By Heathen
As they do every week, this episode of Desperate Housewives opens with Mary Alice sounding like she's reading a children's book to an especially stupid youngster. "Breeeeeee belieeeeeeved in old-faaaaaashioned vaaaalues," says MAVO, her vowels and words more strung-out than Paula Abdul. We see KimberBree trot down the stairs with a laundry basket in her hands, looking far happier than anyone with a pile of clothes to fold has any business being. "Things like respect for God," MAVO lists as we see a painting of Jesus on the wall. "Importance of family," MAVO adds as KimberBree passes by a Sears Portrait Studio special of Clan Van De Kamp, complete with a dark black background that seems to symbolize the amount of joy frequently found in this house. "And love of country," MAVO finishes, as we see the pièce de resistance: a loving framed picture of Ronald Reagan. Maybe she just loved Knute Rockne, All-American. ["I call bullshit on that particular prop. I can buy that someone not related to him might have a Reagan photo framed in her house, but not one that big!" -- Wing Chun] MAVO goes on to tell us, in her sing-song way, that KimberBree is so devoted to her own values system that it legitimately surprises her when she's confronted with people who don't share it. KimberBree must spend an awful lot of time in shock, staring slack-jawed at newspapers, magazines, and photos of France. But in the scene, her particular vexation comes when she uncovers an unopened condom in the laundry basket. Plucking it from her linens, she holds it up and stares grimly at her latex enemy.
Immediately, KimberBree assumes that the condom belongs to Rex's cheating wang. "You promised the cheating has stopped, Rex!" she says angrily. Rex, looking fatigued, swears it's not his condom. And why would it be? Rex kept his cheating a secret for ages. He's clearly good at it. Why would he carry a condom on him? Wouldn't he leave it in his car, or his briefcase, or at his girlfriend's house, or in his favorite whore's pink pleather thigh-highs? There are better places to hide a condom than in one's pants. Unless one is wearing the condom under one's pants, but that would be absurd. You can't impregnate pants. Rex begs KimberBree to stop yelling at him, because he's not feeling terribly well. And the bags under his eyes could carry a million condoms. I'm guessing these are side effects from whatever faux heart medication the psychotic pharmacist gave him. I like how the show handled that, having us slowly see it happening -- the way it would in real life, I assume, although I've never monkeyed with anyone's heart meds so I suppose I'm kind of ignorant. KimberBree petulantly orders Rex out of her house, and he tiredly points out that he's not the only guy in the house who uses that laundry basket. Marcia Cross somehow channels the act of clutching one's pearls into a single facial expression. It's great. And she is wearing pearls, both as a necklace and as buttons on her orange polo-style sweater. There's also something surreptitiously delicious about a semi-priggish character wearing jewelry whose name is synonymous with the act of a guy getting his rocks off on your neck.
KimberBree gasps to Rex that Andrew can't be having sex -- he's just a boy! Will no one think of the children? "He's sixteen," Rex says tiredly, popping more Pills of Pharmaceutical Tomfoolery and lying down on the couch to rest his poisoned head. KimberBree wants to forbid Andrew from having sex, or search his room and confiscate all the prophylactics, but Rex disagrees: "He's a teenage boy. We could take away his penis, and he'd still try to have sex," Rex argues." Hee. KimberBree frets that doing nothing is tacit compliance with Andrew's premarital boffing. "Let me put this another way," Rex says, pausing for dramatic effect. "Do you want to become a grandmother?" KimberBree is galled.
We cut upstairs to Bree coming out of Andrew's room, bumping into her son as he's entering. She smiles angelically as MAVO reminds us that, yes, KimberBree's family values matter to her, but she also feels that "it's better to be safe than sorry." Andrew immediately spies the treasure his mother has left on his bed: the condom, which appears to be either green or blue, and which basically says, "Use it if you have to...but I KNOW WHAT YOUR WANG IS DOING."
We hit the main titles. As they roll, only our hearing-impaired viewers are treated to a closed-captioned ad for Ford: "Sponsored by Ford, with six all-new vehicles." Sneaky, Ford. Sneaky. And you know which one I'm not going to buy? The Freestyle, because I hate that commercial with a white-hot fire. For shame, Brooke Shields.
As we push back in on Wisteria Lane, Mary Alice has a new story to tell us. "Each new morning in suburbia brings with it a new set of lies," she once-upon-a-times. She totally makes me think of that scene in Three Men and A Baby where Tom Selleck is reading a bloody boxing article from Sports Illustrated to the infant in exactly this voice, and when one of the other guys calls him out on it, Tom coos, "It doesn't matter what you read. It's the tone you use." We drift toward Unnamed Harried Housewife, who is slapping a "My Child Is An Honor Student" bumper sticker onto her car, and doing so haphazardly enough to make it wrinkle. "Little white lies, told not to hurt..." MAVO drawls, as a postman walks by and tells UHH that she looks lovely this morning and elicits a bright and delighted expression from the woman, "but to make life more pleasant." Cut to Carlos getting a pack of mail from the letter-carrier. MAVO notes that some lies are protective, and Carlos goes off on a fake-jovial rant about how he can't believe "this" -- presumably a late notice in the mail -- and blaming it on online banking. The postman smiles politely and leaves, because his job description doesn't involve dancing through somebody's bullshit, and that stuff's murder to get out of your boots. Carlos drops the façade and looks worried.
