By Evany
The power goes out in Fairview, and Gabby and Mr. Maybe Mayor get stuck in an elevator -- a choice moment that Gabby views as an opportune time to get it on, Marvin-Gaye-style. Unfortunately, the power comes back on just in time for the elevator's security camera to catch the two of them in flagrante delicto. The images get leaked to the press, and Maybe Mayor's "family values" campaign takes such a big hit that Gabby feels compelled to come forward and explain that the elevator sex was merely the exuberant expression of two hot, sweaty, recently affianced people. And it is sort of the truth: Maybe Mayor did mention the possibility of marriage, and now Gabby has, I guess, accepted his casual proposal? Carlos catches the news of Gabby's looming nups on television and is less than thrilled, despite the fact that he's spent the bulk of the episode having sex with Edie in all different kinds of houses (to which she, as a real estate broker, has access). Ian cajoles Susan into asking Mike to a let-bygones-be-bygones dinner, and Susan brings along her caterer as a date for Mike. Mike, who only has eyes for Susan, sabotages all potential for sexy relations with the caterer by gleefully chit-chatting about his many prison stays. At the end of the night, Mike confesses to Ian that he still loves Susan, despite the fact that he promised never to try to lay claim to her (as per the poker bet he lost to Ian). Susan, understandably upset by the news that she was used as a wager in a poker game, gives both men the heave-ho. Lynette pushes to have the ex-cokehead chef/manager's dishes added to the menu -- against Tom's wishes -- and the Scavoria gets a good review. Also looking good? The chances that Lynette will get it on (yes, also Marvin-Gaye-style) with the new chef/manager in the not-so-distance. Oh, and also, the police come a-knocking when Mrs. McCluskey falls down the stairs during the power outage and thus is in the hospital when her short-circuited freezer betrays the undeniable stench of a dirty, dirty secret gone terribly bad (i.e., her husband's frozen body starts to melt).
Previously on Desperate Housewives: Mike and Ian shoved Susan into the pot in a friendly game of neighborhood poker, plus the stuff from last week: Mike kissed Susan, and Mrs. McC keeps a frozen husband in her basement...or as MAVO sums it, she "revealed her secret for a [ironic mini-pause] lasting relationship!"
It's late Tuesday night, MAVO tells us, when the power goes out "all over Fairview." No idea why, either. No storm, no clumsy grid operator spilling a grande soy latte on the bank of electrics back at HQ, no more-than-meets-the-eye transformer accident. Just the Hand Of God, reaching down into the dollhouse of Wisteria Lane and setting the wheels of mischief into motion, I guess! Lucky, lucky thing, too: as see-all MAVO tells us, "For those with secrets, the darkness proved quite useful indeed." For instance, Fairview's "Milly Russell," an overweight woman who can now, thanks to the gift of darkness, "indulge in another night of midnight binging." I'm not entirely sure how the power outage specifically enables this to happen? As indicated by Mary Alice's "another" modifier, Milly also snacks when the lights are fully operational, so what's the big dif? MAVO continues: "Timmy Cooper was able to sneak another peek at his father's adult magazines." Without benefit of flashlight, said Timmy unfurls a centerfold and gapes appreciatively. And again I nit-ponder how, exactly, the power outage greased the wheels here? If Timmy's night vision is this innately good, he could make his way downstairs and visit with Miss Monthly every night of the year, power outage or no. (Though, I don't know, maybe having his parents reduced to candlelight does make it easier for him to sneak around?) MAVO moves on to someone named "Marilyn Quinn," who has the blackout to thank for being able to "steal a few more puffs" of her "forbidden tobacco." Marilyn nervously grinds her cigarette out on the sidewalk out in front of her house and then sprays around a huge can of air spray. Tip to Marilyn: feel free to pointlessly Glade-er-ate the wide, wide open night air, but it isn't going to cover the smell of coffin nails on your breath, nor will it remove the irrefutable evidence of the nasty butt you just left out on the impossibly pristine sidewalk of Wisteria Lane, probably a picketable offense in that town (right up there with pedophilia).
Meanwhile, Mrs. McCluskey is on the phone with Ida. It's a mobile phone, which by rights shouldn't work sans electricity, though I suppose if anyone had a battery-backed-up phone base, it would be old-school Mrs. McC. She opens the freezer in her basement, which is not only the final resting spot of her once-husband Gilbert, but also where she stores her spare batteries (the reason for Ida's call). Mrs. McC casually asks Ida if she has any ice "laying [sic] around," because she's got some "stuff" in her freezer that she "doesn't want thawed out anytime soon." And now a tip for Mrs. McC, or really anyone planning on storing a frozen body for any length of time: invest in a generator. It'll give you peace of mind, and it'll keep the suspicious stench of decomposing flesh from drawing unwanted attention from the neighbors. Or/and move upwind of a slaughterhouse. Or, you know what? Just do what all the other Lakeview murderers do: remove all the identifiables (teeth, fingerprints) and bury it down at the club. Or chop up the body and drop it in the lake. Though maybe skip the part with the totally traceable artisanal toy box -- that's a dead giveaway.
