In previouslies, Mary Alice's calm, complacent, and not-at-all-suicidal VO reminds us that people sometimes keep secrets. As a little old lady steals a paper from KimberBree's lawn, MAVO simpers that scandals of various degrees can be heard in neighborhoods. MAVO says that the paper-stealing is the kind of scandal that announces itself with a shout. Cue KimberBree's shouting. "Some with a whisper," MAVO continues, as GayMatt signs off on a cable work order. "Throw me a twenty and I'll hook you up with free porn," the Cable Guy hisses. GayMatt looks furtively over his shoulder and wonders. Yeah, right, like GayMatt is ever home long enough to take full advantage of Buff Boyz. "And some. With a bang," MAVO says, as kids TP a house and an old coot -- who looks strangely out of place on Wisteria Lane with his Raggedy Andy plaid bathrobe -- comes running onto his porch and fires a shotgun in the air. Huh. You know, I'd sort of expected KimberBree to be the one chasing Oldy McPaperStealer off her property with a butt full of buckshot.
In her den of siniquity, Maisy Gibbons follows her new john past a framed "World's Greatest Mom" scrawl as MAVO brings it all home: "And once in a great while, there comes along a scandal so deliciously sordid that its roar drowns out all other noise." The john hands over his money and wonders how much Maisy's husband knows of her freelance job. Maisy drops double entendres and asks how the john wants to get started. "With these," the john says, holding up a pair of handcuffs. Maisy purrs that that kind of horseplay will cost him extra. The john flashes a badge and tells her she's under arrest for solicitation. It takes awhile before Maisy fully realizes what's going on. So long, in fact, that when Sgt. John drags her outside, she's kicking and screaming across her lawn in her black lace-edged fuchsia slip and gartered black stockings. At one point, Maisy and her unfettered dinners try to make a run for it, squealing all the while, and face-plants into her own lawn. It's quite embarrassing. Do you think maybe she just should have gone along with the arrest, and maybe then they would have let her put some normal clothes on? I think so. More squeals and protests bring gawking neighbors and that snoopy mailman. The cops haul Maisy bodily across the lawn -- one cop holding her kicking, but shapely, legs -- in a way that reminds me of what it took to put my little sister to bed when she was about three. Once we got her upstairs like that, she tried to kick us in the face with her little white boots. And when I say "us," I mean "me." And when I say "tried," I mean "actually did." She also threw tubes of toothpaste at my head. She was a devil child and I only got paid a dollar an hour to watch her. I should've sold her. One pigtailed neighbor takes note of Maisy's black underwear and flips open her cell phone to activate the gossip tree.
I really love the credits.
"It is often said that good news travels fast, but as every housewife knows, bad news travels faster," MAVO enlightens us. Yes, thank you, MAVO, I don't think it's just housewives who know that. Maisy is finally carted off in a squad car, and her crestfallen face takes in the pigtailed neighbor already yapping away on her phone. As Pigtails relates the story to her friend, that friend tells another friend, and she tells her friend, and so on and so on and so on, until the screen is completely divided up into a bunch of gossiping boxes.
We transition scenes to a school crossing guard on her phone saying she would have killed to see Maisy in handcuffs. What cracks me up is that the crossing guard is just casually walking in front of Lynette's car with her crossing-guard stop sign resting on her shoulder. Totally leaving that kid that isn't Pustule or Pinworm and then quite possibly the baby in the carseat behind, Lynette gets out of her car and runs to see what all the fuss is about. In front of Our Lady of Perpetual Wealth, the principal is telling flapping mothers to calm down, and that they are just taking precautions. Lynette gets the poop from some mothers that there's been an outbreak of head lice in the school, just as the principal hands out flyers explaining what to do in case of a licerrist attack in their home. The flyers also detail the "delousing" procedure, which the mothers "eeeewww" at. Oh, please, you can't be a real mother if you find the term "delousing" gross. Stanky diapers with nuggety remnants of the kid's meal are far grosser than "delousing." Get a grip. The principal refuses to reveal which crested and blazered kid is responsible for the outbreak, just as Pustule and Pinworm scamper into view. As the other mothers continue to insist on being given a licegoat, Lynette sees Pustule scratch his head and her eyes widen. T minus ten to Lynette's freakout.