"Of course, every now and then, the day arrives when someone finally decides to tell the truth," Mary Alice tells us with smug satisfaction. Inside someone's house -- I'm sorry, rookie DH recapper here, and so I can't always tell whose house, but I think it's KimberBree's -- the Good-Times Gang, minus Edie of course, is sitting around a table talking about Mike. Gabrielle is shocked that Mike shot himself in the stomach. Susan lamely offers up that it was an accident, but it's written all over her face that she knows no one will believe that, even if she does. Indeed, everyone greets this with a what-the-fuck expression. "I know you want to trust him," Gabrielle says slowly, "but he had a dead woman's jewelry in his garage." AND A FAT PILE OF CASH HIDDEN IN HIS LARDER, Susan. I feel like Susan is a walking advertisement for the practical application of math, as she is utterly unable to add two and two -- or in this case, gun + money + weird accident + did we mention the money?!? -- and reach the right answer. Susan hedges that all they know is that Lynette's twins somehow turned up with Mrs. Kravitz's bracelet, and they claim it was from Mike's garage. "What, are you saying the twins murdered [Mrs. Kravitz]?" Bree tsks. "I wouldn't put it past them," Lynette says with a touch of mournfulness. Chin up, Lynette -- when they're in prison for serial murder, they'll be a lot easier for you to handle and you'll have plenty of time for yoga. Everyone wins. Well, except for those who are not you. Susan figures that The Triplets of Hellville are as likely a suspect as Mike himself. "He's a good guy. I know him," she says. But the Biblical sense does not a complete picture give. Lynette admits that she doesn't think Mike did it either, but knows that if they don't report the bracelet's appearance, they will be withholding evidence. No one mentions that they could claim they don't know where they got it, but I guess that would open up a can of worms eventually too, so...hey, whatever, they're probably doing the right thing. "If he's innocent, it should be simple," KimberBree says, chirpily grabbing the phone. Gabrielle puts a hand on her arm and then turns to Susan and says that they will only do what Susan wants. Everyone looks sorry for her. Susan queasily tells them to make the call. KimberBree briskly wonders if she should call 911, even though it's not an emergency. There's some banter about how urgent an old murder is. "And I don't want to tie up the line," KimberBree furrows. Susan snaps that they just need to make the damn call.
There is a knock at Susan's door. Julie answers it to find Zack standing there, atwitter and aglow with the pubescent awkwardness in which he constantly marinates. Julie warns him that Susan will flip her lid if she sees Zack over there. He eagerly hands her a party invitation, and bless him, it's got balloons and script all over it, and is about as dorky as a high-school party invitation can get. It's practically saying, "Come to Beat-Me-Up Birthday 2005! Now With Medicated Tragic Hero!" ["That queer invitation broke my heart a little bit. Poor dumb Zack." -- Wing Chun] Julie bites her lip and reminds Zack that, in case it has escaped his rather single-minded attention, Susan thinks he is three delicious birthday cupcakes short of a full pan. "You've got to come," he pleads. "You're the reason I'm doing this." Julie promises she'll try to talk to her mother, but shoos him away, and sadly watches him leave. But I feel like it's more pity she's feeling than anything else.
Miguel's roommate Justin shows up at Casa Jollies and offers to be Gabrielle's gardener for free, since Miguel said they can't afford one any more. Gabrielle, naturally, is suspicious, and crosses her arms over the two biggest motivations for Justin's generous offer. "You want to mow my lawn for free?" she asks, eyes narrowed. "Water your flowers, trim your bushes..." Justin offers suggestively. "I could do everything Miguel did for you." Gabrielle is not impressed with this, and turns him down flat: "My husband is home a lot, and if any bush needs trimming, he takes care of it." Justin would prefer to keep flogging the lawn metaphor, and so suggests that such a pretty lawn might need a whole lot of pruning. Unfortunately, Gabrielle's retort is not "That's why I have a bikini waxer, kid." Nor does she politely ask when he expects to weed her garden if her husband is around; probably she is tired of being compared with shrubbery. She lets Justin down with another polite no and less-polite glare, and stomps back to her house, which upsets Justin enough that he chases her and grabs her arm a bit roughly. Gabrielle whirls, gasps, and then tries to scare him by telling him that Carlos is under house arrest and has a lot of latent anger he's eager to take out on someone. Justin lets her go.
Lynette putters around the kitchen looking typically harried, while letting Peter, Piper, and Picked run hog wild in the living room playing pseudo-hockey. It doesn't look dark -- isn't this what "outside" is for? Or, if they're under house arrest, maybe Lynette shouldn't give them access to any...oh, I don't know...items? Gay Matt schlumps inside and quietly suggests that his sons take it elsewhere. They ignore him, because they've watched Melrose Place and they know what woodwork looks like when they see it. Lynette asks how Gay Matt's day was, and learns that his big vice-presidential promotion ended up going to somebody else. "I don't get it," he says. "How does Tim Duggan, Big Blowhard, get the promotion over me?" He then sighs and admits that he's just being bitter. Lynette kisses him, presumably so that he knows what real bitter tastes like. Peck, Pickled, and Peppers are still at it in the living room, so Gay Matt ineffectually wonders if they could take the Stanley Cup outside. Hockey fans disagree, as this is the closest they will come to the Stanley Cup for another year, maybe two. The P Patrol ignores Gay Matt again, although I swear, those kids are one more "reprimand" away from mistaking their father for the banister and trying to slide down him. Lynette assumes that her husband is stupid and asks if he bothered to let his boss, Mr. Peterson, know that he wanted the promotion. In a twist, Gay Matt is stupid, because he figured that his eight-plus years of service would speak for themselves against Tim Duggan's two years and top-notch blowing skills. "I'm not going to beg," Gay Matt says. "I'm not saying beg," Lynette replies. "You just have to step up from time to time...Nobody respects a shrinking violet." Apt advice in some circumstances, but Lynette, the guy is depressed. He doesn't need you to tell him he's a giant pussy -- the whole room can smell the Whiskas. Gay Matt defensively tries to say that there are many ways to be a leader, and he prefers quiet efficiency, but Lynette interrupts: "TAKE THAT RACKET OUTSIDE," she yells at Punxsutawney, Phil, and Pgroundhog. This silences them, and they scurry outside on cue, leaving Gay Matt alone with the sound of his own purring.
