edie ushers Mike inside, making sure that he sees the provocative photo of herself that she's framed and planted on his mantle. The dank, blank Mike is disappointed because he doesn't recognize anything. Edie hugs him and then sorely tempts the fates by saying that the "worst's behind [him]."
And the fates answer with extreme promptness: down at the police station, Ghostbuster Ridley talks a sassy lawyer from the district attorney's office into helping him to get a search warrant for Mike's house, based on his phone number being written on Monique's hand along with fragments of a special specific plumber's pipe wrench being found in her head wound.
Gabby walks in to her former agent's office, and the agent (played by none other than Debra Monk, the snarky mother of the anorexic star ballerina in Center Stage) is just finishing up a phone call with someone about some other model. "What do you mean?" she is scolding her caller. "If you can airbrush her acne, you can airbrush her track marks. Now don't call me again unless she ODs." Is it me, or is this show getting darker than ever before? Maybe it's just the daylight savings shift. Gabby comments on how well the agent is looking, and she trills in response that she's getting some face-filling product smuggled in from over the border: "Isn't it fun? I have my own drug mule!" Gabby has some "fun news" of her own: she's ready to re-take the modeling plunge. The agent wonders what happened to the "prince charming," the one Gabby gave up her career for way back when? Gabby, looking slightly shamed, shrugs and just says, "Divorce." Agent: "Aw. Single again. Isn't that ironic? Since I'm the one you called -- how did you put it? -- a 'career-obsessed lesbo who would die alone with her cats.'" Uh oh, me looks like the yellow brick road back to modeling is going to be paved with a whole lot of grovel. And in fact, that's just what the agent suggests: "I'm still not sure. You know what might help? If you groveled?" Gabby: "Are you serious?" Agent just stares at Gabby blankly. Gabby: "Well, uh, I can't tell. Because your face doesn't move." Agent, her face a frozen mask, cries that she is indeed joking. They hug. Gabby's back! Back in the New York groove.
Down at he Home of Alienated Mothers, a bunch of whiteheads are sitting around, gleefully playing with balloon animals. Bree sweeps up to a dignified woman with a coiffure of salt and pepper hair and starts doing that thing Americans in Paris do when trying to communicate with the natives: using volume in an attempt to break through the language barrier. Only the woman Bree's speaking to (Designing Women's Dixie Carter) isn't French. Nor is she deaf, or dim (television's two other favorite reasons for being talked to loudly and slowly). Why she's the one, the only, Gloria Hodge. Gloria waves Bree down in close, and drolly says to her: "Why are you talking to me like I'm a moron?" It turns out the impression that Orson gave Bree -- that Gloria was in the "final stages of dementia" -- was not at all accurate. Gloria dishes that she and Orson have a "way of disappointing each other." Specifically, Orson is "cold, rigid, and utterly incapable of letting go of the past." And for her part, Gloria "refuse[s] to die." Bree wonders if the mother-son relationship is really beyond repair, and Gloria goes all melodramatic about how sad people in the nursing home think of nothing but redoing the past, and if Bree would be so kind as to pass along her many regrets to Orson...? She trails off, allowing her head to slump into the crook of her elbow. And look who's coming to dinner: G-L-O-R-I-A!
Tom and wounded-wing Lynette are waiting for the Ps to get off the school bus. In a faint nod to continuity (remember how Lynette spent all of Season 2 whining that she couldn't take off any time from work?), Lynette is just getting off the phone with boss Ed, who apparently just told her to take all the time she needs before coming back to work. And that's with pay. It looks like the agency can run fine without her after all! And just think, Ed pushed Tom out of his job because he thought Lynette was indispensable. The second the kids get off the bus, they start grilling Lynette that a kid named "Jordan" (the son of Jackie's killer maybe?) said that she'd been shot, and that "Auntie Nora" got shot DEAD. Yeah...I'm not sure how Tom and Lynette actually thought the story wouldn't work its way back to the kids, what with the shooting being on the news and everything. Lynette apologizes for pulling the wool over her kids' eyes, and Tom rushes to point out that Mommy's totally a-okay, and that they'll be seeing Auntie Snora in "heaven." Lynette: "Or wherever" (i.e., Hell). The kids react to the news pretty differently: the P-twins do that thing that kids do where they get super into the tragedy (asking to see the bullet, etc.); meanwhile, Older P pulls a Susan and gets all overprotective and clingy. "What if the crazy lady comes back?" he creaks worriedly. Tom: "She's up in heaven." Lynette: "Or wherever."