Meanwhile, Mrs. McCluskey is on the phone with Ida. It's a mobile phone, which by rights shouldn't work sans electricity, though I suppose if anyone had a battery-backed-up phone base, it would be old-school Mrs. McC. She opens the freezer in her basement, which is not only the final resting spot of her once-husband Gilbert, but also where she stores her spare batteries (the reason for Ida's call). Mrs. McC casually asks Ida if she has any ice "laying [sic] around," because she's got some "stuff" in her freezer that she "doesn't want thawed out anytime soon." And now a tip for Mrs. McC, or really anyone planning on storing a frozen body for any length of time: invest in a generator. It'll give you peace of mind, and it'll keep the suspicious stench of decomposing flesh from drawing unwanted attention from the neighbors. Or/and move upwind of a slaughterhouse. Or, you know what? Just do what all the other Lakeview murderers do: remove all the identifiables (teeth, fingerprints) and bury it down at the club. Or chop up the body and drop it in the lake. Though maybe skip the part with the totally traceable artisanal toy box -- that's a dead giveaway.
As Mrs. McC climbs the stairs leading up from her basement, the Hand Of God fritzes off the battery-operated lantern that she's carrying, causing her to slip and tumble down, down, down the stairs. You know, they should just go ahead and change the name of this town to Fairview Falls, what with the epidemic number of spills, headers, plunges, plummets, and nose dives that we've witnessed in just the past three years. Mrs. McC reaches the end of her great fall, and the helpful H.O.G. switches the fickle lantern back to life so we can all see that she's sprawled out on the floor, unconscious, with the phone lying to her and squawking out worried Ida sounds.
CREDITS!
We return to the still-dark Wisteria Lane to find Susan, scrabbling around her kitchen drawers in search of light-producing products. When she stabs her finger on a thumbtack, Ian suggests that they go over to Mike's house to borrow a flashlight, reasoning that a plumber is sure to have plenty of extras. Ian, who spent all of last week frantically trying to get as far away as possible from Mike, is now in a fever to hang out with the man, hoping to prove to Susan that -- as promised -- he's now totally, totally over the jealousy thing. Susan, on the other hand, would prefer to avoid all mention of the man with whom she so recently swapped spit. Ian doggedly suggests they invite Mike over for dinner this coming weekend. You know, as a thanks for saving them from drowning in the kiddie-pool-sized pond? (What, the juicer Susan gave Mike isn't a big enough of a thank-you?) Susan: "You've tasted my cooking. It's not a thank-you, it's revenge." Ian offers to cook, arguing that "breaking bread" with Mike is a sure-fire way to put the pesky envy issues behind them. To distract Ian from going over to Mike's this very instant to issue his invite, Susan gropes Ian amorously. Clueless Ian interrupts their tongue session to muse, "It's funny, all that time I wasted worrying Mike would come between us, it seems laughable now, doesn't it?" Susan, after a pregger pause: "Kiss me!"
Meanwhile, the scene at Mike's house goes like this: He knocks on Carlos's bedroom door to offer him a flashlight, and an awkward scrambling can be heard from within. Concerned, Mike opens the door to find Carlos, sitting in bed (no shirt, once again) and looking guilty. Mike, who's come home a day early from a fishing trip, wonders (in a funny conspiratorial whisper) if Carlos has a "lady" in there? Because he heard "sex noises" coming form Carlos's bedroom earlier. Edie, who's standing right behind the door, bites her thumb nervously. And instead of just blaming the grunting and squealing on the television like a normal person, Carlos creepily tells Mike, "That was just me." James Denton does a nice skeeved-out reaction take and quickly closes the door. Edie lights into Carlos, telling him that "all this sneaking around is ridiculous," since she dated Mike for "like, five minutes." Okay, so now Edie's two-year crush on Mike, followed by her many declarations of love, has been reduced to "five minutes"? But Mike isn't the only person Carlos is worried about; he also thinks that they should keep things on the "down low" for Travers's sake. Edie, frustrated, gets up and starts dressing to leave, tsking, "I suppose we should tiptoe around like schoolchildren so our parents don't catch us Doing It? I feel like I'm twelve again!" Carlos: "Twelve!?" Ha. Edie sighs and agrees to find a low-profile spot for them to Do It, but she sternly warns him that she refuses to stay under the radar for long. They kiss, and Edie turns to leave, but he stops her and directs her out the window. Edie rolls her eyes.