Mike corners Susan while she's unloading her groceries. He thinks she's avoiding him. Over his shoulder, Susan sees the cops suddenly swarming Wisteria Lane, because it has taken them two days to act on the Mrs. Kravitz tip. And Mike, who has clearly never watched an episode of anything in his life, continues focusing on Susan despite the fact that her eyes are darting around, she's acting shifty, and she keeps peering over his shoulder. She tries to avoid accepting Mike's dinner invitation until she sees a cop motioning for her to get down; at this, she hands Mike her groceries and then dives for the turf, because she is melodramatic. As the cops cuff Mike and drag him away, Susan watches, with a sadness I can only hope is replicated when she looks in the mirror later and realizes she's wearing orange furry pants, a shirt halfway between olive and lime, and a brown bra. She looks like a pile of dead leaves in October.
Over at Casa Condom, KimberBree and her family are eating dinner. Andrew makes fun of Zack's pool-party invitations. It's kind of mean of Andrew, but they did sort of look like they should have been for a party thrown for an eleven-year-old, and I can at least understand why people aren't like, "Hello? Evite, anyone?" Rex and KimberBree smile across the table at each other, apparently basking in the glow of familial love, and the bonds that bashing another person's kid can forge. Oh well, at least this isn't as miserable a family table as it used to be. Andrew says he plans to attend the party because he and his friends think swimming might be fun, even if the rest of it sucks. KimberBree fishes for information and decides that Andrew will use the party to pork his friend, "Lisa with the pierced navel," so she levies an 11 PM curfew on pool-party night. Rex heaves a sigh and points out that a curfew is not a chastity belt. Penetration happens before 11, sometimes, KimberBree. "You may be able to abdicate parental responsibility, but I cannot," she retorts airily. Andrew is amused, and wonders if this has to do with the condom. KimberBree threatens that if Andrew gets Lisa pregnant, he has to marry her. Rex clearly wants to drop through the floor. You know, even if he thinks this will do nothing to prevent The Sex, it wouldn't kill him to back KimberBree up on teenage pregnancy being a real risk, and not an ideal one. I like Rex, largely because Steven Culp is a worthy Marcia Cross opponent, but dude, sack up and parent.
Anyway, Andrew thinks this is all hilarious, which galls KimberBree until Andrew giggles that the condom isn't his. And KimberBree is about to get up in Rex's grill again, until Andrew very pointedly looks at Danielle and snickers. Rex's face falls, because apparently a young boy getting out his hammer for some nailing is very funny unless it is your daughter who is the one being pounded. But with your son -- well, boys will be carpenters. And hey, Jesus was a carpenter, and KimberBree has a framed picture of him in the hallway, so it can't be all bad. But Danielle hangs her guilty head as KimberBree and Rex gasp in unison. "You suck, you know that?" she pouts to her amused brother. We fade to black figuring that, yeah, he kind of does, but also, who among us wouldn't have done the same under false accusation?
KimberBree slips into Danielle's room, where her daughter is still very upset that The Great Condom Caper of 2005 has unspoiled, and yet the offending condom itself remains pitifully rolled-up and wrapped. KimberBree has changed into her nicest violet top for this discussion, but Danielle isn't interested and tries to dismiss her with the confirmation that, yes, she is still a virgin. KimberBree rather densely wonders why Danielle would need a condom, then. Well, it's like this, KimberBree: when you lose your virginity, it's not just because you lost track of it one day while you were walking from Calculus class to Biology. You have to actually leave it somewhere, hopefully on the business end of a nice, sperm-thwarting condom. Danielle says as much, admitting that she wants to have sex one day and doesn't want a Van De Kamplet in her womb. "Danielle, you are president of the Abstinence Club!" KimberBree gasps. I wonder what their fundraisers are like. Bake sales with hormone suppressants in the brownies? Danielle snits in a funny line that she wasn't planning on running for a second term, and says when pressed that her beef stick of choice is affixed to one Miguel the Gardener, whom you might remember from all the times he -- to use the tired metaphor -- tilled Gabrielle's soil. Danielle exposits that Miguel dumped her because she wouldn't have sex, and so she figures the thing to do is change her beliefs completely. KimberBree sympathetically points out that this isn't the best idea, especially because sex doesn't always lead to love. "I understand what it's like to be young, and feel...urges," KimberBree attempts. "But I waited until I got married, as did your father" -- Really? With the way he was talking earlier? Oookay -- "and it was so much better." Danielle points out that Rex ended up cheating on KimberBree, and that they're both miserable now: "The walls between our rooms are paper-thin and I hear more than I should." KimberBree is winded. Danielle gives her a peck on the cheek and sighs that her mother is the last person in the world to be doling out sex advice. KimberBree says nothing. Oh, I would be in such a rage over that. And Kimberly Shaw would put on a blonde wig and run over that young whippersnapper in a stolen Volkswagen.