Julie, on the back of Austin's motorcycle, straps on a helmet. Susan comes running outside, screaming, and Austin punches it. Susan spies Edie, taking out the trash while wearing an improbable silver satin sheath-dress with cute little belt detail. Hysterical Susan comes scolding up, wagging her finger and yelling that Edie needs to keep Austin away from Julie. God, what is she talking about? How could anyone not know that forbidding teens to see one another is like smearing down a toy with catnip and then ordering the cat not to touch it. And that's basically what Edie says. Susan, shrewishly: "Are you crazy? If we don't do something, those two could end up having sex!" Edie: "Could? Let me put it this way. I've got a box of condoms in my dresser? Eleven are gone; I can only account for eight of them." I guess Mike's wooden qualities finally have found their calling. Right on cue, Mike hobbles out on his cane, saying something flounderish about needing help with his tie (he and Edie are off for a fancy meal to celebrate his release...from the hospital, dirty!). Susan looks all surprised and hurt to discover that Mike's home and she didn't even know it, and Edie rubs Susan's face in the sting by saying that two people who are "meant to be together" -- ostensibly Julie and Austin, but secretly Mike and Edie -- can't be kept apart. And then Edie pointedly goes inside to be with Mike. Susan stands there, carping.
Casa Post-Traumatic Stress. Lynette is giving Mrs. McC the babysitting rundown, telling her to "try and push apples" for snack, but in case of emergency, there's a "candy bar under the sink." Mrs. McC, cramming chocolate in her mouth: "Not anymore you don't." Big P asks Lynette where she's going, all worried, and when she tells him she's heading to the market, he dives for her legs, all freaked out that Lynette's going to get shot again. "Can't she go?" he says, pointing at Mrs. McC. The old lady grabs Lynette's shopping list and heads for the door, pausing to stoop down and say, "You don't give a hoot if I get shot, do ya, kid?"
Photo shoot. Gabby's hair is all swept up in curlers for her big re-grand opening. Sitting to her is a young model who looks not at all unlike a young Bernadette Peters. For some creepy reason, Gabby starts regaling the girl with modeling tips (using that exact same loud "American in Paris" tone), telling the young thing not to be nervous, et cetera. The girl rolls her eyes and smugly says, "I've been modeling for two years. I've done six magazine covers, and I'm sleeping with Dirkin [the photographer]." A wardrobe troll-woman rolls up with a rack of clothing, and Gabby jumps on a pretty green dress. The troll grabs it out of her hands. "This is for Tanya [the young slip of a model]. The 'Mom Stuff' is at the end." Gabby gives the troll the big Spock eyebrow.
