Paul thinks about taking Beth for a good old-fashioned countryside murder, but then he changes his mind once again, due to staring at a picture of Zach or something.
Susan can't handle kidney truths so she cheerfully drills a hole in the skull of this mean old awesome guy, who's also getting dialysis, and then she cheerfully fucks him in that brain hole, until he is dead. Then she does a cheerful dance!
Renee's hilarious hatred of children raises itself to the level of actual psychic powers, but then the gay ones introduce her to their thirty-year-old daughter they've just adopted, who came in the mail, and then chill her horrific disinterest in children forever, causing the teeth in her vagina to sprout flowers and buttermilk biscuits, by asking her to explain menstruation to the well-into-menses girl, whom they've named "Liza Scissor Somewhere Over The Bumpy Night Boulevard Kathy Griffin Demon Barber Of La Cage Aux Bloody Bloody Gay-Parentsbaum."
At this point in the episode, Tom Hanks and Nathan Lane team up to deliver a heartfelt, tear-jerking eulogy, because everybody on this show has died of full-blown AIDS. Then they redecorate.
Gabrielle freaks out McCluskey with her weird doll talk, but it doesn't really matter to Carlos or anybody else because women are stupid and crazy, and then they get carjacked, and all Gabs can worry about is how her fake baby friend got jacked along with the car. God damn it.
Oh, and Bree finds out that Keith knocked up a black girl six years ago, so she pays the girl off to keep quiet about her son, because she is disgusting.
Finally, Lynette's mom is fucking this old racist, but nobody on this stupid racist show can even tell what that means anymore, so it's fine.
Anyway. Have a great week!
Oh, crackers! Paul Young is still stewing over how his wife is actually a double (or is it triple now?) agent for the sister of the woman he clubbed to death with a toaster for taunting his wife into suicide for stabbing the drug dealer from whom she'd stolen her baby, back before the days when Alfre Woodard was putting everybody in the basement and airplanes were setting fires at crowded Great White concerts and gunning down old ladies and everybody had a gay husband.
And poor Beth his wife, who thinks she's finally made the jump to rational human behavior, never knowing that he blames her for his shooting and all manner of things. She comes in to be simpering and sweet and tell him about the gun they found at Bree's, and how she thinks she's being framed for just that thing he thinks she did, and he's like, "Well, I guess I have to kill a bunch more people now. Let's go on a little trip together so I can throttle you and then your mom will really have it out for me."
Mary Alice is smoking some of that superfine pot they give you in heaven: "We are reminded every spring -- with every rose that blooms, with every sunflower that blossoms, with every lily that buds -- the world is a beautiful place. Sadly, it is filled with people who do ugly things." Ugly things like saying shit like that? Yes. And but also why is it spring suddenly? [Because it never snows here. - Zach] And why is everybody talking about "buds" in this episode?
Renee sees a competitor driving away from the Gays' house and immediately charges them like a rhino, calling the other lady an "inferior designer" and starting madness. Of course the Gays will love Renee, because she's so diva and whatever, just a big ol' drag queen like gays love so much, and because why else import her from Ugly Betty if not to grab that golden ring? "Look, you know we just adopted a little girl... You're not exactly maternal. We wanted this room to be pink and nurturing, and your style seems more like chrome, and glass, and... Teeth."
Funny and sharp as that is, speaking only in terms of sheer dialogue, I do feel it necessary to point out that four minutes and nineteen seconds into the episode, we've already hit a vagina dentata joke. Which, since this entire show is one long vagina dentata joke, maybe that's not even super noteworthy. Anyway, Renee undercuts the other lady's contract and they agree to it; at the sidewalk she leaves them with this: "Just so you know, I'm as maternal as the woman."
And as she says this, she holds up one palm like Jessica Alba in Fantastic Four, causing a bicycling child to abruptly fall over using only the power of her child-hate. Which is the funniest thing in the entire episode, frankly season, no matter what else happens. That was amazing, I rewound it like twenty times even after we'd already seen it in all the previews. Genius.
Speaking of maternal, how's Gabs doing? Well, I'll tell you: She is going nuts and keeping her $840 dolly from Screamin' Meemie's Dolls & Preemies just like down her drawers at this point. Carlos bugs her about the money spent, and she offers him sex as a distraction, but he's not dissuaded: "Why are you buying our kids fancy toys? Last week, Juanita used her doll's leg to scrape peanut butter out of the jar." Can't you just see it?