Gabrielle throws a fit over all the past-due notices she and Carlos are getting from bill collectors. Carlos is calmly eating a sandwich, which is a fine, fine thing to do in a time of crisis. I'm serious. There is a sandwich from my youth -- specifically, from a shop in Houston called Antone's -- that I dream about to this day, and which I cannot get in L.A., and which I yearn first to cradle and then to devour. And that sandwich is for times of stress. And times of joy. And times of any meal at all. Double ham, double provolone, double salami, and Secret Tangy Topping Thing of Heaven's Most Delicious Angel. But, I digress. Carlos wants to eat; Gabrielle wants to rant about their checking account. My, how their roles have reversed, except that you would replace "eat" with "do yoga and boff the gardener." She thinks they're totally screwed, a sensation of which she would certainly have in-depth knowledge, and can't believe that Carlos isn't more alarmed. He believes things will turn around. Just as he's waxing rhapsodic about luck, Gabrielle hears a lawn mower, and her clitoral radar goes, "Ping!"
Ah, but it's not Miguel revving that familiar engine -- it's Justin, who wangled an invite to mow their lawn for free from a clueless Carlos. Seriously, the kid is out there shirtless pushing a mower in the heat FOR FREE, and you don't question his motives? At all? Weird, since Carlos used to be a jealous and suspicious sort. Also, where do they live? Even in California it's not always hot enough around now to be hanging out with no shirt on...ack. Gabrielle is irritated as Carlos soaks in blissful ignorance.
Gay Matt is at his company softball game. He's on the blue team, which is collectively slapping the hand of one Tim Duggan as he races out to bat. Lynette sneaks up and loops an arm around Gay Matt, and she appears to be wearing a shirt that is (a) red in color, more similar to opposing-team orange than her husband's team's blue theme, and (b) that has a similar logo to that of the other team. I'm not sure what's up with that. I only mention it as a rabid sports fan who won't let anyone wear the opposing team's colors while they're watching my team play. Yeah, I'm that girl. Anyhoo, Gay Matt is still really bitter about Tim Duggan, so he starts up some bitchy play-by-play while Duggan rounds the bases off his big hit. "Look at the job-stealing bastard run," Gay Matt intones. "Duggan is really showing some of that glory-hounding ass-kissing hustle that he is so famous for." Lynette giggles, because suddenly there's no one else around to hear the bitterness, and she loves it when hubby gets nasty. Duggan runs for an extra base, "just as he scrambled for extra territory in screwing over unsung utility player [Gay Matt]"; while Lynette suddenly revels in her husband's revision of his own meek history, Tim Duggan collapses into the dirt. Gay Matt still calls him an attention whore, until the CPR starts. And that is generally when the party stops. Unless I am more staid than I thought.
Julie begins her futile crusade to get Susan's permission to attend Zack's party. When Julie argues for dating freedom, Susan clarifies that Zack is the problem, not dating itself: "I just think he's...crazy," she says. "Mom, I've heard people call you crazy," Julie counters. "I'm adorable-crazy," Susan deludes herself. "He's...rampage-crazy." Oh, come on, Susan, live a little! Pirates rampage, and look how hot they are.
A cop knocks on the door and interrupts. He is Detective Copeland, Keeper of Public Safety and Defender of the Secrets of Castle Greyskull. And he's investigating Mrs. Kravitz's murder, which means that he's probably not going to end up being very good at his job. Susan and Julie sit down with El Copeland for a pow-wow about one Mike Delfino. Susan is thrilled to confirm that she and Mike were together on the 7th, which is the night of Mrs. Kravitz's death. See, conveniently, on that night, Mrs. Kravitz just so happened to have a dentist's appointment the morning. Ergo, she was missed. Stupid Mr. MAVO, forgetting to check the datebook for a wider window. Susan proffers the juicy tidbit that Death Night was indeed a big relationship milestone for her and Mike because it was the first time they...and here she trails off, implying that they had sex, but after that episode ended in hot bedroom kissing, the show then made a big deal about how they apparentlydidn'thave sex that night, which is why Susan wanted to plan the lighting and then pranced around in lingerie sprinkling roses on the bed and then lured him over to re-deflower her. Make up your mind, show! And here comes Julie, confirming it by saying she spotted men's boxers in the laundry basket the day, because Mike...what, walked home bare-balling his jeans, all because he couldn't bear to wear dirty boxers all the way back across the street to put them in his own laundry? Come on. This makes me tired. Susan pretends to be aghast that Julie saw those, which is bunk, because she's so indiscreet as a general rule with Julie. Indeed, it is practically out of character for her not to have danced down the stairs the morning with condom wrappers stuck in her hair. Copeland is like, "Are you sure?" And Susan's about to be all, "I know a penis when I feel one," when Julie pipes up with the twee detail that Susan was so happy the day, she cooked heart-shaped pancakes. Poor Julie. In her position, I honestly don't know if I would ever, EVER have considered myself old enough to hear about my mother's sex life.
Justin sneaks up on a satin-robe-clad Gabrielle in her bathroom. And when he lecherously asks her if there's anything else Mr. Solis wants done, Gabrielle does the intelligent thing and admits to Creepy, Horny Youth that she is alone in the house because her thug husband is out with his lawyer. Justin immediately takes this chance to grope at her and coo that if she got to know him better, she'd find him fun; Gabrielle tries to kick him out. Justin grabs her. "Be nice," he warns. She slaps him, and Justin immediately scolds her for it. "Do you know how easy it would be for me to call my husband and tell him what you tried to do?" she hisses. Justin, no slouch in the blackmail department, sneers that it would be just as easy as him calling Carlos to blow the lid off his wife's infidelity with Miguel. Gabrielle recoils. Justin apologizes. "But you're going to have to be nice to me, at least once," he warns her before leaving. Gabrielle is galled. We fade to black figuring that Gabrielle's vagina must be made of molten gold, or something, the way it's being prized.