And it's candlelight-only at the Scavoria. No power means no pizza, because, as Tootin' Rick points out, "some genius installed the pizza ovens with electric starters." Some genius named...Tom? Luckily, the stove is cooking with gas, so Tootie offers to make spaghetti carbonara. Lynette is thrilled, especially after he points out that they can ask whatever price they wants for the dish, because it isn't printed on the menu. He suggests $20, which Lynette thinks is "crazy." But when she quotes a price of $12 to some patrons and they don't even blink, she immediately amends that the twelve-dollar price tag refers to the "appetizer portion"; entrées are $20. And when the couple still doesn't blink, she tacks on a "two," making the cost of the carbonara a whopping $22. Hmmm. Maybe this flies with this one couple, but there's no way that the bulk of the customers -- almost all of them families who came there looking for affordable pizza -- are going to be happy about the sudden price-gouging. Way to destroy whatever small foundations of customer loyalty you've managed to build in these first few months in business, Lynette.
And more with the blackout contrivance: Gabby and Maybe Mayor are caught mid-elevator ride, a predicament that comes as a happy surprise for Gabby, who immediately urges him to join the Two-Hundred-Foot-High Club, actually going so far as to say, "Going down?" Aerosmith-style. Provocative shuffling noises can be heard in the darkness, and then MM's phone vibrates (that old saw?) and things get extra interesting. So of course the power goes on, and cue the mad scramble to redress. Why can't they just hit the STOP button for a few minutes while they sort out their bits? They've only just, just managed to get themselves presentable when the doors open on two firemen, who remark concernedly how very hot it must have been in there. Gabby, stuffing her bra back into Victor's pocket: "You have no idea." As they leave, the shot zooms and lingers meaningfully on the elevator's security camera, which features a menacing blinking red light.
Casa Meltdown. Mrs. McC is strapped to a gurney, and two EMTs are loading her into the back of an ambulance. According to Ida, who's fussing along beside Mrs. McC, the word on the Lane is that it's going to be "days" before the power returns -- which is a whole lot of days for a completely sourceless blackout. Mrs. McC, her thoughts clearly on the less-than-fresh surprise that's currently losing its cool in her freezer, starts to freak out, insisting that she's fine, and she doesn't need to go to the hospital. The EMTs tell her that she's "fractured a rib and may have a concussion," and they insist that she come along with them. She asks them for some ice, mentioning that her groceries "have sentimental value," an entirely weird comment that for some reason raises nary an eyebrow, though they probably just assumed that she's generally unhinged (not that far off, really). They start to tussle, and Mrs. McC gives one EMT a good crack. He tells his partner to "get the restraint," and Mrs. McC growls insanely that she's going to "sue [his] ass." Just then, the lights click on, and it's like that crazy switch flicks over to Off inside Mrs. McC's head. She immediately ceases all resistance and calmly urges them to get going, reminding them that she's "not a well woman." Exactly. But wait! Mrs. McC, it seems, has relaxed her guard all too soon: inside, the freezer short-circuits with a crackle and spark. Oh that H.O.G.!
Morning at Maybe Mayor Manor. Gabby, wearing MM's shirt from last night, is making waffles. MM gazes at her fondly. Gabby gives him a WTF, and in all seriousness, he says, "Will you marry me?" What? Who? He's been dating this woman all of three weeks, two of which she spent alternating between aloof and bored. Gabby, confused: "They're just toaster waffles." Ha. MM, dismissively: "Ah, that was just the pre-proposal, actually. The real one will be much more romantic, with a diamond ring the size of a doorknob. But just so you're prepared, I do want to marry you." This man is an idiot. Gabby: "Well, just so you're prepared, consider this my pre-refusal." He tells her that they're practically hitched already: she's spends every night there, she wears his clothes, she "burns his breakfast" (fetish-talk, I gather, for provocatively positioned Indian burns...I mean Native American burns). Gabby, with mournful Desperate-style piano-ing under, explains that her divorce "kicked [her] ass," and she isn't going to remarry until she's "sure." He asks if there isn't some way to prove how truly into her he really is, and she invites him to start by eating her "lousy waffle" (fetish for coating her abs with maple syrup). MM, in a clear attempt at cute, picks up his waffle and shoves the whole damn thing in his mouth. Gabby smiles a cute, genuine smile, the likes of which I've never actually seen Eva Longoria produce. So either Eva's finally relaxing into this role, or she's been holding back all this time, waiting for the true moment to show us her "'three weeks in love' face."