Gabi decides to lie and say it's for the new Gay baby/tween, and Carlos should shut up anyway because at least she's not "staying in bed till two in the afternoon, or staying up all night sobbing." Yeah, which was something you should have fucking quit doing, no therapy or shopping required. And how about how she's the one that broke up their gay marriage in the first place, by messing about with their minds over being a surrogate? They keep cramming her into these mommy stories that don't make sense in the first place and then make even less sense strung together. "Carlos, if you get this worked up now, you'll have no place to go when the bill for the platinum card comes in."
Men are from Mars and women are from Nordstrom, am I right? Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. Can I get a what-what? But it's just true, you know, women love to shop! What can I say, it's just true. It's just the truth, about us women. You know it, girlfriend! Shopping and child abuse and the occasional baby out of wedlock and this draining unconscious feeling of emptiness and the thing you know your husband's like, "I wanna watch a sports game on the TV" and you're like, "But what about my shows on TLC, about dwarves and pregnant teens and burning all my clothes and Trading a Space or two now and again?" and then before you know it, he's cold-cocking you across the face and you're crying and calling your mom and making him sleep on the couch even though you know you were asking for it. I mean, it's funny, right? Men and women. Shopping. Diet soda. Salads. Carrie Bradshaw's ancient vagina. Spiritual attrition. Hair removal. But chocolate, too! Thank God for chocolate, right?
A very pretty black woman with great clothes but strange personal style shows up at Bree's house looking for Keith, and of course because she's black you can already assume it's because she's had a child out of wedlock with Keith, because he is of a lower class -- somehow, despite having an Army Colonel and plastic surgeon for parents -- and because it's the one thing that would kill Bree now that we've forgotten her gay son exists. So the girl, Amber James, figures out that Bree is not Keith's super but in fact his aged lover, and before you can say 23 skidoo that girl is gone, weeping and beautiful, with her weird choppy extensions and even weirder fake contacts.
Susan: "Hey, we're going to be here for six hours getting dialysis, do you mind if I fucking bug you and talk to you and talk to you and talk to you and talk to you? Because let me assure you, it will be banal. I'm really shallow and boring, considering how much trouble I bring into the lives of those around me on a near-constant basis."
Old Man: "That doesn't sound like a fun time to me. I have a terminal illness."
Susan: "I'm going to call you Dick, because that's your name and because you are an asshole, according to my Borderline Personality Disorder. I am going to notify the government of your unwillingness to indulge my bottomless pit of need, and they will have you executed for being mean to me. Do you know who I am?"
Dick: "The very worst, I'd imagine. Stop humping my leg."
Penny figures out, by dint of the ugly candlesticks Lynette is putting out, that Lynette's awful mother is coming for a visit. Lynette, as a proper Baby Boomer, resents her parents almost as much as her kids. Whichever twin brings her in, wishing death on the old woman, and then she's a bitch to Lynette for awhile before giving Penny a wee tweak of the nipple. "You're getting buds!" she shouts, which is how Penny got her eating disorder.
Left alone, Lynette finds out that her mother is marrying some old dude whose standards have also slipped, and it's Saturday this is happening, but Lynette wants to meet the bastard ASAP, because that's what she's supposed to want and for no other reason. "Wanna make sure his intentions are honorable? Lynette, I hate to break this to you? I am not a virgin." Penny, move over. We're barfing as a team.
Bree slaps Keith awake and tells him he was calling out this "Amber" name in his sleep, and though his dumb ass covers kind of well -- "I'm doing a painting job! I'm thinking about shades of yellow that go in the kitchen" -- Bree is not fooled, and eventually prods him into admitting he dated an Amber once, who broke up with him, and then, thus roused, the 34-year-old stallion fucks her to sleep again.
I mean, she doesn't know what's up with this Amber, so it's really just a fact-finding mission, but here's a thought: "Hey, a gorgeous young lady came here asking for you, and seemed really upset by the end of the visit. Any thoughts?" Nope, not these ladies. Not on this show. Why ask a question when you can endlessly complicate your soulless slapstick existence by being as evasive and sketch as possible?
37 years old, is BAG, and this is how it's going. And did you know that Jared Leto is older than that, even? I had a hard time sleeping the other night when I found that shit out, believe you me. That is just not fair. Trent Reznor looks like/may well have become a professional Dungeon Master at the local comic book shop, and Jared Leto is still dressing like your gay cousin that moved east, and who's left to be in love with? I ask you. Well. Zack Morris. We've still got that going for us. And how.