This is where I have to say that just because Lynette's kid scratched his head doesn't mean he started it. I mean, in an outbreak -- and I've been through a few in my time -- it's highly likely that most kids will get infested. That doesn't mean they started it. The fact that Lynette automatically suspects her kids are the licely suspects just shows that she thinks of her kids exactly the same way the other mothers think of her kids, and how can she condemn the other mothers for thinking that when she HERSELF THINKS IT?! By the way, my head is really starting to itch as I watch this. The other mothers also check out Itchy and Scratchy and exchange knowing looks. See above rant. God, these women are ridiculous. Back in the day, my mother found the whole lice thing fascinating. She would bend our heads under a bright light and "examine us." With one of those really fine-toothed lice combs, she'd pick through our scalps, hair strand by hair strand and totally ignore our painful, neck-cricked sighs. And I had hair down to my butt so I sighed a lot. When she found an egg, she'd stick it on a slide and look at it under one of her microscopes and then draw it. I think she even has pencil sketches tucked away somewhere with our names and dates attached to them. My mom is weird. All this time, the principal has been droning on that they can't name the kid responsible because that kid would be ostracized and ridiculed and left in a corner to scratch on his own. Lynette distractedly agrees as she gathers up Itchy and Scratchy, hisses at them to stop scratching, and drags them off.
Brokedown Palace. Carlos strolls into the bathroom to start his ablutions. He sees ugly brown water welling up in the exquisite marble sink and strolls over to the other exquisite marble sink. It's also filling up with ugly brown (and probably quite whiffy) water. Sigh. I hope to have two sinks in the same bathroom some day. But not with the ugly brown (and probably quite whiffy) water. After seeing the same ooze in the tub, Carlos tries to shout at Gabby about the brown water, but she can't hear him over the shower. "Sewage?" Carlos says to himself just as Gabby starts to scream. Oh, ew. "Yeah, that's sewage," Carlos sighs as Gabby's shower screams turn into wails.
Mike stands in a deep hole in front of Casa Poo and estimates that, at cost, he can fix their problem for about six to seven thousand dollars. Carlos and Gabby exchange a look and say they will get back to him. "If money's an issue --" Mike starts to say. Gabby waves that off, saying they just have to prioritize "some little things [they] need to do around the house." "And you don't consider sewage backing up in the house a priority?" Mike chuckles. Carlos smiles silently. "It's definitely on the short list," Gabby says firmly. Carlos is kind of a wimp about these things, isn't he? I mean, he's just standing there, all house-arrested, letting Gabby waffle through their excuses. Mike is surprised they called him, since no one else seems to want to have anything to do with him, being that he's suspected of murder. However, he just couches it as "since my arrest" and doesn't mention the manslaughter conviction. Or the drug thing. Or the breaking and entering and getting shot but still going out to dinner just so he could bleed all over the floor of a fancy restaurant and make Susan cry. Carlos smiles again, hikes up his jeans, and shows off his Martha Stewart bracelet. "Innocent until proven guilty, my man," Carlos says. They head back to the house, leaving Mike to write up his estimate. "Hope he's more innocent than you are," Gabby grouses at Carlos.
Sad little Susan listens to her messages. There's one from Lynette, telling her not to be sad about Mike because Lynette's got dirt on Maisy Gibbons, and another from Mike, begging her to call him. Susan deletes Mike mid-message. Julie walks in and comfortingly offers to stay home from her weekend with her father. Susan swears she's okay and will get over Mike and the "borderline fling" they had. Julie counters that anyone could see how much Susan loved Mike. Really -- anyone? I guess the dog strangulation, and the burning Edie's house down, and the pleather gave it away. Especially the pleather. Susan shoos her concerned daughter out the door. Julie pauses on the walk, turns around, and deliberately goes back to give her mom a big hug, promising that Susan will find someone else. Someone great. Awwww! What a sweet kid -- if I ever have one, I want it to be one of those. Susan tears up, but quickly shoos her daughter off. She closes the door and goes to sob somewhere.