Ian and Susan are unloading groceries from her car when Ian notices Mike doing some watering out in front of his place. Immediately, Ian starts back in with the incessant wanting-to-invite-Mike-to-dinner thing. Susan very cleverly sends him inside with the groceries while she dashes off to run interference. Susan to Mike: "Ian-is-going-to-invite-you-to-dinner-Saturday-night-and-you-are-not-I- repeat-not-going-to-accept." Mike = confused. Susan rushes to explain that dinner is Ian's plan to prove how not-jealous he is of Mike, a state Susan describes as "ironic" (based on the kiss with which Mike curled Susan's toes on her oh-so-recently). Mike saucily teases that she sure seemed ready to climb aboard that buss at the time. It's been a long, long while since I've seen James Denton looking this animated -- maybe he finally broke with that crazy diet that I heard he went on in preparation for some other role (Undead or Alive: A Zombedy, perhaps?)? And then, even more saucily, like Alfredo saucily, Mike totally defies Susan's request and accepts Ian's dinner invitation. That cocky-eyebrowed bastard.
Edie, in real estate agent mode, arranges for Carlos to see one of the houses she's trying to sell, but it's all a ruse to get access to a free bed for a few hours of sexing, Goldilocks-style. Gross! I wish I could say that this is just one of Edie's many kinks, but it turns out that they're rolling in someone else's hay only because Edie's too cheap to pay for a hotel. We are treated to a montage -- as MAVO witticizes something about "location, location, location" -- of the two of them flopping onto a series of different beds, the last of which is a child's racecar twin. Grossest! ("Mommy? Why is my bed sticky?") Pffft. Why can't they just do it in the car like any other self-respecting teenagers?
Casa "There's Been a Change on the Menu." Tom is gingerly sitting at the dinner table while Tootie serves the family his "secret risotto" (the secret ingredient isn't cocaine, sadly, but spinach). Lynette is all a-twitter and a-excited about adding the fancy new dish to the menu, but Tom thinks a spinach-laden item is going to sound like punishment food to the kids, which is a big dining factor in their family-friendly eatery. But lo! The traitorous wee Scavos actually love the stuff, cooing and grunting happily as they shovel it in. Cheapskate Lynette especially loves the risotto because it costs only a dollar to make, but they get to fleece their customers to the tune of $20 a plate for the stuff. Tom acknowledges that the risotto's "good," but insists that it's "not us." And he's right: Lynette's Strip-Mine Special isn't exactly family restaurant fare. Tootie tries to make a case for the dish, but Tom stops him in his tracks, telling him that he can make whatever he wants when he gets his own restaurant. Tom's manly breast-pounding speech is somewhat muted, though, when littlest Scavo Penny speaks her very first words on the show, maybe even ever: "More please!" She holds out her empty plate at Tootie, and Tom scowls. What is it, Tommy? Is your diaper giving you a rash?
A scruffy, nervous-looking guy knocks on Maybe Mayor's door, and Gabby answers. Scruffy has a package for MM, but it's "personal," so he's reluctant to leave it with "the maid." Gabby scowls, grabs the package out of his hand, and slams the door in his face. Of course, because it's private, she opens it immediately. Inside? Half-naked elevator-cam photos of Gabby and MM, along with a note that reads: "If you want the negatives I demand $50,000.00/XX!" Shouldn't that be "XX/100"? Have I been doing it wrong these many years? Gabby goes running outside and tackles Scruffy out on the lawn. Just then, a H.O.G. police car drives by and stops to break up the scuffle. They cuff Scruffs (who, it turns out, is the guy who monitors the security cameras at the hotel) and ask Gabby to hand over the photos for "evidence." And despite her kerfuffle with the local boys in blue, she readily hands over the photos. "Guard them with your life," she commands. Yeah, okay ma'am.
The three be-penised Ps are outside (Penny and Kayla are MIA), involved in some mysterious activity that requires both a basketball and a plastic axe -- baxeketball? -- and listening to Tom and Lynette scream at each other inside. Lynette: "We've been open three months now and we're barely making a profit!" Now, I'm no expert, but I've always heard that a restaurant that makes its way into the black within the first year is already doing way better than most places, so by those standards, the Scavoria is doing pretty great. The kids mutter amongst themselves, and together they agree to send the non-twin P. Inside, Tom angrily decries Lynette and Tootie's plan to "toss out [his] idea." Easy, Tom. It's just a pizza parlor, not some amazing breakthrough invention that keeps your socks from sucking down into your boots or anything. Little P interrupts to ask for...what? His parents to stop fighting? No. Contrary to first impressions, the kids could care less about the fighting up on the parental Mount Olympus. They just want "fudgesicles." Now where is this sudden need for a frozen novelty treat coming from, I wonder? Tom and Lynette scream "NO!" at P, in unison. At least that's one thing they can both still agree on. P hangs his head and leaves. Tom, lowing himself gingerly onto his hospital bed in the living room, bossy-bosses: "The menu is not changing. End of discussion." Lynette rather bitchily invites Tom, who's clearly unable to do much of anything (other than bitch and moan...thankfully his operation left his whiner fully intact), to come down the restaurant and try and stop her. And that's one more blowjob Tom won't be getting.