New dad is named Frank, and he is a racist, and ... That's it. That's all you need to know, to extrapolate the whole story by synecdoche. They did the whole This Show's Not Racist No Takebacks bullshit with Grace's parents already, and frankly as far back as Alfre Woodard's whole Mandingo Party of a storyline, and now we've got a charming racist in the fold. I mean, it's nothing new: It's Archie Bunker. Half of us loved to hate him because he's wrong and gross, and half of us just loved him for saying what we're all thinking -- in today's viciously PC culture run entirely by fags and Jews -- and at the end of the day everybody can think he's on their side even though he's on nobody's side but the Devil.
And so Lynette's stepfather can speak for "us," and the characters can act appalled, but at the end of the day who's laughing heartily and smirking at each other over our International Coffees? That's right: "Us." The "us" that Mary Alice relates to thrice each episode, the "us" that hates being called racist even when we're being totally racist, the "us" that disingenuously whines, "Why can't you liberals be more open-minded about our different values? Like the values where we're good and you're bad? Can't you respect that viewpoint? Isn't hate speech free speech?" Only this show is neither good nor smart enough to do both, like Archie did, so they're fine with just the awful part. Which in turn is fine, because ratings are still going strong, because there's a lot of assholes out there with not a lot of TV left to watch.
It's gonna take 37 stitches to get Gaby's shit together, but meanwhile she's over at McCluskeys to get a Chinese menu from her (?) and try to bond with her over their love of dolls after she notes one on the shelf. "Heck, I've had her since forever. She was my best friend growing up. I couldn't bear to toss her, so there she is." Gaby's desperate to reach out and so she's all, "I didn't know you were into dolls," and of course McCluskey's like, "I'm not into dolls, I have a single doll gathering dust, and anyway-- WHOA. Where did that other doll come from?" Oh, from Gab's purse, of course.
"Her name's Princess Valerie! They could be sisters! Let's take them to the tearoom at Screamin' Meemie's Dolls & Preemies and merrily go shit-hot nuts together!" McCluskey awesomely goes, "Now usually, no. That sounds super-gay. But you are clearly heading for the motherfucking bend, and that sounds entertaining, so count me right in."
Lynette's mom admits that she's only marrying the racist because he's rich and hates his kids so she wants the money off his bad ticker, but Lynette's so used to silently judging everybody and causing riots that it's all the same to her. She would have exactly as much stick as far up her ass if he'd had a gambling program or admired Jill Zarin as a person, so the racism/prostitution thing is like, "I was already going to make this a huge fucking hassle for you anyway, so let's stick with that. You are a whore, he is a jackanapes, and I refuse to allow this marriage." Ugh, Lynette! Clean up your own yard. Just this one effing time.
Life's tough when you're as hot as Paul Young and still can't find a way to make it work. I suppose sitting in the corner weeping -- manfully, yet quietly -- and watching your wife sleep is one way to chase away the blues, but it's not the first one I'd recommend. Beth feels his cold dead eyes on her and wakes up in time for him to give a sad, beautifully delivered speech about how he's going to kill her and also the entire neighborhood: "I have so much hatred inside me. For my neighbors who betrayed me, for my son who disowned me, for whoever tried to kill me. I'm tired of hating people, but I don't know how to stop."
Tears, crying, pajamas. I have spent the last seven years of this show -- and at least three years of Mad Men -- wanting to make out with Paul Young super-hard, and knowing that's super-weird. This little scene is not helping one bit.
Sweet Beth pulls him into bed and says nice things: "Stop being so hard on yourself. You're a decent man. You just need to focus on what's good in your life." Like her, which he's not sure about as yet. "From the first moment I met you, all I wanted was for you to love me," he says, and she (I still believe honestly) says that mission's been accomplished, and a heck of a job done. He's like, "Cool, baby. So here's my plan for tomorrow: We go to a cabin in the woods where nobody can hear you scream, and then I bury you there so nobody can ever find the body. Sound good?" She's like, "Um."