Cut to Gabby, her hair in a prim bun. She's wearing a bib-apron over a matronly white shirt buttoned all the way up to heaven. On the "Methods of Birth Control and their Effectiveness" scale, I'd say this outfit falls somewhere between a diaphragm (with its 20% rate of pregnancy) and a condom (14%). Dirkin is getting the crew all pumped up for the shot. "The concept," he announces, "is 'lock up your daughters.'" And then he instructs Gabby and some dad-looking guy to stand off to the side, looking "scandalized." Gabby introduces herself, but he doesn't recognize her. Gabby, her brow very furrowed, and her whole face looking very much like she's someone's mom: "Gabrielle Marquez? You shot me in Milan, remember?" Dirkin -- in a hurry, obviously -- says something vaguely polite about how nice it is to see Gabby again, and he asks if maybe Gabby has a question for him? Or something? Why yes, Gabby does. She wonders if, since clearly no one's going to "buy" her as the other model's mother, maybe she should play the part of the sexy older sister, "home from college to raise a little hell"? Dirkin: "And we're going to cram all that on a subtitle, are we?" It's just that Gabby hates her outfit, which she describes as "hideous." Dirkin tells her to just Tim Gunn it. So Gabby goes off and redoes her outfit: she takes down her hair, removes her apron and somehow converts it into a sarong skirt and bikini top, and ties her shirt up into a midriff-revealing knot. Dirkin: "What's that?" Gabby: "Oh! I made it work: I'm 'Hot Mom.'" Dirkin is enraged. He buttonholes some assistant and hisses, "Get me her agent." Meanwhile, Gabby just stands there, preening, as the "It's All Downhill From Here" music swells. You know how when you go to a family wedding and your mom gets a little drunk and takes off her shoes starts hippie-kick dancing and mussing her hair all sexily right in front of the band? Now close your eyes. Let that embarrassment flow over you. Is your spine curved into the cringe of a reluctant question mark? Then you've just about captured the excruciating mood of this scene.
Casa Rebel, Rebel. Susan sits down Julie and Austin and offers them cookies. You see, she explains, she's "much more comfortable playing the good cop" when it comes to parenting. And look! Here comes the bad cop: Karl rolls up in his red convertible. Karl, to Susan about Austin: "That the guy?" Susan, with more fate-tempting glee: "Yeah! Get 'im!"
Outside, Karl gestures wildly while Austin stands there calmly with his arms crossed. Inside, Susan says to Julie: "Face it, I outsmarted you." I hear hubris is really good on pita bread. Karl come charging back inside: "Who's Ian?" he asks Susan. Turns out Karl is way more perturbed by the fact that Susan's moved on from Mike to Ian, seeing as Karl let Susan go based on the assumption that he was freeing her to be with her one "true love." Susan tries to get Karl back on topic by asking him to picture Austin's hand up Julie's shirt, ew. But Karl will not be deterred. He's a little wounded bird boy who's lost his sparkly crush. He petulantly asks how "serious it is with this Ian guy?" Somehow I just don't buy Karl being so free and easy with his pique; engineering a confrontation between a doctor and a plumber and then sitting back to laugh and then pick up the pieces is so much more his style. What a waste of Karl that scene was. Julie and Austin play up the salacious elements of the story: Julie dishes that Ian's actually married, Austin dishes that the poor wife is in a coma. Karl to Susan: "That's it, I forbid you to see this guy!" Susan scoffs. Julie, clearly with a future in the law: "Mom has a point, Dad, you can't tell a woman who [sic] she can and can't date." Susan: "Exactly! Wait, no."
Casa Scared-y P. Lynette and Big P are sitting on the porch together, P is reading a comic books. The P-twins run by, wearing helmets and carrying fake guns. They appear to be playing a delightful Grocery Store Shoot 'Em Up game; that's one way to process. Lynette encourages Big P to join in the gun-toting fun, but he prefers to stay glued to Lynette's side. Lynette spies hero neighbor Art moving some boards around in his front lawn.
Cut to Lynette, over in Art's yard again. She has a favor to ask of him. She tells him how her kids are struggling to get over the whole supermarket crisis. Just then, the P-twins walk by. P-twin One to P-twin Two: "You're my hostage. Keep moving or I'll blow your face off." Lynette laughs, "Not so much them, but my other son." Um, Lynette? I'm not entirely sure that you're giving the P-twins' behavior the attention it deserves? I'd say that all your kids are doing some serious processing.
