By Jessica
Casa D-I-V-O-R-C-E. We appear to be picking up the story about three hours after we last left off. KimberBree is reading the Bible, while MAVO blathers on and on about guilt. Apparently, KimberBree always felt guilty about something: not getting straight As, letting her boyfriend get to second base, being tardy about her thank-you notes. But that's small fry compared to concealing Andrew's hit and run. How the heck are they going to handle that? A good question, clever viewer. A good question indeed. The answer is: poorly. Danielle suggests that they go to the police and explain that the whole thing was an accident. Rex doesn't think that will fly, since Andrew was (a) drunk and (b) fled the scene of the crime like a cowardly little girl. Andrew's bright idea involves hiding out in Canada until the statue of limitations runs out. Danielle snorts that KimberBree and Rex aren't going to foot the bill while he goes "moose-hunting for seven years." That reminds me! I have to be on the lookout for my traditional Canadian Christmas gift from Wing Chun: moose tenderloin, wrapped in Canadian bacon, delivered by a Mountie wearing a hockey jersey, drinking maple syrup. ["Yes, I spoke to Gordon this week and he can't wait to see you again." -- Wing Chun] Rex points out that if Mama Solis dies, there is no statue of limitations. "Right, because then it's MURDER," Danielle yells. "Shut up!" Andrew yells back. "You shut up!" she retorts. I am going to kill someone myself in about five minutes if they don't shut it.
Andrew insists that it really was all an accident. "We have to get rid of the car," KimberBree says, in a really icy Dr. Kimberly Shaw-type voice. You know, like she's plotting something. It might involve firearms. Everyone just stares at her. She says that they can't sell it: "The police might find it, and there could be DNA." She suggests, instead, that they take it to a "bad part of town," leave it unlocked with the keys in the ignition, and then report it stolen. That way, if the police don't find it, the Van de Kamps get the insurance money, and if the cops do find it, it wasn't in their possession at the time of the accident. "Anyone could have hit Mrs. Solis," she finishes. Sigh. What I am about to say seriously hurts me way way more than it hurts you: KimberBree, that's pretty stupid. It seems smart on the outside and all, but any policeman with a brain would probably put two and two together and bust your ass. First of all, why would Andrew be in Cracktown? Okay, let's just say he was buying drugs. But what is the likelihood that someone would steal his car and then drive all the way out to the neighborhood of the dude the car was stolen from and run down some old women and then drive off? Correct answer: totally fucking low. Even if it did happen that way, why did the Van De Kamps wait until several hours after the fact to report it stolen? How did Andrew get home? Etc. etc. I say, make Andrew drive the car off a bridge at a slow speed with the windows down. He can totally swim out, and the car can sink. The end. "That sounds good!" Andrew chirps, in response to his mother's plan. "[Kimber]Bree. Are you sure?" Rex asks. KimberBree retorts that she doesn't want Andrew to spend the rest of his life in the joint: "I won't allow that." She gets up and puts her Bible away. She tells them all to wash up: "We're having pancakes for breakfast." Pancakes do solve pretty much everything, I've found.
Later, the Fumbling Foursome clean up the street after the accident. Literally. They're sweeping up glass and scrubbing away skid marks, and while that is a nice bit of continuity with the story of KimberBree washing her dead mother's blood off the streets, I am pretty sure the police frown upon the neighbors fiddling the crime scene. Plus, should they be out in the streets like that? Clearly, it's not all that safe. Anyway, in this episode's expositionpaloza, we learn that Mama Solis is in that favorite of the soap-opera conditions: the coma. If she doesn't have amnesia when she wakes up, I quit. We also learn that Carlos is sad, sad, sad that his mother is all in a vegetative state and whatnot. As they scrub, a car speeds around them. "Slow down, you jerk! This is a residential neighborhood," Lynette screams, tossing a sponge after the car. Where are her children? I ask only because the rest of this episode makes such a yooooooge deal about how overwhelmed she is. So where are they? All the girls are here. I can believe that the three older boys are in school, but if they're in school, so are Andrew and Danielle and Julie, so the older kids can't be watching the baby. Is the baby with a babysitter? And if so, why doesn't Lynette use said babysitter more often? If they're going to make a big-ass deal about how overwhelmed Lynette is with her kids, then the kids ought to be in every damn scene. Lynette then starts yammering that she has four kids -- I don't know if you've heard, but apparently Lynette has several children, and I guess they're kind of tough? I don't know. This is the first I've heard of it -- and she was up all night reading stats about how most traffic accidents happen on residential streets. She hopes that whomever hit Mama Solis gets "put away for life." KimberBree tightly wonders if that might be a little bit extreme.