McCluskey comes by to have a casual convo with Carlos about his nutsack wife -- she's pretty sweet about it -- and so by dinnertime he's got the baby doll sitting in a high-backed chair in the living room so he can watch her talk to it in secret. For once this season, his look of concern actually looks like concern and not incipient spousal abuse, and you start remembering how he's great sometimes. She reminds him that her doll thing is no weirder than his collectibles -- "Steroid freak hits a baseball over a fence, and you paid thousands of dollars for it?" -- and he says the best thing: "Yeah, but I don't carry it around with me or take it to tea..."
And once again, Eva LongPo somehow manages to spin gold out of straw, making this whole godforsaken abortion of an idea into something nearly real. She only gets to do this by inches, but she takes her chances where she gets them. So as long as you stick with Gaby -- which has always been my policy -- the rest of it makes sense. But because it's so fucked-up and has only her acting (and that of Ricardo Antonio Chavira, to be fair, even if Carlos-the-character is [re-]approaching Scavo levels of shitty lately) to prop it up, those Manolos are an even tighter fit than usual.
"First of all, McCluskey has a big mouth. Second, the doll makes me happy." She runs away so he won't say it but he says it anyway, how this is obviously a thing about Grace, and she just rips her face open screaming. "NO! NO! NO! We're not supposed to talk about her! That was your rule!"
Brutal. If you didn't totally identify with Gabrielle from the jump, I don't know how any of this would be watchable, except by waiting for Eva's big moments. Which is kinda sucky, too, because even if it's the best acting on the show lately, it's still in the context of a storyline that will never be recognized or even discussed in a hush in years to come. And she's doing this phenomenal work when it's not even required, given the mountain lion-quality storyline here. And so I guess it balances out, in terms of viewing pleasure, to have her walk us through it.
But I'd still love to see her get credit for... Somehow perfectly walking the line between the Douglas Sirk pathos the show wants to give us, and the amateurish Tyler Perry farce it inevitably produces.
You know? Like, I often feel that every show has one or two actors that get the show, if you know what I mean, more than the others. Often, they're the ones you see taking on the director role in later seasons, not coincidentally; often they are the last ones you'd suspect. (Vanessa Williams also, here, but only because they're going for a tone she'd already mastered on Betty, and because, like Huffman and Cross she's already a known formidable genius in her own right, and thus doesn't get quite the you go girl handicap of a Longoria or Helfer/Sackhoff/Park etc.) But it always comes down to tone, and timing, and all those things. How perfectly well Gaby fits into this universe. For a long time I thought it was Marcia Cross, but I don't even know what the hell she's thinking anymore; maybe it's always been ELP and she was just too hot to consider before. I just don't know how she does it, but I'm never unimpressed.
Anyway, Susan is now friends with all the nurses and phlebos and whoever, because that's Susan eternally: She smelled like pee and thought the lunch lady was her closest friend, and she will never change. Not even this old dick Dick, for whom we are rooting, will be able to bitchslap it out of her:
"When this beeper goes off, that means someone died. That's what we're waiting for: For some poor son of a bitch, who didn't use a helmet or a seat belt, to die. We're waiting for a doctor to ask a family who, moments earlier, lost someone they loved to let them harvest their organs. And then we're waiting to see who gets them. That's what we do: We wait for tragedy and then cross our fingers that it's us they wake up at two in the morning with the good news."
Jeez! That was amazing. Looks like somebody read some Ishiguro over the break. Or more likely, knowing the gross old queen that this show is, never heard of it until Queerty told him Andrew Garfield was nummy. Still, everything that rises. If you see what I'm saying.
And so but just to prove how wildly out-of-kilter Susan's bullshit is, Dick even tries to level with her as a person: "Susan. I know your intentions are good, but you don't have to distract me, or entertain me, or comfort me." And you know what that bitch says? Do you know what happens when she scrapes her skeleton claws along the bottom of the barrel where she keeps her bullshit and this is what she comes out with, after that musical little speech of his? I bet you fucking do. I bet you know it already:
"...I wasn't trying to comfort you."
Oh, well then. I can see how you're justified. You absolute trashbox. Let me give a hug, come over here with your hard, sharp bones wrapped in tight, thin skin, let me put my arms around you, never ever let you go. Not until you've breathed your last, and I move up one more spot on the donor list. Oh, I'll comfort you all right. All ya had to do was ask.