Cut to Scared-y P, sitting on the couch, still reading his comic book. Lynette and Art come in, and she introduces the neighbor to P: "His sister has the cool wheelchair with the joystick?" P gives Art a listless "hi." Lynette: "In the daytime, Art coaches swimming at the Rec Center. But..." she turns to Art, "Please can I tell Parker? Please?" Art: "And compromise my secret identity? No way, Mrs. Scavo." That gets little Big P's attention. Lynette explains that Art was the one who saved her life, thanks to his superpowers. P is doubtful. Art declares that he's "Protector Man," and he pulls open the snaps on his shirt to reveal a t-shirt with a big orange "P" on the front. Little P is very impressed. Lynette explains that Parker need not worry about her anymore, seeing as she's under the protection of a superhero. Parker runs outside to play. Art explains to Lynette that the handy t-shirt is from Purdue. Much ballyhoo was made on the boards over the fact that the orange of the P is not one of Purdue's colors, so maybe that "P" stands for something else. "Pervert" perhaps? "Pedophile"? "Predator"? But I get ahead of myself.
Casa Boring Board. Edie pulls up in Mike's truck, and Mike hobbles out of the passenger door. The fuzz is there in full force; looks as though they got that search warrant. Unfortunately, the cops can't seem to find the one thing they're looking for: Mike's toolbox. As the lawmen mutter to one another in frustration, Mrs. McC, who's out raking leaves in front of her house, listens in.
Back at the Photo shoot of Punishment, Gabby's agent marches in and promptly informs Gabby that she is "nothing." It's okay for young model Tanya to pull the "diva crap" because she's the "star." Clueless Gabby: "Where do you get off talking to me like that? I shot thirty covers by the time I was twenty!" Agent reminds Gabby that she's now "thirty," and Gabby frowns. Agent: "When you make that face, you look thirty-five." Gabby makes a last-ditch attempt at pulling some diva shit, citing the many photographers who would kill to shoot her...with their cameras, but Agent snarks that she had to pull major strings just to get Gabby this gig. After a lecture about how the modeling world has "moved on" ever since Gabby gave it all up for her suburban dream, Agent commands Gabby to get her "polyester ass" onto the set and "act like the pro" that Gabby once was.
Cut to Gabby, back in the prophylactically frumpy outfit (oh man, I missed the turquoise genie pants before; that's an excellently heinous touch) as the cameras snap. Gabby's holding a plate of cookies, Tanya's vamping it up in a cocktail dress, and there are three young swains lurking in the background. I'm not at all sure what this ad is for -- probably something vaguely embarrassing, like a new nether moisturizer. Or maybe an allergy medication? Because, wow, those ads never make sense; remember the one with the woman windsurfing through wheat fields?
Nosy Mrs. McC rings the doorbell over at Mike's now cop-free house. As usual, he opens the door in four-point-six nanoseconds. Mike has trouble placing Mrs. McC at first: isn't her house the one with all the gnomes out front? Mrs. McC: "You're thinking of Martha Huber. Terrible story, someone beat her to death and then buried her in the forest. Ironic, huh: isn't that where gnomes live?" Mike: "I...don't really know that much about gnomes." And for once his leaden delivery actually improves his lines; saying "gnomes" is somehow funnier when it comes from a dead robot. Anyway, Mike once did Mrs. McC a solid and drove her to the hospital when she had an angina attack, so now she's returning the favor: she hands over his toolbox, the very toolbox the cops were searching for high and low: "Oh, and you might want to wash that wrench off, it's got something on it." Monique's blood, perhaps? The "Hilarious Suppression of Evidence" music trills.
Oh right, the Orson mom story. For some strange reason, I'm not that into this storyline, which is weird because I sure do love that Dixie. So Mama Hodge is over for dinner, and Orson is very not amused by her surprise appearance. You'd think Bree, with her own strained relationships with both her stepmother and mother-in-law, would know better than to spring Orson's mother on him. Orson calls Bree into the kitchen for a Whisperence (we're friends, right? So I can do that, conflate "whisper" and "conference"?): "You don't know her. She's a loathsome woman...and I refuse to break bread with her." Bree, with the full force of her experience as a jilted mother: "The fifth commandment tells us to honor our parents no matter how hideous or repellent they may be." Orson takes issue with her liberal interpretation of the commandments (the fifth commandment is actually more along the lines of "Thou shalt not bow down thyself to them, nor serve them: for I the LORD thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me"), but he finally agrees to sit down to dinner.