Outside, the Ps do some Tom-style moaning of their own about the dearth of fudgesicles on their personal horizon. What is it with these kids and the fudgesicles? There was as time when Parker was trying to give them away, but the obsession over getting some feels a little forced. One of the twin Ps remembers that Mrs. McC always has a ready supply, and she's conveniently not at home to stop them from grabbing some. Ah, so that's the reason for the ham-fisted fudgesicle side plot: someone needs to discover the defrosted Gilbert.
And that's just what happens. Older P sneaks in Mrs. McC's basement window. (Rule #2 when hiding a body: always, always keep your windows locked tight.) He grabs a sodden box of fudgesicles out of the freezer, and as he's busy examining the flaccid contents therein, Gilbert catches his eye. His face goes slack and he slowly, slowly backs away from the freezer, conveniently leaving the lid wide open, so now the corpse can start rotting in earnest.
Morning. Gabby heads out for a jog and spies The Fairview Herald on her lawn. The headline reads "LANG SEXCAPADE CAUGHT ON TAPE!" and the story features a choice photo from the blackmailer's collection of pics. Cut to...
...Maybe Mayor, reading the same headline. His campaign manager is busy reading Gabby the riot act for handing over the photos to the police, since "everybody in town knows that the police chief is the mayor's brother-in-law," oops. MM interrupts the guy mid-upbraid and orders him to set up a press conference. He stalks off, and Gabby sticks around to try to cheer up MM. But he sums up the pickle he's in pretty irrefutably: "I'm running a family-values campaign, and I had sex in an elevator." MM tells her, with tooth-aching sincerity, that the only things he cares about in this life are this campaign and Gabby, and if forced to choose which of the two he'd rather lose, he'd pick the campaign. Oh, Victor!
And back to the Two Men and a Lady storyline. Susan is sampling horse d'oeuvres for her wedding, and her caterer is none other than Roz from Frasier. Susan is being unusually firm about her selections -- crab cakes and mini-quesadillas, which strikes me as a somewhat odd combo -- in a clear effort to convince herself of the strength of her opinions. Roz is impressed, calling Susan "the most decisive bride [she's] ever met." Susan guesses it's probably just that she's in a "rush," and Roz eyes Susan's uterus meaningfully. Because nothing says "shotgun wedding" like Susan's skeletal frame. Roz: "Don't worry, you are not showing at all!" Susan rushes to clear up the misunderstanding, blabbering about how she's just really eager to get married to Ian. She says that a lot -- "to Ian" --and it's very clear, even to Roz, that she's struggling to talk herself into it. Roz says some encouraging words about how great Ian is, asking if it isn't possible that the guy has a brother. Susan's eyes light up with that familiar Idiotic Idea glow. Susan eagerly asks Roz if she's single, and Roz world-wearily confesses that she's "in between disappointments." Ah! And is she free for dinner tomorrow? Roz: "Is this some lame setup? Please say yes!" Whee, Peri Gilpin is awesome. Susan tells Roz about the "guy" she knows, who's "single, and handsome, and charming..." her voice trails off wistfully. Roz: "You had me at 'guy'." I'm beyond over the "You had me at X" line, but still, Peri manages to make it fresh. Peri, Peri, Peri!
Lynette catches Gilbertsicle-traumatized Parker staring inside their freezer and wonders if he's doing all right these days, re: "seeming a little mopey." P leaps on the opening and asks if they can go visit Mrs. McC. Cut to...
...Parker and Lynette in Mrs. McC's room at the hospital. Lynette dashes out to fill up a vase with water for the flowers they brought her, and Parker immediately reports that he saw "the man" in her basement. Mrs. McC's smile stays stuck on her face for a long couple beats, then she calls out to Lynette that she'd like her to go down to the cafeteria and get her some Jell-O. Lynette obliges, and Mrs. McC sits Parker down for "a little grown-up talk," which we don't actually get to hear. A few minutes later, Lynette returns and affectionately watches them through the glass door as they talk to each other animatedly. Inside, Mrs. McC ends her grown-up talk with, "So can you see why I had to do what I did?" Parker, looking happy and relieved, nods. So I'm guessing that she either gave him some sort of incentive-based story, like she's collecting Gilbert's social security checks in order to keep herself in fudgesicles, of which, by the way, Parker is now welcome to eat as many as he likes as often as he likes. Or maybe she told him some superhero-related yarn, a la the one Lynette used with Art, which has been proven to put Parker off the scent. Whatever the story is, she swears him to secrecy, and Lynette walks in with a bowl of pudding, which Mrs. McC gives to Parker: "A good boy like him deserves a treat."