Bree goes zooming over into the life of Amber James, immediately noticing the child she clearly had out of wedlock with Keith, and then talks her out of telling Keith about it. But "Would you like me to?" she asks, and when grateful Amber goes, "You would do that?" there is a thrilling WASPy ugliness in Bree's response that ratchets this entire story up even more notches of awful: "I think I have to!" You know, since it's now my huge problem and you can't be trusted to administrate your own life, and God knows I love telling my boyfriend what to eat and what to wear and not to pee in the yard, I think I definitely will be needing to hold his mulatto bastard over his head. If just for a little while.
I know you care about Bob and Lee and their 30-year-old gay baby, so let's talk about that a little. First things first: How will the room be decorated? Late '80s Gay Fantasia on Sweet Valley Themes, of course, all Pepto Pink and mosquito-net four-posters. And how do the gays feel about that? Super gay, you see: "The only thing that's missing is baby unicorns!" says one of them and that's when we fast-forward so motherfucking hard we gotta backtrack moment-by-moment, because How dare you.
Okay, so Renee who hates children secretly doesn't hate children, because she wanted to have kids one time and whatever. They suggest she adopt, and she wet-eyed runs away, so I guess she gave a baby up for adoption at some point, and let me just edge out onto that limb a bit more and suggest that since Tom's giant penis has been spraying the entire eastern seaboard with great jets and flumes and spouts and tempests of hot white semen for at least the last two decades -- and already has one illegitimate daughter we've forgotten about, in addition to the fifty vermin that have given Lynette's life its burdensome, soul-killing meaning -- don't you just know what they're going to perpetrate on us now. Don't you just. Or maybe Lynette and Bree can start a mulatto bastard daycare center and take them on day trips... To places, of course, where they don't run the risk of being seen by the other ladies. What with it being 1962 and all.
Tom is, if possible, even more atrocious about the ill-fated wedding than Lynette is, because as far as he can tell, the old ticker's gonna go and then eventually Lynette's bitch mother will die, and then they'll be rich. He doesn't understand why this is horrible; Lynette understands why it's horrible and talks as though she found it horrible, but I don't trust any of these jerks anymore. Anyway, Tom's putting a happy shine on things for her, because the real heart truth of the matter is that if Lynette doesn't support this financially motivated racist wedding, her mom will be sad, because this is her Big Day and thus, Lynette better cram it and wheel her ass down the aisle. Which is true, actually, and the correct approach, but why get there via Ghoulish Avenue?
Lynette kidnaps her mother and wheels her into a side room, threatening not to visit her mother even harder than she already doesn't visit her, because her husband is going to be a monster. Plus, think of the children. Porter's already halfway to rent boy, is this the example we're setting? Whatever, mom explains that the mercenary part of it is just an act to protect her brittle self-image because the simple fact is she's settling for a racist because she's horribly lonely. And this, Lynette understands, because Lord knows she wrote the book on settling for way less than you deserve. And since apparently this little meeting of the minds has erased any other issues from the table, the groom shows up and says something cute: "My daughter doesn't think you're good enough for me," mom says, and he fully agrees. And then it goes immediately away again, because of more awkwardly shoehorned-in racist dialogue. But it was cute for a sec.
The gays bring the new baby over to meet Renee, and that's it. Like they go, "This is our daughter, we just picked her up from the airport and we wanted you to be the first person on the Lane to meet her, and so you have, so goodbye." It's so weird. People on Wisteria Lane act so weird.
The really gay one stays behind to give a speech about how a girl needs a mommy to explain the womanly arts of the sanitary napkin-and-belt system that's all the rage or whatever -- and I stress again that the little girl is well into her teens, okay, but keep in mind this is the same show where they renamed her last week, on a big gay whim -- and would Renee like to be that tampon advisor? Every Estelle needs her Havisham, after all. ("If she ever calls me Old Auntie Renee," Renee says wonderfully, "I will kick her.")
But really, because "We are gonna be great fathers" -- no question there, they were only divorced and whoring around on each other like three anonymous, tweaked-out weeks ago, and their marriage is even less stable than the other fifteen houses of horror on this block; plus whatever, their outdated top/bottom sexual dynamics are so fucked-up and self-abnegating and antediluvian that Liza's practically got a mother already -- but because honestly this is more about Renee's secret (and heretofore nonexistent, not to say out-of-character, since she still doesn't really have one) tick-tocking need for a bunch of sudden children to come shooting out from between her vagina fangs and into the waiting arms of, presumably, a prince that still has yet to come.