Come on down to Comaville! Carlos holds his mother's hand and looks sad. Gabrielle does her nails. She tells Carlos he should go home and eat something, and rest and answer his messages. "I need to be here if she wakes up," Carlos says. Gabrielle examines her nails and offers to stay. "What if she dies?" Carlos wonders, pointing out that people fall into comas and stay in them all the damn time. "Don't say that! You need to stay positive," Gabrielle says, biting a cuticle. Enter Miguel, with a rose and looking mega-guilty. Dude, Miguel. Sweetie, you can do better than Gabrielle. Miguel gives Carlos a very heartfelt apology, and they hug. For like a really long time. Gabrielle looks alarmed. Please God, let Carlos and Miguel have an affair. Please God, let Carlos and Miguel have an affair. Carlos announces that he's going down to the chapel to pray. Gabrielle doesn't want to go, so she offers to "stay with mama." Miguel asks if he can come. "Of course," Carlos says. "We need all the prayers we can get." The men head off to pray. They just miss a nurse, who comes in to give Mama Solis her sponge bath...unless Gabrielle would like to do it herself? Gabrielle will pass.
Casa Kravitz. Mrs. Kravitz is packing. Sister, where you're going, you don't need any luggage. Enter Edie. They have a spat about an alleged forty bucks that Mrs. Kravitz allegedly stole from Edie's bag. Or something --- I am very distracted by Nicolette Sheridan's sternum. Mrs. Kravitz suggests that if Edie is missing money, she should ask "one of those strange men [she's] always parading through [Mrs. Kravitz's house] at all hours." Edie snaps that she won't apologize for her healthy sex life. "'Healthy'?" snits Mrs. Kravitz snits. "I have to burn every sheet you've touched." Edie just wants her money. "And I want those non-fat peach yogurts," Mrs. Kravitz retorts. "They didn't just walk out of the fridge by themselves." Edie says Mrs. Kravitz can deduct it from the forty bucks she owes Edie. And she knows Mrs. Kravitz has financial problems: "I can hear you bitching on the phone to your bank." What does one say to the bank in that case? "Hello, Bank? May I please have some more money in my account? Thank you!" Mrs. Kravitz works herself into a righteous lather and snaps that she can put up with Edie's debauchery and food theft, but she simply can not tolerate spying! And so she kicks Edie out of the house: "I'm leaving tomorrow to visit my sister for a few days. I want you gone by the time I get back." Edie responds that she will leave right now, and storms out! As soon as she's gone, Mrs. Kravitz takes two twenties out of her bra and sneaks them into her purse.
Across town, Lynette is getting acupuncture, explaining that her "sleep cycle is all out of whack." She's up all night and dozing off during the day. Sadly, all the needles never get a chance to work, as Pop, Pip, and Pap are all screaming and yelling in the waiting room. And I guess this is supposed to make me bad for Lynette, but I mostly feel for the other patients. I would be LIVID if I was at the acupuncturist and some hellions were running around screaming while I was having needles stuck in my face. "Just sit there and color," Lynette calls to them. Instead, the kids come dashing into the room. One of them is dragging a potted plant. Lynette sits up and starts screaming at them, needles akimbo. I can't even take this anymore. Don't take your kids with you to acupuncture if you know they're terrible hellions. Leave them with a babysitter. Or go when they're all at fucking school and you only have to deal with the baby, you giant idiot. Lynette finally settles back down and tells the doctor that she's going to level with her: "I screwed up my entire system by taking my kid's ADD medication." Her acupuncturist is clearly wondering why she wasn't giving the drugs to her terrible horrible children. Lynette swears she just needs to sleep, but explains that she needs something stronger than a needle. So the doctor gives her some herbs. More drugs for the drug addict. Great. "It's a very powerful herbal remedy," says the acupuncturist. "Promise me you're going to use it judiciously." "Sure, whatever," says Lynette; she takes it and goes. Needles still sticking out of her head. I hate this plotline. I hate Lynette. I hate the acupuncturist. I hate those children. All this hate has been brought to you by the letter P.