Susan apparently got the answer she wanted out of her Magic 8-Ball of Mike -- "Can I still sleep with him now?" "IT IS CERTAIN" -- and so she trots across the street the minute she sees the cop car dump him at home. "Are you okay?" she says sweetly. Mike says he's embarrassed, and that he's probably the talk of the neighborhood, as if he wasn't already simply by dint of being the only single, hot plumber on the block. Susan lies that people totally aren't buzzing about why the single, hot plumber on the block bumped off the older, gossiping busybody, and I guarantee you that somebody's answer has the word "fuck-swing" in it. Susan is radiant with the news that she is providing Mike his alibi: "I told the police we were...together...the night [Mrs. Kravitz] was killed, and that I could never forget that night," she pants. Mike is heartened that Susan doesn't think he did it; Susan responds with an eagerness that would seen to convey that she's not entirely convinced -- "I could never think you killed anyone, even if I wasn't [your alibi]...but I am" -- but she's also a chronic verbal diarrhetic, so who knows. Mike lets us know that, yes, jail was gross, so he wants to go take a shower. He and Susan make plans to connect by phone later.
KimberBree and her canary-yellow cardigan -- they dress her in such nice, vibrant colors -- drop by Miguel's apartment for a chat. "What can I do for you?" Miguel asks politely. KimberBree announces that Danielle is planning to have his Lincoln Log with her cherry on top, and would Miguel please tell her he is allergic to anything from the berry family?
Gay Matt sails through the door of his home at the end of the day and says that Tim Duggan survived his triple-bypass with gusto. I'm surprised neither of them snarks, "God. That's just so like him. Bastard overachiever." Gay Matt's moniker takes on actual meaning now, as he reveals how happy he is: He convinced his boss not to keep Duggan's promotion for him, so Mr. Peterson awarded it to "fit, heart-smart" Gay Matt. Specifically, Gay Matt "walked in and said [Peterson would] be a fool to hold Duggan's promotion." Lynette is shocked that Gay Matt called his boss a fool, but I think she's more shocked that he discovered balls in his trousers. Gay Matt is giddy with his high-risk, high-reward approach. Lynette brushes off the fact that his approach is not the one she'd have taken -- honey, don't call your husband a shrinking violet if you don't actually want him to fix that -- and gives him a congratulatory peck. "Honey...I've got the whole West Coast!" Gay Matt rejoices. Okay. Where is that in relation to them? WHERE IS WISTERIA LANE? The Land of Perpetual Summer? Help! Lynette is stopped cold. She thought it was an in-house promotion, but apparently, it's actually setting up new offices from Seattle down to L.A. "I told you that," Gay Matt says. Not that we saw, pal. Damn these reality shows and their selective editing! Lynette is now repelled at the news that Gay Matt's big coup involves big travel, and she backs away from him. She complains that he's barely there half the time as it is, and now with Big Gay Matt's Big Gay Boat Ride up and down the West Coast, she'll never see him. Gay Matt orders her not to ruin this for him, because he's so thrilled, but Lynette would rather shackle him to the area than let him spread his wings for a while in the hope that another promotion might come that kept him home again. She has four kids. She ought to want him to rake in whatever cash he can. SO SHE CAN PAY A NANNY if she's so miserable. Lord. Sorry, I have latent Lynette frustration.
Lynette is pissed that Gay Matt didn't consult her about his new job. "You told me to step up!" Gay Matt protests. Lynette is mad that he didn't step up on her terms, though, and while I do think it's dicey that he didn't tell her it was a heavy traveling gig -- whether he meant to omit it or not -- I also think she kind of needs to be happy for him. Because in the long run, if she's not working, then I would imagine his success would be pretty vital to, oh, I don't know, the college funds of her triple terrors Psychology, Physics, and Poly-Sci, not to mention wee little Philosophy. Think big, Lynette. If you want to work again and help save for all that, you should talk about it NOW, please. Gay Matt washes his hands of her by saying he's going to go wash the rest of himself in the shower. "Wait!" Lynette calls out. "I know what this means to you..." she begins, but before the inevitable "but" comes, Gay Matt interrupts, "I'm forty-one years old. If I don't make VP now, it's never gonna happen. This is my career. It's important to me." Lynette points out that her career didn't exactly mean peanuts, but that she made compromises -- specifically, four babies. Gay Matt just looks at her. "I'm going to take the job," he says with a trace of resentment and condescension in his voice, as if he both can't believe she'd compare them and can't fathom why she isn't doing jumping jacks on the linoleum.
KimberBree perches delicately on Miguel's couch as he confesses, rather guiltily, that he lied to Danielle -- he wasn't dumping her because of the sex, but rather, because he wasn't terribly interested in her, and sex seemed like an easy scapegoat when you consider that she's pretty much on the Abstinence Club poster, doing that Abstinence Gesture that many of us were taught during the same health class presentation in which we were also shown how to roll a condom over a banana. Miguel awkwardly admits it was all because he was seeing someone else. "Oh!" KimberBree exclaims. "Are you going steady?" Hee. That's so the type of thing my mother would ask. Miguel shifts in his seat. "Not exactly...this other lady -- girl -- she sort of dumped me," he explains. KimberBree leaves that one untouched as Miguel promises to talk to Danielle and let her down gently. "Actually, I'd prefer you didn't," KimberBree says. The Wacky Music Of It's Not What You Think plays as KimberBree tells Miguel she wants him to dump Danielle hard -- be harsh, be brutal, and be her indirect campaign manager for her second term as the Abstinence Club president.