Edie and Carlos are in another strange bed, and Edie pulls the classic, "What are you thinking about?" Which feels off to me; Edie isn't really a fishing, "What are you thinking about?" kind of girl. It turns out that Carlos is just thinking about how he prefers the feng shui of the bedroom in the "Spanish colonial on Third." Edie, on the other hand, was thinking about how "really happy" she is. And in yet another scene stolen from Sex And The City (an early episode in which Samantha has two real estate agents, one of whom walks into an apartment just as Samantha is giving the other agent full access to her Downtown Area), the door opens and one of Edie's real estate competitors walks in: a flamboyantly gay man named Russell, who's wearing a silk animal print top. Russell takes the couple to whom he's showing the place and hustles them out of the room, telling them in a scandalized tone that the "bed's not made." He closes the door and, with hand on hip, delightedly quips at Edie, "Well! I see you can't close a sale without opening something else!" That line would have been so much better if he'd just gone ahead and said it: "You can't close a sale without opening your legs." Or what about "Now I can see why the market's in the gutter"? Or "No wonder your number are so low, nobody's going to buy when you're giving it away for free!"? Aw, snack! Edie counters Russell's snark with a reference to his infamous "open house," the one where "they're still disinfecting the Jacuzzi." Russell: "Slut!" Edie: "Bitch!"
Russell leaves, and Edie and Carlos mourn the demise of their status as secret lovers: Russell is almost surely on the phone already, "speed-dialing" everyone in town to report the news about Edie, the Full Service agent. Edie is pretty nonchalant about it, though, not really caring if anyone finds out about that they're spreading their CSI fluids all over town. But Carlos is totally bent out of shape: "If Gabby finds out, she's going to hit the ceiling!" Edie can't imagine that Gabby would care too much, since she's with Maybe Mayor. And if she really thinks that, she knows nothing about women: for some ladies, sexing an ex is almost as bad as sexing the current, and Gabby has all the marks of just such a lady -- namely, the desire to have men worshipping her hand-in-hand with never, ever wanting them to get over her. Carlos dismissively dismisses Gabby's Maybe Mayor affair as a flash in the pan, and it suddenly occurs to Edie -- and Nicollette Sheridan handles the transformation of the realization really nicely -- that Carlos is still not over Gabby. He staunchly denies it; he just doesn't want to screw up his new friendship with Gabby, and I'm actually inclined to believe him. But Edie isn't biting: "I don't know who the bigger moron is, you or me." Isn't it possible that they're both equally moronic? Though really I don't have enough invested in this thing they have going to have much of an opinion on the matter.
Meanwhile, the trouble date is just about to begin. Ian answers the door and awkwardly thanks Mike for coming, and Mike leans in and gives him a hearty "you're welcome" hug. Wait a second...is Mike...being...funny? Susan walks into the room, and she's wearing a sweet little Grecian-esque dress made out of a remarkably pretty fabric -- layered patches of turquoise and rust and light blue -- along with a long delicate necklace with a smattering of bright orange bead-things...add THAT to shopping cart! Mike unleashes his overenthusiastic hug on Susan. Where did he get that disconcerting embrace? Montgomery Awkward? Mike, who seems to be really having fun making himself uncomfortable, gets thrown just a bit when Roz walks in. And now it's Susan turn to have a little fun. She introduces Roz, and Mike shoots Susan A Look, which Susan answers by cocking her eyebrow ever so slightly. See, James Denton? That's how you do the meaningful eyebrow raise. You don't have to Spock it up; a little eyebrow really does go a long way. It isn't long, though, before Mike finds a way to foil Susan's romantic bait-and-switch: when talk turns to favorite cuisines, he deliberately brings up the state of prison food, which he knows something about, you see. Due to his time in the big house? Make that timeS, as in multiple prison stays? Roz/Peri's reaction -- confused, startled, yet still hopeful -- is just fantastigreat here. Mike then goes on to describe, with hilarious relish, the story of a cellmate, "Stilts," who was caught with a "bowl-full of ears" upon his arrest. Ears. And yet they call him...Stilts. That is so weird and great. Susan aims a brutal kick at Mike under the table, but it's Roz's shin that gets the message. This just isn't Roz's night, is it?