Bushwood Country Club. KimberBree -- with her titian hair trussed in two pigtails and a white cashmere sweater tied over a pale blue pique shirt with a white collar -- solicitously inquires after Rex's golf game with his doctor. Rex didn't enjoy it, because he's feeling sluggish from all the poison Curious George is giving him. The doc said that Rex's post-op medicine should be working, so now he's gotta go in for a checkup to see what's going on. I hope they think to do a toxicology thingy on him as well. Unless Curious George is just giving him placebos because that way, Rex might just die of another heart attack because he wasn't taking his medicine and not because he was actually being given poison. That would be sort of smart. KimberBree notes one of the club gadflies flitting from table to table, rubbing her legs and dispensing her pollinated gossip. Rex says he could do with a laugh, so KimberBree excitedly calls Tish the gadfly over for some of that sweet, sweet honey. Tish spills the beans about Maisy and adds new info: "Word is, she had a little black book with all her clients' names!" Tish giggles. Rex and KimberBree look freaked as Tish buzzes off to another ear. "Well, Rex," KimberBree says tightly, taking a sip of her Chardonnay, "You got your funny story -- why aren't you laughing?" Rex breathes painfully and eyes his wife.
Lynette and GayMatt delouse Itchy and Scratchy with lice combs. The phone rings and GayMatt flicks something in a glass of water on the table and rushes off to answer it, eager to shirk his fatherly duty once again. Itchy wants to see one of the "bugs," so Lynette yanks one out of Scratchy's head and shows it to both kids before sticking it in the glass of water. Huh. I don't think my mother ever used a glass of water when she deloused us. She was probably worried one of us would drink it. GayMatt hangs up the phone and announces that Tammy called to cancel Topher's birthday bash because Topher has the measles. Scratchy whines over the news as Lynette "'cha, right"s and goes into a diatribe about how Topher isn't sick at all, it's just that their lice-infested kids are considered too dirty to be allowed at the party. It astounds me that Lynette has these conversations right in front of her kids. I mean, letting your kids know that they're being shunned by the neighborhood isn't exactly a morale builder at their age. Granted, Itchy and Scratchy probably don't get it or, if they do, don't care, but it still strikes me as pretty irresponsible of Lynette to slag off on another mother AND talk about her Untouchables being so untouchable. GayMatt wonders why his wife is such conspiracy theorist about every little thing. Because GayMatt, the ENTIRE world is against your beleaguered wife, didn't you know that? It was in your marriage vows. Lynette rants on, "If rumors fly, these boys can kiss campouts and pool parties goodbye." Again, I don't get what the big thing is about the lice. When the outbreaks occurred at my grade school, it was as minor as the flu bug going around. I mean, I didn't go to St. Snootnatius or anything, and maybe the inner city looks at these sorts of things differently, but I think I'm better for it since I will never freak out if my kid brings home lice. There are far worse things they can bring home. Like scabies. Or guns. Itchy suddenly catches wind of the lack of forthcoming pool parties and campouts and gasps, "Uh-oh!" "Yeah, not so cool now, huh?" Lynette snaps before drowning another louse. Shut up, Lynette.
Edie and her ruched-up nipples gives Paul back all his important house-for-sale documents and tells him not to sweat the change of heart. Edie can't find his house key and figures she must have left it at home. "I'll bring it by tonight," she says, going to her silver convertible But...doesn't she live just across or down the street? I'm not even sure why she bothered to drive her car to Paul's in the first place. Unless she was coming from the office and stopped there before going home. I need to see a neighborhood layout because I swear they've all been able to simply look out their windows and see what others are doing in their yards and stuff. Paul says he'll be away on business that night, so she can just drop it by later. "Or," Edie purrs, flexing her hips, "I can just keep it." Paul is completely flummoxed. "It's a joke, Paul. I know your wife's dead and all, but it's been six months -- lighten up!" Heh.