Dinner. Conversation is extremely tense and stilted. Mama Hodge compliments Bree on her glorious salmon, and Bree gushes that the recipe actually won her an award at the "Gourmet County Cookoff." MH asks Bree what gives the sauce that "kick," and Bree gives a "naughty-naught" ah-ah-ah, and then says, "You never ask a magician how a trick is done." Bree chuckles. Mama Hodge chuckles. Ugh. Orson pouts at the other end of the table. Mama Hodge asks Orson if everything's okay. And that's when Orson cuts loose with the vitriol: why is she here and what does she want? Mama Hodge comes clean: she wants out of that "hell hole" of a retirement home. Unfortunately, as Orson very gleefully informs her, she has no home to go back to: he sold it, along with all her possessions: "That's the thing about hell holes: they don't pay for themselves." Mama Hodge stands and thumps her fist on the table, screaming, "How dare you! You have no right!" Bree, horrified: "Okay! Maybe I will share my secret ingredient!" Mama Hodge, completely ignoring Bree's attempt to make nice, tells Orson, "I should have smothered you in your crib when I had the chance." Bree, frantically trying to smooth things over: "Paprika! There! Now [the secret's] out!" Orson, giddy: "That the mother I remember! I was wondering when she'd show up!" Mama Hodge: "Yes, Orson, I am your mother. So you, more than anyone, should know how I deal with betrayal." Was that a threat? Why I think it was. Mama Hodge walks stiffly out of the dining room, and Andrew says, "So, can we call her 'Grandma'?" I'm not sure I like how Andrew's been reduced to just a few one-liners, though I am happy that he appears to be out of his Satan phase. And at least he gets something to say; Danielle doesn't do anything in this scene but eat her secret-sauce salmon.
up: a nice little scene between Julie and Susan, where Julie's doing laundry and Susan is staring mournfully out her window. Julie apologizes for putting Susan "through the wringer." Susan: "Sixteen years of being perfect...you were due." And yet, that's what's confusing Julie: if Susan's trusted her this long, why can't she trust Julie's judgment when it comes to Austin? Susan explains that even the smartest, most reliable girls make bad decisions when it comes to shiftless, shirtless men. Susan pats Julie on the shoulder and then heads off to finish the laundry. Julie walks over to the window to check out what Susan was gazing at oh so woefully, and she sees Edie and Mike making out on Mike's front porch. I feel like I should also tell you that Edie is either wearing the freakiest, fluffiest fur mittens, or her hands have transformed into wolf-woman paws.
Hostility Hodge Lodge. A driver from Mama Hodge's home comes to pick her up, but he very conveniently needs to come inside and use their facilities. Orson shows him inside, and Mama Hodge gets behind the wheel. Bree, still trying to smooth things over, gets into the passenger's seat. Mama Hodge, screaming, "I'm not going back to that place," puts the pedal to the metal and drives the van right into a fire hydrant. The driver, you see, he left the keys in the ignition.
Back inside. Mama Hodge sits in the foreground, her hair wet from the hydrant geyser. Behind her, Orson and Bree Whisperence: Bree wants Mama Hodge-- you know what? I just can't call that woman "Mama Hodge," it's just way too down-home for a woman this rigid. So, Bree wants Gloria to stay with them for a few weeks -- just until they can find her a cute apartment. Orson: "No, I absolutely forbid it." Bree wheedles: if only Orson had heard how sad Gloria was out in the car? Orson: "I don't care, my mother's not moving in here until she fits in a jar on the mantle." Bree wonders, as do I, what Gloria could have done to earn such black, bitter ire from her son, but Orson wants to leave the past buried in the past. Gloria, who's been listening to every word, interrupts with a request for a private word with Orson. Bree smiles encouragingly at her mother-in-law and leaves the two of them alone.
Gloria gets right to it: if Orson refuses to let her stay with him, she's going to tell Bree all about the true nature of their "quarrel." Orson's face is a rainbow of agony and indecision, but he gives in. Gloria notices Bree watching them from the other room, and she tells Orson to give her a kiss, to "make [their reconciliation] look real." Orson looks as though he's just been asked him to french kiss a viper. And, in a sense, he has! But he leans in for a peck anyway. Over his shoulder, Gloria smiles at Bree, and Bree smiles right on back.