Susan comes over to Mike's. He is tearing out the leaky pipes in his upstairs bathroom: "Wall-to-wall rotten wood." ["That's pretty ambitious, considering he's only renting that place." -- Wing Chun] Susan explains that she just dropped in because Julie said Mike stopped by. "I was thinking about driving up to this wine tasting," he says. "What time do you want me to be ready?" Susan asks. SUSAN. Jesus. LET HIM ACTUALLY ASK YOU. What if he wanted you to watch Bongo while he was gone, or something? And it's not like I'm Little Miss The Rules, or anything, but there's something to be said for not appearing too eager. My God Anyway, Mike tells Susan he'll pick her up around 6, and then there's all this yammering about the drive and stuff, and the winery is really far away, and it'll be really late when they're done, and Mike offers that, if worse comes to worst, they can "get a room." Which is really terribly presumptuous on Mike's part. For the first date, particularly. I would have slapped him and stormed off. But I do watch a lot of soap operas, so my reactions are often overly dramatic. Susan is fine with it, suggesting that he make a reservation. He printed out some information on hotels that he found on the internets, he says, and goes upstairs to get the paperwork. Susan, Susan, Susan, my GOD. I am not, personally, a big Sex on the First Date kind of person -- not because I think it's morally wrong or anything, I'm just uptight in general, personally, although heavens knows I might change my tune if said date were with, for example, Mr. Jude Law -- but I certainly feel no compunction in saying that I think making a reservation at a hotel on your first date is really rather beyond. Unless you are a professional. Even when two people KNOW they're going to have sex at the end of the night, sometimes it is fun to PRETEND that one or the other or both of them might have to work for it. I am actually clutching my pearls
Anyway, while Mike is upstairs getting the hotel information, Susan plays with Bongo and asks if he wants a snack. She calls up to Mike to ask where the dog treats are, and he can't hear her, and she says she'll find them herself and she goes into the kitchen and she opens a cabinet and of course she finds Mike's stash of guns and his weapons cache. So many issues. First, some people on the boards were gasping at her snoopy rudeness, which I don't think actually think is a factor here. It's the kitchen, first of all, not his bedroom, and most people generally don't think twice about opening the kitchen cabinets to get a glass or something, because the kitchen cabinet is not a place where people hide personal doodads. Second, even if it were a place where someone would hide personal doodads, if you have something to hide, you really cannot rely on the assumption that everyone entering your house will not be snoopy. Therefore: the kitchen cabinet is officially the worst hiding place ever. Susan takes several piles of cash out and then replaces them hastily when Mike comes downstairs to answer the phone. He has this boring conversation with his tile guy, and yada yada yada, Susan manages to convince Mike to allow her to let the tile guy in when he's off getting wood or something the day, so that she can snoop around some more and continue on the merry path of ruining her life.
Cracktown. KimberBree looks like Grace Kelly in Rear Window, skulking around in a trench coat and head kerchief. Not very undercover, KimberBree. She and Rex leave the Mustang running, the keys in the ignition, and stake out the convertible, waiting for someone to steal it. Rex wonders how she can be so sure that someone will pinch it. "Because I have faith in the poor," KimberBree tells him earnestly.
Casa Suicide. Paul shows Shaft a video of Mary Alice, taken last year on her birthday. After some tiresome moaning and groaning about how much Paul misses his Poor Dead Wife, he asks how Shaft plans to knock off Edie. Shaft explains that he's posing as a real estate developer to lure her to her death, and that he's got it all under control. Paul would like him to ask Edie why she did it, but Shaft warns Paul not to give into his curiosity. "Curiosity leads to guilt," says Shaft. "Guilt leads to talking." Yes, yes. And fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. Fear is the path to the dark side. Paul is Darth Vader. We get it. But, seriously, dudes? Has it not occurred to either of you that you're doing this on basically no evidence whatsoever? At all? In any way? No? Okay, just checking. Anyway, Shaft reminds Paul that if he walks away with the cash, it's done: "No refunds, no buyer's remorse." Paul gets it. "We won't talk again, so I'll ask one more time. Are you sure you want this?" Shaft asks. Paul repeats that his wife is dead because of Edie: "I absolutely want this."