Felicia the Fabulous trills over to Paul and Edie with something she found amongst Martha's things. It's Edie's necklace. Edie is thrilled and croons, "Oh, you know -- I lent this to Martha three months ago and she told me it went down the drain." Beat. "Awww, I miss how we used to steal things from each other." Hee. I do love Edie when she's not washing cars. Paul tries to get info out of Felicia about Mike as Martha's murder suspect. Felicia stares at him and then laughs that Mike didn't do it. "But they found her jewelry in his garage," Paul reminds us. "But his fingerprints weren't on any of it," Felicia says, looking interestedly at Paul. "Well, that just means he wore gloves," Paul insists as Edie uses her hips to put her necklace on. "So, he's smart enough to wear gloves," Felicia says, drawing closer to Paul, "but he leaves her blood-spattered jewelry around for anyone to find? Please! Is that what you'd do if you killed someone?" Edie looks back at them. Paul hedges and says he just wouldn't trust Mike. Felicia continues to stare at him, her grin widening, before cocking her head and turning to Edie to compliment her on the necklace. She says she knows a jewelry store in Salt Lake City that specializes in antique jewelry. Paul looks wary. "Have you ever been to Salt Lake City?" Felicia asks Edie. "No, I try to steer clear of Utah. It's a little too...conservative for me," Edie responds. I'd respond by saying, "Edie, San Francisco is a little too conservative for you" except that I keep seeing nude bicyclists every time I take the bus home so I'm not sure anymore. Felicia flips her head around to Paul and fixes him with her gimlet eye, asking, "Have you ever been to Salt Lake City, Paul?" Paul answers in the negative. Felicia croons that it's too bad because it's lovely. She used to live there. When she was a nurse. "You should definitely go some time," she says, boring her eyes into Paul's before giggling and strutting away. I'd warn Felicia not to piss Paul off, but I have a feeling she'd slash his throat with a Cuisinart blade before he could hit her with a blender.
As Gabby brushes her teeth, MAVO smilingly comments that the diminutive former model had to get her personal hygiene where she could. Gabby gives herself a washcloth bath with a hand towel before putting her shirt on, flipping her hair, and joining the girls for poker at Lynette's kitchen table. Edie -- who has capitalized on her desire to be included -- announces that she was just about to dish on Maisy. Lynette pays lip service to the fact that they should be ashamed for reveling in Maisy's misery (KimberBree nods vigorously) before she adds, "That being said: Edie, please continue." Edie announces that Maisy might cut a deal with the D.A. to release the names of her high-profile johns. Lynette doesn't get who would pay Maisy for sex. "Obviously someone who's not getting it at home," Gabby says, looking intently at her cards, just as though she wasn't getting it away from home for a good long time. As the ladies ooh and ahh some more about what the release of Maisy's Little Black Book will bring, KimberBree looks more and more distraught. But calmly distraught, as only KimberBree can be. She barely even wrinkles her alabaster brow. When her attention is called back to the game, Lynette tells KimberBree, "The stakes were raised." KimberBree considers the pot of anvil and finally says, "I fold." No, no, no! This isn't right! KimberBree NEVER folds!