Mike arrives at a diner to meet with Noah, who is loading pie pieces two-by-two into the ark that is his dying belly, on the logic that health doesn't matter when you're already dying. To that I say: bravo, Noah, and the chocolate cake looks better than the lemon pie. "Who's the woman they think you killed?" Noah asks. Mike shrugs her off as a local busybody. He figured it was a random thing, but Noah can't imagine it's a coincidence that Mike's garage is where the jewelry ended up. Mike is frustrated about the progress or lack thereof in The Deirdre Affair: It's Been Too Long Since Any Of Us Cared, but Noah is certain that there are trails that will lead to her: "Whoever set you up must know that." Really? Okay, whatever. Noah then tells Mike that, in effect, he will buy Mike's way out of his current legal trouble. Aw, Mike has a sugar daddy.
Gabrielle arrives at Casa Lothario to confront Miguel about his lecherous roommate...but only Justin is home, and he visibly panics. "You can't talk to Miguel," he stammers. "I can and I will, you worthless piece of crap," she sneers, backing him up against the wall. Justin apologizes and gets emotional when he swears he didn't want to blackmail Gabrielle. "I really needed to sleep with you," he pleads. "Because...I think I might be gay." And he thought the Cooch of the Covenant would be his salvation.
Pap, Pep, and Pip run screaming into Gay Matt's office and leap all over him. Lynette arrives a moment later, pushing Pup in her pram and excusing their visit by telling him the Pistons wanted to see him while they were out eating burgers, because they knew he wouldn't be home that night. Gay Matt shows off his office with a view, and then scampers into the room to give the boys chair rides. Lynette watches lovingly. The Boss's Wife enters, because I guess she just hangs around a lot, and glows about how she's the one who convinced her husband to yank the promotion from under Tim Duggan's recuperating nose and give it to Gay Matt. "[Gay Matt] is such a workhorse, and he wanted it so badly," The Boss's Wife gushes. Look, Lynette! Support! Were this woman a bra, she'd have underwire and extra push-up padding.
Mary Alice sees fit to resume telling this gentle story, chiming in with her heavenly voice-over, "Lynette realized it was in her best interest to lie to the boss's wife." In scene, Lynette acts thrilled about the promotion. MAVO: "Provided she wasn't too convincing." Lynette: "Of course, I mean, I will miss him being gone all the time," she begins manipulatively, allowing herself to stare wistfully at the happy-family tableau before her of the three sons of a bitch crawling joyfully all over their father. "He'll be bringing in more money, but he's going to miss birthdays, baseball games, first steps..." Lynette continues, even more manipulatively. The Boss's Wife listens sympathetically. Lynette slathers it on thickly with a closing argument that consists of a resigned shrug, a falsely bright acknowledgement that such is the trade-off, and a convincing "I hope one day [Gay Matt] doesn't look back and regret being gone so much." Then she adopts a sly expression, which The Boss's Wife can't see but we can, so thank you, Lynette, for being so very unrealistically user-friendly. Also, Lynette, you are so selfish. Don't air your laundry in front of his co-workers. That's so appalling. She knows she can't win with Gay Matt, so she's going to make his colleagues pity him? Classy. Assy.
The human equivalent of Glamour magazine is giving Justin the audio equivalent of a helpful quiz, like, "Gay or Straight: How Much Yearning Is All In Your Head?" Justin tells Gabrielle that he has a buddy with whom he messes around, but, you know, getting a beefstick enema doesn't make you gay or anything. Except, oh, curses, he's actually starting to care about the guy attached to the penis. Justin assumed that sleeping with Gabrielle would settle the matter: she's hot enough to turn any bi-curious boy straight, married enough to keep her mouth shut about the tryst, and far enough away from school that if he nailed her, no one would whisper in the halls that they heard he needed popsicle sticks to prop it up, and that he ended up spending the whole time spooning and crying softly. Solid logic, that. "We've been messing around for a while, and this whole time I kept telling myself that it didn't mean anything, you know?" he says ruefully. "I guess I was just kidding myself." Gabrielle is thoughtful. No, really. Then she barfs up today's thesis: "We're all in denial about something." She tells him that he's brave for confronting the truth about his sexuality. Justin promises that he never would have busted her to Carlos. As a thank-you, Gabrielle marches up and plants one on him. "Feel anything?" she asks. Justin bites his lip. "Not really," he admits. Of course not. Her manicured claws were digging so hard into his cheek, they sliced his nerves and rendered him numb. Gabrielle thoughtfully christens him Gay As The Day Is Long, and trots out, satisfied.
Detective Copeland returns to Susan's house, wanting to take her down to the station for questioning. She tries to bail, since she and Julie planned to watch a movie that night, but Julie takes a quick glance at Zack's burgeoning pool party across the street and sunnily informs Susan that she needs to study, anyway, so Susan should totally go ahead and get this done. Susan bites, and Copeland reels her in to the station while Julie shoots a secretive smile at the balloons adorning Zack's driveway.