Rex and KimberBree are still on Car Stealing Stakeout. Because it's not at all suspicious for them to be sitting in their car in the middle of Cracktown, having a little conversation. Rex notes that KimberBree's being awfully quiet, and she tells him that she's been thinking about the kids. You know, how fast they grew up. How quickly they became sociopaths. Rex is like, "...yeah." Rex suggests that maybe they should punish Andrew the Asshole. "Well, what's the appropriate punishment for a child who drives over a woman?" KimberBree asks. Yeah, I don't think that's in Dr. Spock. They each put on their thoughtful faces as some dude with long hair climbs in Andrew's precious 'Stang and drives off.
Casa Estupido. Susan is telling Julie about Mike's stash of money and guns. And how she's just realized that she barely knows him: "He could be a hit man for the mob." This prompts Julie to ask the obvious: "If you really think that, why are you going on a trip with him?" Susan shrugs: "I never get out of the house." Fine line. Well delivered. TERRIBLE EXAMPLE FOR THE CHILDREN. Won't someone think of them? Anyway, Julie says that if Susan really wants something to freak out about, she should freak out about how Mike's going to be the first guy to see her naked in years! Man, this relationship is f'ed up. First of all, Susan is setting a really bad example. We have all had moments where we think, "This is a bad idea, but I'm doing it anyway," but it's best when "that" is not "fucking a crazy man in a hotel in the middle of nowhere and not telling your daughter what a BAD IDEA THAT IS." Second, Julie seems to be developing an unhealthy fixation on her mother's sex life that will, I predict, eventually make some therapist very rich. Susan agrees that that is nervewracking to get naked in front of anyone, and then shares that going to a hotel with a man is a big deal to her. Especially, I would imagine, ON THE FIRST DATE. Wow, who knew I was such a Charlotte York? Oh, fine: everyone. There's a honk outside: it's Karl, come to pick up Julie. She turns to go and tells Susan to stop freaking out. Julie needs this weekend to go well, she says: "I'm going to have a husband of my own someday, and I really don't want you living with us." You're not going to have a husband of your own if you act anything like your short-sighted nutball mother.
Casa Unfaithful. The Van de Kamps are paying a guilt-induced visit to the Solises. Rex politely -- and self-servingly -- wonders if the police have any leads. Everyone exchanges looks. Gabrielle explains that they can determine the make and model of the car, but that without eyewitnesses, no one is very optimistic. And how is Mama Solis? KimberBree wonders. She is still going on down to Comaville. Danielle pipes up that they've added Mama Solis to their prayer list. "It must really help, during times like these," groans Carlos. "Having kids." "Yeah, they're a blessing," Rex says dryly, and chomps down on a ladyfinger. Heh. Carlos waxes poetic about how kids make everything worthwhile, and so forth, since they are the future and whatnot, concluding by telling Andrew and Danielle, "After we're all dead, you'll be the ones left to carry on." And then he announces that he and Gabrielle are about to start their own family. Gabrielle looks as though this is news to her. KimberBree looks equally surprised, and wonders when they decided it. "It's a fairly...recent development," Gabrielle explains tightly. There are Significant Looks being thrown all over town, until Carlos bursts out with "Face it. We're shallow people. Can our lives have any meaning if all we do is buy stuff?" Gabrielle predictably retorts that it all depends on what they're buying. Well, Carlos wants to buy a baby! Gabrielle reminds him that they agreed not to have kids when they got married. They made a deal! "Well, deals were meant to be renegotiated," he tells her. The Van de Kamps all look way uncomfortable. "Well, we're not negotiating my uterus," Gabrielle announces. KimberBree: "We should probably be going."
Outside, KimberBree says she feels awful for Carlos. He's so grief-stricken! "Whatever. I'm off the hook," Andrew sings. He and Danielle celebrate his avoiding punishment for getting hammered and running over an old lady by surreptitiously bumping fists. KimberBree looks sick to her stomach.
Casa Crackhead. Lynette takes her herbal Sleepy Time Tea. Lynette? Maybe you're having trouble with your sleep schedule because you are trying to fall asleep IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY. Try taking the herbs at NIGHT. When it is DARK. When you are SUPPOSED TO BE ASLEEP. Taking a crazy heavy nap in the day will ONLY SCREW YOU MORE. Jesus. Anyway, she settles down on the couch in her comforter. ["Why not in bed? Shut up, Lynette." -- Wing Chun] And of course the doorbell rings. "Go to hell," she says, mostly to herself. Ding dong. Ding dong. "Go to hell, go to hell, go to hell," she mutters. Heh. Eventually, she gets up and ushers in...an entire Scout Troop, including her kids. In their uniforms. And then says something along the lines of "It's Troop day?" Well, you clearly knew that at some point, if your children are all dressed for the Scout meeting, but whatever.