Edie helps Lynette to clean up after the game and admits that her luck with the cards that day was all due to bluffing. Lynette's impressed. "That's the only nice thing I could say about my first husband -- he taught me how to bluff," Edie explains. But not in poker. In bed. She had to fake a lot of orgasms. For some reason, even though they were just lapping up the details of Maisy's sex life, this admission leaves Lynette speechless. Sheesh -- what a prude! Do you mean to tell me that in all these klatsches, "faking it" has never been discussed? Please -- yank the other one. Edie catches sight of Lynette's open mouth, realizes that she shocked her, and tells her she doesn't have to respond. "Thank you," Lynette flutters, and then hedges when Edie casually asks where Susan was that day. "Wow, Tom must be great in bed!" Edie burbles. Lynette, the dumb-ass, doesn't seem to know what she's talking about. "Well, obviously, you have no idea how to bluff," Edie points out. Except, wasn't Lynette supposed to be such a killer in the boardroom? What, she did that all without bluffing? Doubtful. Hey, I work in cookbook publishing and, although we're not exactly mergers and acquisitions, we know how and when to bluff. Sometimes an overly greedy author doesn't need to know that one of her recipes really didn't give everyone at the photo shoot the runs. Lynette hedges some more, but Edie guesses that it has to do with Mike. Lynette is silent, until Edie insists she's going to figure it out sometime. "She's devastated about the breakup and hasn't left the house in days," Lynette admits, and tries to take the pretzel bowl away. Edie pushes the pretzel bowl back on the table and demands to know why Lynette didn't tell her that in the first place. "Because it's personal and something she would only want to tell her friends," Lynette explains. Edie loudly crunches on pretzels and insists that she's Susan's friend. Lynette gives her the eye. "Well, I don't hate her!" Edie amends thoughtfully. Lynette tells Edie that if she wants to hang with them, she has to be nice to Susan. Would this be a good time for Edie to mention that, since Susan burned down her house while spying on her sex life, she might not always feel inclined to be nice to Susan? "Okay," Edie says eagerly. And then, hilariously: "How?" Lynette sits down heavily and explains what being a friend means: "They call, they're sympathetic, they ask about the pain the other person is going through and then," Lynette shrugs the obvious, "they listen." "What if, you want to be sympathetic," Edie says carefully, "but you just can't stand listening to people bitch?" Oh, A-MEN! I mean, seriously. "Then it's good to know how to bluff," Lynette responds.
In his creepy house, creepy Paul opens a creepy box of creepy videotapes. He pulls out one labeled "Utah -- Angela's Award Party." There was also a videotape in there labeled "Mary Alice." I wonder why, if you are trying to forget a past life you had, you would label a tape with your past name. Why not label it "Utah -- Mary Alice's Award Party"? Maybe she was Mary Alice every other day of the week and she was Angela on Tuesdays. Creepy Paul plays the tape and watches a bunch of nurses congratulating Mary Alice, who is holding some a plaque that reads "Angel Forrest Employee of the Year." Paul pauses the tape and looks closely at someone standing to his dead wife. It's definitely Felicia, with a definitely unfortunate haircut -- it's all awkward chops and curls. Creepy Paul looks angry. And creepy.
"God, I have to go to the bathroom again," Gabby bitches. She and Carlos are sitting out by their Jacuzzi in their bathing suits, both shaving. Carlos tells her to go pee at KimberBree's. Gabby complains that she's already been there twice that day. Carlos suggests that she go to Susan's place. "I hate Susan's -- she has all these weird scented candles. Her house reeks of apricots!" Gabby whines. Heh, Susan's house would reek of apricots. Not roses, not pine needles, but apricots. I don't know why -- it just make scents. (Sorry.) On the other hand, I could see Susan getting into the whole peach thing because she would go around giggling, "It's because I am a peach." "Hose!" Gabby commands her husband. And it's not a sex thing. Although, given her past, maybe the hose is a sex thing. Carlos sprays off her legs and suggests Lynette's bathroom. Gabby goes off, complaining that he doesn't understand, she doesn't want to anyone's house anymore. She's tired of making up excuses and using italics. Basically, she blames Carlos for their situation, but then Carlos turns right around and blames her for being so materialistic that he had to get indicted because he was making money all to serve her needs and wants. More bitching until Gabby finally ends things by raising a basket of dirty clothes over her head and shrieking, "You know what? I don't have time to fight right now -- I have laundry to do!" She throws the clothes into the Jacuzzi and turns on the jets before stalking off. Now, how is that going to work without soap? Also, aren't Jacuzzis chlorinated? Because those weren't just whites she threw in there. I'm just sayin' -- someone's going to end up with pink socks.