Susan sits in a stark holding room, with a grim-looking Harrison Ford wannabe observing her through one of those two-way mirrors. (Apparently this guy used to be on The X-Files, according to Jessica. That's some synergy.) Copeland is in the room questioning Susan. She awkwardly confirms that Mike came over on the night in question at about 10 PM. "Do you know of any tension between Mike and [Mrs. Kravitz]?" he asks. Susan doesn't. Copeland then brings up Mike's sudden gunshot wound, and she spits back the story -- which clearly now sounds absurd to her ears -- that Mike cleaned his gun and dropped it, and the floor reached up and wrapped itself around the trigger, pulled it, and discharged a bullet into the sweet six-pack that is his stomach. But Mike couldn't make a citizen's arrest because you can't cuff a floor. "I've never seen [a gun] discharge when it hits the ground," Copeland says plainly. Then he lays on her that an intruder broke into a house three blocks away and got shot in the stomach -- the day before Mike's alleged accident. Susan is rocked by this, and Teri Hatcher is doing a nice job looking like someone just gutted her. She makes me want to give her a hug. Copeland then takes this down Personal Street by asking if she's in love with Mike. "People do stupid things when they're in love," Copeland says. "I should know. I've been married four times." So, what, he's calling her stupid now? That's mean. Except: GUN. MONEY. HIDDEN. Maybe Susan is kind of stupid. ["'Maybe'? And for that matter, 'kind of'?" -- Wing Chun] Copeland tries to get Susan to admit that she's lying for Mike, but she swears she isn't, and then digs her own grave: "Mike wouldn't kill anyone, I'm sure of that." Copeland picks up a shovel and dumps dirt on her, by way of handing her a file that details Mike's criminal record. He was convicted in 1987 and did five and a half years' prison time for drug trafficking and manslaughter. Susan loses her breath. "Want a coffee?" Copeland asks cheerfully. Oh, now, that crosses the line, Copeland. Don't ruin caffeine for Susan, you cold, rotten-to-the-core joy-killing rat bastard.
Faux Harrison Ford -- and really, he is very faux; I'm not sure what I was smoking before -- and Copeland nastily agree that Susan isn't covering for Mike; rather, she's just a sucker. Hmm. Has Mike been receiving and telling?
Julie and Danielle arrive at Zack's, the latter with a pinched "I just stepped in a big pile of geek" expression on her face. But she brightens, as much as one who looks perennially bored and stoned can brighten, when she sees Miguel sitting on the couch mentally rehearsing his "It's not the sex, it's you" speech. Danielle scampers over to him, kisses him on the cheek, and suggestively says she has a surprise for him. Miguel uncomfortably leaves with her so that they can talk.
Zack is delighted to see Julie. She, in turn, is surprised to see Andrew. "He brought friends. They're acting like jerks. Alert the media," Zack cracks. Then why invite them? I've sort of been there, but if they're miserable people who make you want to eat your own glasses, is it really worth it? Zack puts his arm around Julie and they wander outside. Moments later, Danielle bolts outside screaming, "Don't touch me," as she shakes off Miguel. Sounds like he did the job well. And speedily. Meanwhile, Andrew and his friends throw a deckchair into the pool, while someone is stretched out on it. Hilarity! Although also, not hugely removed from something that might happen on Dynasty, except in that case it would involve evening gowns, fur turbans, and a catfight. Zack, despite having brought the mayhem upon himself, seems perturbed by it; Andrew sits down and condescends, "Relax, it's a party, and you're the main party animal, right? Am I right?" Zack stares at him. "Yes," he says skeptically. "Then act like it! Give me a howl!" Andrew guffaws. Then, Andrew howls as a demonstration. Thank you, Teen Wolf. I knew no guys in high school who howled. Zack lets out a half-hearted "Woooo," and everyone laughs at him. Andrew pats him and then leaves, and the moment is sufficiently humiliating that even I, the viewer, want to go home and play some slow Matchbox 20 while I scribble tearfully in my diary. "Are you okay?" Julie quietly asks Zack. "What do I care," snorts Zack. "He's nothing. I could take care of him if I wanted to." With a hearty helping of Chicken Soup For The Teenage Dirtbag Soul, no doubt. "I know where my mom kept her gun," Zack explains darkly. Then he unholsters the Finger Guns of Rageaholic Revenge, points them at Justin and Andrew, and pulls his thumb-trigger. Julie is offended: "That's not funny, Zack." ["Plus, leave Justin out of it! He's cute!" -- Wing Chun] He blinks. "Yeah, if you think about it, yeah, it kind of is," Zack deadpans. Oooh. He just went from rootably misunderstood and emotionally messed up, with the added stress of a weird father and a dead mother, to downright creepy. Disgusted, Julie storms out...
...and comes across a sobbing Danielle, who is so paralyzed by sexual grief that she cannot walk herself a handful of houses down the street to her own safe haven. I would like to say I've been there, but, alas, it is a bit ridiculous. She would have been standing outside the party weeping for at least ten minutes, and unless she expects Miguel to realize the error of his ways, she really ought to just left-right-left her way down the road so that she can cry in private. Zack chases after Julie, who is walking Danielle home, and asks hopefully if she's coming back. "I don't think so," she says. Zack stuffs his hands in his pockets and, over the dulcet, distant tones of Andrew's elegant howling, power-walks in the other direction. Then he starts to run. Straight toward his gym-class wedgie.
Lynette hops into bed to a zoned Gay Matt. It seems she went to a PTA meeting; mercifully, we are spared the details. Gay Matt tries to be casual about his admission that his boss called him in and canceled the promotion. He's holding it for Tim Duggan after all. "Ohhh," Lynette says, looking guiltier than O.J. wearing a shirt that reads, "Of course I fucking did it, you assrags! SNAPS!" Gay Matt immediately says he's fine, which means he is not. Then he lies that he didn't want to work all those long hours, anyway, and gee, remember how he hates flying, and what it does to his back? "All that extra stress, and I would've ended up like Tim Duggan ten years from now," Gay Matt decides. Lynette continues to have the good sense not to look or act triumphant in any way. "Look, you're going to make VP one of these days," she tries to coo, which only has the unsupportive effect of making it sound like she didn't think he deserved it outright in the first place. "It's okay," Gay Matt says dully. "Honest. I am really glad it worked out this way." Then he actually gulps. And then smiles through the most gritted teeth I've seen since I gave my mother orange lipstick for Christmas when I was eight and she saw my proud smile and was like, "It's...just...perfect, honey!" I love my mother so much. Lynette stares off into the middle distance, presumably searching for an image of herself that doesn't make her want to slap her own selfish face.