In a very obvious turn of events, Lynette mostly sleeps through the meeting, finding herself unable to teach children properly how to make knots. Call me crazy, but I suspect that accurate knot-making is not a skill that Pomegranate, Parcels, and Polemic ought to have in their bag of tricks. Lynette, wiped out from the herbs, finally trudges to her bathroom and takes some more Ritalin. Lynette! Just tough it out this afternoon and go to bed as soon as the kids do -- you're exhausted! You will sleep! GOD. I hate you and your stupid stupidity.
Casa Undercover. Susan signs for Mike's tile, and the tile guy leaves, and Susan immediately starts snooping. Susan's version of snooping is taking all the money and counting it on the living-room table after getting her fingerprints all over the gun by bringing it with her to the sofa for no reason whatsoever. Why does she have to know how much cash Mike has? Isn't "piles and piles of unmarked bills" suspicious enough for her? Susan hears a car in the driveway and looks up. The tile guy is back. Instead of just pretending that she's already left, or throwing the money under the sofa cushions, like a normal person, Susan panics. The tile guy calls that he forgot to give her a receipt, but instead of telling him to stick it in the mail slot, Susan sticks all the money in her shirt, takes the gun, runs up the stairs, and sticks all the evidence in the bathroom sink. That doesn't even make any sense at all. "Hey, madam, still here?" the tile guy calls. See? You could have just pretended that you left already, you dingbat. Instead, Susan climbs on top of the toilet and watches out the window until the tile guy leaves. Moron, if he looks up, he will SEE YOU. He can SEE YOU. The window is make of something we call GLASS and it is TRANSPARENT. God, Susan's dumb. Anyway, the tile guy drives away and Susan idiotically looks pleased with herself and then hops merrily to the floor. AND FALLS HALFWAY THROUGH IT. Christ on a cracker. I don't even know what to say anymore. Except that, in the course of eight short episodes, Susan has: locked herself out of the house naked, fallen into a wedding cake, been attacked by bees, run over her mailbox with her car, been mistaken for a whore while stranded in Cracktown, burned down a house, been blackmailed into buying meat, made people sick with her mac and cheese, almost killed a dog with her earring, ruined her own plumbing, and now almost fallen through a floor to her death.
When we get back from the ads, Susan is imploring Bongo to help her. After you nearly choked him to death with your jewelry? I'm so sure. Anyway, she screams some more for help and swims her legs around and then gives Bongo a towel and tries to talk him into pulling her out of the hole in the floor. Susan, if you have the upper-body strength to keep yourself from falling through the hole, I'll bet you have the strength to pull yourself out of the hole. Bongo is all, "Girl, please," and just drinks out of the toilet. "This is what you get for snooping," he tells her in between slurps.
Gabrielle pretends to be visiting someone at the house where Miguel is gardening, but she's really there to talk to him out of the side of her mouth and berate him for having a heart. How dare he show up at the hospital? "I had to see if she was okay," Miguel tells her. I am sort of in love with Miguel now. I saw a picture of him at some event recently, and he was working the scruff and, people, it was hot. Of the Lopez-Fitzgerald brothers, of which he was the youngest, on Passions, I far preferred Miguel's hot older brother, Luis, who is seriously the hottest man on daytime and who, I am not kidding, totally emotionally rocks all the scenes they make him do with the orangutan. Whereas I think Miguel could have done more with that time he found out he accidentally impregnated his best friend after she performed a magic spell so that she looked just like his girlfriend, or that time he got sucked into Hell. However, he's awfully cute here. Anyway, Gabrielle says they have to keep a low profile, and he reminds her that they're keeping no profile at all because he broke up with her already. He's sticking with Danielle, and Jesus. Gabrielle, not surprisingly, has a real problem with this. "I hate myself for what we did," he tells her. "I can't sleep at night." He's not sleeping with Gabrielle anymore. He means it this time! Gabrielle insists that it's not their fault: "You didn't do anything wrong." Miguel tells her that his priest doesn't agree: "I went to Confession." Gabrielle thinks Miguel's lost his mind. "What did you tell him?" she asks. Asking someone what they said in Confession is, by the way, a real etiquette no-no. "Everything," says Miguel. "Including in the alley, behind the truck stop?" asks Gabrielle. "Everything," he repeats. Gabrielle storms out. She is such a brat.