Susan brings in a bouquet of flowers to bright up the dialysis process, and her dialysis buddy Hipster Ethan loves them, and immediately she starts screaming at Dick about how they're not for him! "THEY'RE FOR PEOPLE WHO STILL POSSESS AN OUNCE OF HUMANITY!" Instead of flipping her the bird and going back to his Words With Friends game like he should, stupid Dick engages.
Susan: "EVERYBODY LOVES BALLOONS. WHY ARE YOU MEAN."
Dick: "It's called anger, Susan. I'm sure you have it, too, right underneath that Hang In There Kitty smile."
Susan: "It's like a lightbulb went off over my head just now, Dick. You're totally right. And I've got a hell of a lot to be angry about. I should stop doing my passive-aggressive, Borderline Histrionic stuff and look at my actual shit instead of constantly making everything everybody else's problem."
Dick: "Have you ever heard this term splitting? It's something people with your diagnosis do rather than deal with evaluative complexity of meaning or the subjectivity of others. Everything and everybody is either good or bad; everything that happens is either empowering or devastating, because you see yourself as a victim of circumstance and can't understand other people's reality or the fact that opposites are generally invalid and hurtful. So you approve the things that you identify with -- "good" -- and you hate the things you don't understand -- "bad." Even though really you're not making a moral or ethical judgment at all, your Feeling function has so possessed your Thinking that you honestly do think you're making a judgment call and not just seeing yourself reflected in the mirror of everybody else, in a sort of self-assigned feedback loop. And that goes even so far as to your own emotional contents: Anything you don't like about yourself, even just a bad or hurt feeling that's not even really you at all, immediately gets piled onto this Other, which represents everything bad in the world, which is really about everything bad in your head, because you're so self-centered you can't see the difference. Likewise, your victim stance feels powerful because They -- whoever They are, at this moment, that represents your unwanted contents -- are bad, which means you're good. You should really go see that movie Black Swan? It might even help with your eating disorder."
Susan: "I'M HEALED! I'm going to apologize to Zach and Paul Young immediately, and work on providing a stable home for my children. I've got a lot of work to do in here. See, the problem was that I felt so bad all the time it never would have occurred to me how solipsistic and selfish I was being. That should feel good, shouldn't it?"
Dick: "It should, but it never does. When you're the only person in the universe, it gets real lonely real fast. But I can see how a fundamentally good person like yourself would assume that the shitty option was the more considerate, or more healthy option -- self-sacrifice is a dangerous drug, and it's really hard to convince people who are used to feeling that way that life is actually much, much better than that."
Just kidding, she's terrible to him some more. And then when Ethan's organ beeper goes off, Dick dives into his briefcase with a heartbreaking hope, and so Susan does as she must: Hugs Ethan goodbye, with congrats, and then picks the spot to Dick. She doesn't speak to him, or smile. She doesn't even look at him. But she does hold his hand. And when she squeezes, he squeezes right back. And while my conversation would have been cooler, I'll accept that trade. I haven't teared up at this show in a long, long time.
Bree will nudge Keith a little bit about how "What if you had an illegitimate child" and "How would we deal with this" -- and his answers will be A) "That would be weird" and B) "Whatever Bree says is what I do now, I know my role" -- so she'll head on over to Amber's house and pay her off to keep quiet. Which, sadly, is not out of character at all. And later when she's pruning the shit out of her roses he'll ask why she's being so insane about it -- even though he's a gardener some days, he still has some questions I guess -- and she'll go, "It looks bad, but sometimes you have to be ruthless if you want something beautiful to keep growing."
And the Solises will finally have their date at the Chinese restaurant, to which Gaby will insist they take Princess Valerie, in Celia's old carseat, and Carlos will go full-sad about his wife's insanity at that point, but before they get there, they'll get carjacked by some punks, and in her hurry to save Princess Valerie before handing over the keys, she'll nearly get pistol-whipped or worse. And she'll freak out the carjackers so bad with this deranged behavior that they'll even get worried about her before driving off. And she will scream her throat bloody, all about "MY BABY! MY BABY!" And then hopefully she will be institutionalized, or at least change the topic, because damn.
But first, it's time for the big Young death-dealing getaway! But what's this? Out on the porch it's Rosenkrantz and Pembleton, with the gun from Bree's house. And does Paul recognize this weapon, and does he forgive Beth for the murder he now knows she didn't even try to do on him? You can say he does -- and even knows who the gunman was -- because they're holding the gun that started everything. Including this show we're all still somehow watching.
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