Susan gets out of her car and is immediately accosted by Mike. She jumps. He asks how it went. "Just peachy," she spits. "And...humiliating, and shocking." Mike tries to calm her, but she hits him with her purse, which I love. "How could you?" she chokes. "God, Susan...do you trust me?" Mike asks. Hey, Mike? You only get to pull that one so many times, pal. "Of course I do," Susan says, tears snaking out her eyes. "I'm such an idiot, and you're such a liar. And apparently a killer, and a drug dealer. That's just quite a personal ad you've got going there." She loses her breath at the end of this rant and is barely keeping it together -- she's really only clinging to a shred of composure, and I so feel for her. "I came to Wisteria Lane..." Mike begins. But she interrupts him before he can say anything revealing, because that's how TV works. Damn this cruel, beautiful genre. "Stop, Mike, stop!" she yelps, pushing him away twice with both hands. "If you keep talking, you're going to work your way into my heart," she sniffles. "And I just don't want you anywhere near my heart. Ever." Her voice breaks as she takes refuge inside her house, while Mike looks totally crushed.
Safely inside, Susan lets out a muffled sob, and then pathetically calls out, "Julie? Mommy needs a hug." There's no answer. Susan realizes with a shiver that Julie is probably out with a kid whose temper has a touchier hair-trigger than Mike's handgun. She storms across the street to Mary Alice's house. No one's really inside, or outside, actually. But from her spot on the patio we pan down to a corner of the swimming pool, where two heads are locked together in that calculated way where you can tell the actors want to look like they're passionately kissing, but they're actually only mouthifying each others' cheeks. "Julie Alexandra Mayer!" screams Susan. Her initials are JAM? That's kinda bitchin'. The two guilty tongue bandits duck underwater. Susan goes off her head about how ridiculous this is, and how they can't stay under there forever, and then she trips over some discarded gold boxer shorts. She should have realized then and there that it at least wasn't Zack under there, because he's clearly not a gold boxers kind of guy. He's all shooting stars and race cars. Or Ninja Turtles.
On cue, Justin's head pops up from under the water. He gasps for air and looks mortified. Susan is confused, until Andrew also pops up from the deep. Woohoo! Action! Susan's jaw completely drops. "I'm not...I'm not gay," Andrew attempts lamely, as Susan trips and bumbles her way out of there in a series of embarrassing pratfalls. Even Andrew and Justin, the budding young couple, stares at her like, "Oh my God, lady, you're in your forties, get it together."
Back to Casa They Should Watch Those Really Embarrassing Ads Where Gary Coleman Talks About How He Went Broke And Found Debt Relief. Gabrielle is trying to tell Carlos that they should sell the mansion, since they can't afford to do anything but stand inside it. Carlos insists that his lawyer will get the Justice Department to unfreeze his assets, but Gabrielle points out that those assets will promptly line the lawyer's pockets. And he has no clients, and she spent all their savings on keeping up that manicure during times of crisis. "It's our house," he says, pathetically. Gabrielle sympathizes, but knows they have to face up to reality. Carlos walks out onto the front porch and stares morosely across the street. "I never thought I'd be poor at this stage of my life," he murmurs. Gabrielle reaches into her vault of Platitudes: How To Say Plenty But Solve Nothing, and pulls out, "I've been broke a lot of times in my life. But I've never been poor. Because poor is just a state of mind." Tell that to Bank of America. She elicits a smile from Carlos, though, and he finally grudgingly admits that perhaps it wouldn't be fatal to move into an apartment. "Who knows? Might even be fun," Gabrielle says. They make out and promise to buy an even bigger house once he's figured out another way to get rich illegally.
Cut to the diner again. Noah is telling a story to somebody about a dog he bought his wife that turned out to have a blood disease, which became expensive to medicate. His dining companion points out that at least the dog made Noah's wife happy. Thank you, dining companion, for giving Noah his segue. "Let's talk about what's going to make you happy," Noah intones, and we see that his companion is Super-Duper Faux Harrison Ford, who smiles greedily as Noah shovels pie into his self-satisfied maw.
Pie was apparently all it took to get Mary Alice interested in this story again. She resumes her gleeful narration: "Yes, each new day in suburbia brings with it a new set of lies. The worst are the ones we tell ourselves before we fall asleep...telling ourselves we're happy..." Bree lies awake, sneaking a peek at her Submissive. "...Or that he's happy..." Lynette stares at Gay Matt's snoozing body. "...That we can change..." Justin, also in bed, is vexed at his frothing hormones that only implore him to bone other men. "...Or that he will change his mind." Danielle waahs to herself that, after all her practice with bananas, she won't actually get to roll a condom onto actual man meat. "We persuade ourselves we can live with our sins..." Guess what? Mike's awake! In bed! He rolls over so that we are sure to get our gratuitous nip shot before fading over to Susan: "Or that we can live without him." Susan is crying. You'll be okay, Susan. You've only known him for a few months. Mary Alice wraps up the story in a nice, neat bow. "Yes, each night before we fall asleep, we lie to ourselves, in the desperate, desperate hope that come morning it will all be true," she says, and you can just hear the twinkling, smug smile on her lips as the words drip like syrup from her tongue.
The End.