Casa Hole In the Floor. Susan is berating Bongo: "Lassie would have had a fire truck here by now. Stupid dog." Bongo takes off, and Susan praises him, thinking that her scolding worked, but I think that is merely the dog version of stomping out. He comes back soon enough, bringing her a dead bird. "There, bitch. That's for almost killing me with your fucking earring," he says. Susan looks disgusted.
Casa Killer. KimberBree tries to talk to Andrew about the "stressful" events of the last few days. She thinks he should talk to a counselor. Andrew cheerfully continues making his sandwich and asks if she thinks he's crazy. You know what they say: the apple doesn't fall far from the wig. KimberBree assures Andrew that she doesn't think he's crazy; she's just worried that he's been acting like a total sociopath. Also, it would be normal for him to feel weird about the whole thing. If he did. Which he doesn't. Andrew: "I'm cool." KimberBree is all, Are you sure? Because, you know, she's, you know, in a coma. And that's bad: "It's okay if that bothers you." Andrew. "It doesn't." KimberBree finally explains that she really needs to know that Andrew's not a monster, and Andrew brats that he feels bad and all, but that he's also really bummed that his car got dinged: "I also feel bad that now I'm going to have to ride my bike to school." KimberBree points out, yet again, that Andrew almost killed someone. Andrew: "She's an old lady!" He still has his whole life ahead of him and now it might be screwed up! "That's what you should be worried about!" he yells at her. KimberBree snaps that she's much more worried about the fact that Andrew appears to have no soul. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't call the police," she says. "Because I'm your son," Andrew announces dramatically. "That would make you the monster." He flounces off with his sandwich. KimberBree? Not pleased.
Casa Shoddy Workmanship. Mike finally gets home. Bongo comes downstairs and is all, "Dude, check it out," and Mike sees all the crap on the kitchen floor, and Susan's feet and legs dangling down. "Mike? I'm upstairs. Sorta," she calls. Mike is amused by Susan and her wacky antics and runs upstairs to haul her out of his floor/ceiling. ["He does let her dangle there for a moment, though, even though she'd have probably dislocated her shoulders or something after hanging there for so long." -- Wing Chun] Mike's less amused when he discovers all his stuff in his sink, and promptly orders Susan out of his home. "Yeah, get out!" Bongo yells, as she leaves. Poor stupid, stupid Susan.
So, Shaft lures Edie to the wilderness with some Phony Realtor shenanigans, and then notices her stationery. He asks about it. Which he should have done before he dragged her out there to kill her, but whatever. Who am I? I am but your lowly recapper. Edie cheerfully informs him that her stationery is stolen. And Shaft is really surprised: "What do you mean?" Where Shaft comes from, no one ever lays a finger something as precious as someone else's scratch paper. Edie explains that her house burned down, so she doesn't have anything of her own anymore. I sure hope Shaft turns on Paul after this, because Paul is a moron not to have thought of any of this and mentioned it to Shaft. Shaft is also a moron for not investigating any of this at all, ever. Anyway, yada yada yada, Shaft doesn't kill Edie because it's not really her stationery, like, DUH. The entire audience rolls its eyes at the predictability with which this is unfolding.
Casa Stupid Lynette Doesn't Know You're Supposed to Sleep When It's Dark Out. It is in its usual disarray. The kids are turning the stereo up and up and up, banging on pans, screaming, et cetera. I so don't feel for Lynette anymore. Remember when you tired them out for their interview at Posh Academy? TRY THAT AGAIN. They're energetic and bored. For that matter, I'll bet you Posh Academy has day care Lynette could enroll them in. Give them something to do, or give them Ritalin, but whatever you do, shut your yap, Lynette, because I just can't take you anymore. Anyway. Lynette is stressed. She's on the phone with Gay Matt, finding out he has to stay away on his business trip for another night, and she just can't take it anymore. She hangs up the phone and totally loses her shit. Really loses it. She screams at the kids, she sobs, she wails, she has a full-on temper tantrum, including breaking shit and throwing a jar of peanut butter through the kitchen window. Lady, Jesus. What did the peanut butter ever do to you? The broken window transforms magically into a beatific-looking Mary Alice, who smiles sweetly and hands Lynette a gun. Lynette holds it to her temple and fires and for about two seconds I was so fucking impressed with this show that I almost wet myself. It is so ballsy for a show to kill off a main character in this day and age -- and so rare for the audience not to know that so and so is leaving the show -- that I cheer for it whenever it happens. If I had a nighttime soap -- and believe me, one day I will -- I would totally kill people off all the time. Anyway, that was all totally a dream. Lynette fell asleep at the kitchen table. Now she's awake. But she looks like death. Lynette, not to quote my mother or anything, but you might feel better if you put on a little lipstick.