Ian and Roz head off to the kitchen to rustle up coffee and the special dessert Roz brought with her: two different kinds of potential Susan-and-Ian wedding cakes for sampling. While they're off coffee-caking, Susan snaps at Mike for coming off like "Manson" in front of Roz, but Mike doesn't give a fig about what Roz thinks of him. Why should he? He's in love with Susan! Susan tries to shhh him, but he's manic with his need to declare his feelings for her. Why is it that Mike suddenly no longer feels honor-bound to stick to the poker bet he made with Ian? Mike: "I remember everything now! When I got run over, I was on my way to propose to you." Oh. I guess that's the memory that finally loosened Mike's lips. So...is this why James Denton's been doing the stone-faced non-acting thing this entire season? It was all deliberate "post-coma" emotionlessness, meant to be viewed in direct contrast to tonight's suddenly galvanized version of Mike? And if so, does that make Denton a really great actor? Or a really bad one? In any case, love-drunk Mike presses Susan to tell him what she would have said that night, if he'd made it to her trailer. Susan says, "You know what I would have said, but that doesn't matter now." It really is pretty dickly of Mike to put her on the spot right now, right here. Can't he like write her a letter and let her process all this information in her own space and time? That way, the writers could set things up so the letter would get lost or switched or smeared, and wacky hijinks would ensue! Mike suddenly gets all serious and eye-contacty, and he asks her to look him in the eye, etc. and tell him that she didn't feel any magic tingling when he kissed her the other night.
Susan's standing there, speechless like a mime in the headlights, when Roz walks in with a tray of two perfect little cakes and cheerfully sing-songs, "Who wants wedding cake!?" Susan and Mike jump away from each other, and Roz's smile falters. You know, I've totally had friends do that to me -- set me up with some guy they have a crush on about whom they themselves aren't in a position to act on their feelings. And it is always so weird and so, so obvious. And not at all arousing.
Later. The cakes have been served, and they're all oohing and ahhing over the yumminess. Roz points out that each cake has a theme: the one in front of Ian is "very British [with] fondant icing and toffee ganache" and very "rich and elegant," and the one in front of Mike is "classic American [featuring] white cake with butter-cream frosting," and very "down to earth and sweet." The allusion -- Man is to Cake as Cake is to Man! -- is so obvious and clunky that it's barely even a metaphor anymore. And yet, all artlessness aside, I have to say I really love this scene. Though I should probably come clean about the fact that I have a long, well documented attraction-bordering-on-fetish for men with cakes, so this setup is profoundly hard for me to resist. Susan is almost as moved as I am; she stutters and hems, and then suddenly she just starts screeching about she can't possibly choose, and telling everyone to "stop pressuring [her]." Silent, confused staring. Susan meekly returns to her seat, and she quietly apologizes that she was just "having a little sugar rush."
Later still. Ian puts Roz into her car, apologizing to her for what is clearly not the first time. She drives off with a very "over it" look on her face. Aw, does this mean we're never going to see her again? That sure is sad. Inside, Ian walks into the kitchen to find Mike and Susan in the middle of an urgent whisper session. Ian is all, "Excuse me?" And Mike decides it's "time to level with him." Oh boy. Mike totally spills it: he loves Susan and he wants her back. But the question is, does Susan love Mike? Mike sure seems to think so, and he cites the heat of their kiss from earlier in the week. Like an idiot, Ian pique-edly calls Mike on his poker-bet promise. Susan is all, "???" And when Ian tries to explain using comforting words like "I never would have wagered you if I didn't have a good hand!", she gives him the boot. Mike, too. The wedding's off! The kissing booth is closed! And Karl is probably looking pretty good right about now, right?
Down at the Scavoria, Lynette is adding up the day's receipts and looking beyond exhausted. Tootie literally hands her a plate of his "sage ravioli." Lynette is in love with the ravioli, and she starts getting excited about how much money it's going to make when it's featured as tomorrow's special. Tootie quietly suggests that she ask Tom if it's okay first, which sends Lynette into a tirade about Tom and his back pain and his disgruntlement about being sidelined...but then she catches herself complaining about the pitfalls of her marriage to this toothpaste-ad-handsome man whom she hardly knows. Lynette tries to shoo him off to home to get some rest; he's at the restaurant more than she is! Doesn't he have any friends? He explains that he lost half his friends in his dark "White Lines" days, and the other half are all people he shouldn't see if he wants to keep his nose clean. Lynette nods sympathetically, then absentmindedly takes down her hair and shakes out some of her tiredness. Tootie, unable to resist himself, says that thing that boys always tell girls, about how she should wear her hair down. Um, was that a pick-up? Or delivery?
Back at Casa de Cuckold, Tom is lying in his bed when Kayla rolls up with today's Herald, eager to show him a review she found of the Scavoria. Tom is super excited, but the thrill quickly turns to kill as Kayla reads the article aloud and it's all about how great the food is now that Tootie's cooking, and what a "groan" it was back when Tom was running the show. Tom is just crushed and totally weepy. Awww...yeah, I know he's been an incomparably heinous anus for the last many months, and yet...awww. Sad! And I know Kayla is a total monster and capable of almost anything, but I'm pretty sure she brought the review to Tom's attention purely out of an innocent desire to please, and not to deliberately drive another wedge between him and Lynette. Pretty sure, at least. Kind of sure?