Susan is out jogging when Gabby's cab rolls up. Susan gleefully asks for all the news about the big modeling shoot, but Gabby is clearly embarrassed: She thinks, actually, that it might be time for her to go into another line of work, though clearly she's not at all certain what else she knows how to do. Here's something, Gabby: The way you whipped up a skirt and bikini top out of an apron, I'd say an audition for Project Runway is well in order.
Lynette and Parker are over at Art's house, cake in hand. Parker goes to knock on the door, but it swings right on open. They step inside, Lynette calling out Art's name -- sure, Lynette, just make yourself right at home. She puts the cake down on the table, and starts to leave Art a note. Parker runs over to a huge train set that's all set up in the living room. He turns it on, and Lynette distractedly tells him not to "touch anything." Parker follows the train back into the house, and the angle of the shot -- the camera's way down at foot level -- gives me a sudden chill. Uh oh. Lynette finishes up her note and goes looking for her son. The train tracks lead to the basement, staying at ceiling level while the stairs lead downstairs. And the basement is packed with all sorts of vintage toys. As Parker gleefully dings away at a vintage pinball machine, and as Lynette stares at the vast collection with wild, childlike amazement, and as the "Something's Terribly Wrong" music swells, I start to get that sinking, Neverland Ranch sort of vibe. Oh boy, oh boy. Or should I say, "Oh boys." Because that's exactly what Lynette spies : a wall full of photos of half-naked boys. Oh...so that's why they called the episode "Children And Art"? I somehow thought it was going to be about macaroni necklaces and refrigerator paintings. I feel queasy. And Lynette is right there with me. Her face crumbles into horror and she quickly gathers up Parker and they make a dash for the door. Art sure set up shop pretty fast for a guy who just moved in! Blech.
Now. I know it looks bad. But I kind of was starting to like this Art character. Maybe there's a reasonable excuse for this boy-photo business? If only because the obvious is so rarely what it seems on twisty Wisteria Lane? Also, what self-respecting pedophile leaves his front door unlocked and his photos so obviously out on display like that? So, let's see here. What if the toys belong to his as-yet-unseen sister. Yeah! His infirm sister has, like, a childlike mind and a matching childlike obsession with toys, and photos of other children soothe her. Photos...of half-naked...children. Yeah, this is going to be a toughie to explain.
MAVO summary time! "There are so many things we wish we could tell the young." Susan watches Julie and Austin through the window as the sit together out in the yard. Julie laughs, and Austin affectionately tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Back at a different photo shoot, Agent looks on as young Tanya does some sexy posing for the camera. MAVO tells us how "we want to tell [the young] that beauty fades."
Gloria watches on as Orson crabbily unloads boxes of her stuff from the trunk of his car. MAVO: "We warn them that their actions will have consequences, but still they defy us."
Smiling Lynette watches her children playing out in her front yard, but then she spies Art the Probably Pedophile talking to a fauxscout out on the sidewalk. MAVO: "Sadly, the young can't begin to understand that the world is a dangerous place, so it's up to us to do anything we can to protect them." Lynette's smile turns to ice, and MAVO hits it home: "Absolutely anything."
And the EVO Summary? Eh. That was sort of a ho-hum episode after last week's big Bang, don't you think? I know they can't all be showstoppers, but still I wish this episode had a little more "wow" and little less "Gabby being excruciatingly obtuse." And though the pedophile stuff was definitely chilling, any potential storyline that I can see it leading to kind of just kind of bums me out. Because, really, I'd rather see almost anything than some horrific pedophile story, especially if they try to give it the patented DH black comedy spin. Seriously, bring back Susan's mom if that's what it takes. I'd far prefer that lesser hell to sitting through one second of "wacky child porn." But that's just me.
Up : Gabby teaches a fleet of little girls how to do sexy runway turns!