Susan shows up at Mike's. She wants to apologize. "Don't worry about it," he says, and tries to close the door on her. "Tell the bitch to get out!" Bongo yells in the background. Bongo's been drinking, you see. Again. "So, in your mind, is the date off?" Susan actually asks. Those words actually leave her mouth. "Hell, yes, it's off, you MENTAL MIDGET," Bongo yells. Mike, more seriously, tells her that, yes, since she went through his shit, he no longer wants to see her girly bits. Susan wails that she found everything by accident! "Are you a drug dealer or something?" she asks. Mike snorts that he is not a drug dealer. Susan responds to this by telling him that there's these whole part of his life that he keeps "walled off," and that he never opens up to her and yada yada. I hate to beat a dead horse -- man, is that a lie. Actually, I love it -- but I feel that it bears pointing out that they have never been on a date. Ever. No boobs have been touched. No boy parts have been groped. Back off, Needy McWantAMan. Mike tells her that he has the gun "for protection," and cash for emergencies. "I'm a good guy, Susan, and you should know that," says Mike, and reminds her that he's not obligated to share everything with her. She agrees, but nor does she want him keeping weird, creepy secrets. Well, that's fair. Don't pull the "emotionally distant" card when what you mean to pull is the "you're freaking me out. Are you a hired killer?" card. Then Susan says, "Maybe we shouldn't be dating," and Mike goes, "Maybe we shouldn't," and Bongo goes, "YOU HAVEN'T BEEN," and, with that, the shortest, most non-relationship relationship ever comes to an end. Susan brats that she hopes his "little secret" keeps him warm at night, because he's throwing something "really great away to protect it." Oy.
Susan stomps home in a rage and runs into Lynette, who is still totally in full-on freakout mode. She promptly dumps all four kids on Susan, gets in her car, and drives off. "Lynette, when are you coming back?"Susan calls after her. "Lynette? Lynette?"
Lynette sits in the park, fingering her Ritalin. Susan and KimberBree drive up, expositioning that they've left the kids with Danielle. Now she's going to want to join the Abstinence Club, for reals. They pile out of the car and find Lynette, sleeping against a goal post.
Wilshire Memorial. The priest comes into Mama Solis's room and Gabrielle acts gracious, but guilty. Eventually, she puts down her Soap Opera Digest -- hee! -- to berate him about the secrecy of the confessional. He assures her that it's for real: "Everyone's secrets are safe." Gabrielle looks doubtful. "I'll keep yours too if you want to talk," he offers. She says that's really not "her thing." The priest thinks this is a "shame." Gabrielle snaps at him to "stop condemning [her] with [his] eyes. Right now!" He says nothing. She tells him that she knows he knows, but he can't really know, you know? Anyway, they're not doing it anymore. The priest reminds Gabrielle that she's still going to suffer the eternal torments of hellfire for all eternity. He says it a little more nicely. He reminds her that Mortal Sin - Repentance = Hell. How does Gabrielle not know this? I feel like she and Carlos must have been married in a Catholic ceremony, since Mama Solis apparently ran the whole wedding, so Gabrielle is either Catholic or took those classes they make you take to marry a Catholic, the name of which escapes me right now, so she ought to know this either way. ["Engaged Encounter, which my parents used to teach until my mother decided that she couldn't, in good conscience, tell people that the Rhythm Method is an effective form of contraception." -- Wing Chun] Anyway, the priest explains that Confession clears the slate so you can go to heaven. The priest and I simultaneously add that Gabrielle must be truly sorry and also promise never to do it again for the slate-cleaning bits to work. Gabrielle wonders if it still counts if she waits until she's seventy to repent. The priest is clearly weary of her childishness and tells her we are all responsible for the choices we make: "Don't you want to be a good person?" "What I want is to be happy," she tells him, sadly. "That's the answer of a selfish child," he tells her. "I know," she says, and leaves. Whatever. Wake me up when we have the scene where Gabrielle is literally experiencing the eternal torments of the underworld.