The camera lingers on the front page of the paper, which features a story about the "Lang Bang" story. Cut to...
...Victor "Maybe Mayor" Lang's big press conference. There's a huge crowd of reporters, and they're clearly out for blood. One asks whether the woman he was photographed with is a hooker. Gabby, who's lurking in the back but looking pretty obviously like a woman who's trying to hide the fact that she was photographed having sex in an elevator, gasps in horror. But miraculously enough, no one notices, and they just keep shouting and badgering MM. Gabby watches on in horror for a few moments, then she cuts loose with one of her patented "that does it!"s. And she marches right on up to the podium and introduces herself as "that woman," and miffedly explains that moments before those scandalous photos were snapped, MM popped the question. And yes, she agreed to marry him. She then gives an amazing impromptu stump speech about how MM is not only the "kind of man you marry," but also the "kind of man you vote for." The fevered pitch of the press immediately downshifts to softer, friendlier "when's the wedding?" kinds of questions, and the grim face of the campaign manager melts into a Grinchian smile. And yet...I'm not all that sure about the "family values" of a man who proposes to a woman a scant week after his wife clears out her closet. At the very least, he's impulsive and has a revolving door of a married life. At worst, it looks as though he was cheating with Gabby behind his wife's back all along (a much more reasonable explanation for the crazy-shortness of his and Gabby's courtship). Though I guess both of those options are still better than the hooker story the press started out with.
Ida comes over to Mrs. McC's house to bring in the mail, letting herself in with a key under the mat. (And rule #3 in the Illegal Body Storage for Halfwits: Don't leave a key under the mat.) The door swings open, and the rank smell of dirty secrets punches her right in the sniffer. Curious, she heads inside, and a few seconds later? Ida screams, you scream, we all scream over poor old melted and maybe-murdered Gilbert. Cut to...
... the hospital. A duo of cops approaches Mrs. McC's bedside. She glares at them and then self-incriminates herself by idiotically asking, "The little bastard [Parker] gave me up, didn't he?" And I feel a MAVO coming on! Or maybe it's just the chili.
Carlos is chopping up some vegetables in Mike's kitchen when an announcement about "Gabrielle Marquez" and her engagement to the Pretty Much Guaranteed Mayor comes on the TV news. Edie busts in: "I don't know if you've heard, but..." He nods and weakly gestures at the television. Edie gives his shoulder a nice, gentle pat.
Lynette is getting ready to leave for work. She tells Tom that they just announced on the radio that Fairview (i.e., the Hand Of God) is still "having problems" with its power, so there's probably going to be another "rolling blackout" today. Ah, so that explains everything. She pointedly asks him if he saw the review in the paper, and he pointedly says that he did, and then he pointedly clams up. She gives a little hurt "whatever" shrug and heads out the door. Inside her car, she sits there for a second, and then she dreamily removes her hair from its chastity clip. Uh-oh. Can I get an extra-large pizza, topped with hot beef and Spanish fly, on a super-thin crust?
Hey, do you guys remember how, just three short months ago, Tom gave a toast at the opening of the Scavoria, thanking Lynette for everything and telling her how much he appreciated her? Yeah, I can't really remember it, either.
MAVO: "Power. It's the type of thing most people don't think about until it's taken away." Tom, looking like a crushed and dented shell of a man, is just sitting in his chair, staring off into space. The power goes out and the fan beside him dies, and he just keeps on just sitting there, alone, in the dark. Get it? GET IT?
MAVO: "Whether it's the political power of the many." Gabby and PMGM take in the latest Herald headline ("LANG BOUNCES BACK IN THE POLLS!") and exchange an ebullient kiss.
MAVO: "Or a lover's influence over just one." Edie and Carlos are busy kissing in Mike's living room when in walks Mike. Guilty Carlos turns to look at Mike, but Edie just grabs his head and forces him back into the kiss. So I guess Mike knows about Edie and Carlos?
MAVO: "We all want some sort of power in our lives. If only to give ourselves choices." Susan takes off Ian's engagement ring and sighs mournfully.
MAVO: "Yes, to be without choices, to feel utterly powerless?" A policeman leads Mrs. McC into a cell and slides the barred door shut. MAVO continues: "Well, it's a lot..." the lights go off, and Mrs. McC is left there, blinking like a baby bird in the dark, her arm in a sad little sling, "...like being alone in the dark." Mark my words: insurance scam.
Huh. For an episode that features blackmail and wedding proposals and wedding cancellations and melting bodies, it feels an awful lot like nothing really happened. Maybe week, things will be better. Because there's...going to be a tarantula? Loose on Wisteria Lane? Or something?