"Wah wah this is hard, wah wah I can't do this, wah wah I got addicted to Ritalin," says Lynette to KimberBree and Susan at the park. She loves the kids, she says, but she's sorry they have her as a mother. KimberBree lies, comfortingly, and tells Lynette she's a great mother. Lynette: "Wah wah wah failure, wah wah wah humiliating." Susan and KimberBree, for their parts, are very sympathetic and understanding and supportive. KimberBree tells Lynette that she just needs to get some help, and Lynette wails that no one else seems to need any help, and Susan and KimberBree both explain that they almost went out of their minds when their kids were younger. All they did was cry! All day long! Lynette sobs that they should have told her that and sobs and sobs and sobs. "Nobody likes to admit they can't handle the pressure," says KimberBree. Susan adds that a lot of people think it's easier to keep it all in. "We should tell each other this stuuuuuuuuuff," Lynette wails. And then there is hugging. And drinking. But the drinking is only on my part.
Night on Wisteria Lane. Creepy Paul is drinking. So is Shaft. So am I, as I just mentioned. "So it was [Mrs. Kravitz] all along," Paul says. I think I speak for all of us when I say, "DUH, PAUL." Shaft agrees: "Edie didn't move in with Mrs. Kravitz until after Mary Alice got the note." OF COURSE SHE DIDN'T. Man, the two of you are dumb. "My god, we almost killed an innocent woman," Paul breathes. Yes, because of the aforementioned dumbness. Shaft reminds Paul that he doesn't do refunds, but adds that he'd be totally happy to kill Mrs. Kravitz. Paul says no, because it isn't what Mary Alice would have wanted. For future reference, and I hope y'all never need to know this, but just in case, I totally want someone to avenge my death violently. Thanks.
So Shaft leaves, and Paul goes over and beats Mrs. Kravitz to death with Mary Alice's own blender. Symbolism, ahoy. But not before Paul totally calls her on the whole blackmailing thing. Mrs. Kravitz isn't feeling real guilty about the whole situation. In fact, she says she doesn't feel bad about it at all. Not after what Mary Alice "did to that poor baby." Mrs. Kravitz explains that her idiot husband died and left her with a worthless pension, "and it's better to take money from a bad person than a good one. How was I supposed to know [Mary Alice had] shot herself?" That is a very good question. Which Paul answers by bashing Mrs. Kravitz's head in.
Meanwhile, Mike comes over to Susan's. He tells her that he knows she has a lot of questions. And he doesn't want to lose her. So she can ask him anything she wants. Anything at all. And does she? NO. BECAUSE SHE IS AN IDIOT. Instead she just says, "You just told me everything I need to know," and pulls him inside and they have sex...
...while Paul is beating the life out of Mrs. Kravitz. You know, the old sex/death thing. Yada yada yada. Death, orgasm, blah blah blah. Been there, done that, not impressed with the pretentious attempt at symbolism. So, Mrs. Kravitz is all dead and shit, so Paul wraps her up in her rag rug.
Meanwhile, Susan kisses Mike. They both still have their shirts on because no one on Wisteria Lane knows what they're doing in the sack.
KimberBree reads the Bible. She looks up at her son, who's playing his GameBoy gleefully. She looks pretty upset. Andrew does not.
Gabrielle helps Carlos with Mrs. Solis's Sponge Bath of Guilt. He kisses her, gratefully. She makes guilty faces.
Paul cleans up Mrs. Kravitz's blood with the attention to detail one might find in a second-grader's rendering of a flower. Dude, if the police come over with any kind of forensic team at all, you are totally screwed.
And finally, Lynette sleeps. On the sofa. Instead of her bed. Because she's given up on her sleep cycle entirely. She dreams that she is at the park with the children. And lo, they are well-behaved. And Mary Alice was there. And the Tin Man. And the Scarecrow. Mary Alice smiles at Lynette. Lynette kisses the baby...and we're out. Lynette, sleep in your bed time.
week: LYNETTE IS NOT WEARING THE CHOKER IN TWO OUT OF THREE SCENES IN WHICH SHE IS FEATURED IN THE PREVIEW. Repeat: we have lost the choker!