Our Lady of Perpetual Wealth. Lynette visits the school nurse and not-so-subtly tries to find out if her kids are the lousy culprits. The nurse finally admits that Itchy and Scratchy didn't start it. Another kid was "patient zero," and has actually had lice four times. And Lynette should be happy with that knowledge and Just Walk Away. But she doesn't. She HAS to pry because, come on, how else is she going to make another mother feel like crap? In fact, this is how she justifies herself: "Acting like parents won't assign blame is like pretending they don't keep score at Pee-Wee League games. It's human nature." My mother is fast becoming a theme in this recap, but I guess it's only natural, so here I go again. My mother didn't keep track of scores at Pee-Wee League games. I mean, it could have been because I wasn't any good at T-Ball or soccer or softball or basketball. But my sister was pretty good, and my mother didn't keep track of her scores either. My mother didn't even keep track of the one sport I was good at: tennis. She came to my matches, she cheered me on, but she didn't make a point of noting if and when I did better than my friends just so that she could lord it over their parents. I guess my point is, I'm so sick of Lynette making these "insightful" and "honest" speeches and acting like she's Everymother. Because she sure as hell isn't mine. Lynette explains to the nurse that if the moms don't have someone to blame, they'll pick a scapegoat, and she can't let her boys be the scapegoat. The nurse asks her not to put her in such a position. Lynette doesn't back down. She doesn't care about the nurse's situation. She only cares about her situation. She begs. She pleads. She whines that Itchy and Scratchy were uninvited to Topher Measlebag's birthday party. As soon as it registers with the nurse whose party Lynette is ranting about, she tells Lynette to take a seat. Apparently, Topher Measlebag is the one with all the lice.
Prison for Soccer Mom Prostitutes. Maisy simpers into the visiting room, all lowered demure eyes and swinging hips. Then she sits down and faces her visitor. It's KimberBree. With a heavy basket of checked-napkin covered goodies. You can almost see the steam. Maisy drops the simp and swing with a quickness. "Hello, Maisy," KimberBree says sweetly. With her hair and the checked napkins tucked into the basket, KimberBree is very Little Red Riding Hood. "Why Maisy, what high heels you have!" "Why Maisy, what colorful condoms you have!" "Why Maisy, what big dinners you have!" I think Maisy's "The better to" answers would all be the same. (I'll let you figure that one out for yourselves.)
Gabby goes for a jog in the neighborhood. I don't know if I'd want to get myself all sweaty if my only hope for a shower was in a neighbor's sink. Gabby slows down by a construction site and hones in on a Port-a-Potty. Okay, nice idea, but if it's at a construction site, I'm thinking it might be nearing capacity if you know what I mean and I think you do. Gabby hides behind a really nice toolbox until the crew drives off. I know I'm not the regular recapper here, but I'm not entirely convinced that a construction crew would just leave expensive tools on an empty site. Tiny Gabby pushes the used Port-a-Potty off the site and down the street.
At home, Gabrielle dramatically whips a sheet off the temp toilet in front of Carlos. Heh. Several things went through my mind here: One: She's going to have to wash that sheet in the Jacuzzi now. Two: She certainly picked up a thing or two at all those auto shows. Three: Now there's a woman -- she brings home the fried chicken AND the pot to put it in! Carlos embraces her in front of the biffy and tells her that stuff like the Port-a-Potty is why he loves her. Damn straight it is. Gabby may be whiny, but what have you done lately, Carlos? In response, Carlos takes his paper and disappears behind the big blue door. Gabby pats the door and looks pleased with herself.
Prison for Suburban Housewhores. KimberBree earnestly asks Maisy to remove Rex's name from her little black book Now, even if Maisy agreed, which she won't, how exactly would she do that? She's in prison and I assume she doesn't have the little black book on her because she would have traded it for smokes. (I don't watch many prison movies.) And if it was seized by the D.A., it's not likely he's going to hand Maisy the bluelines to proofread for him. (I work in publishing.) "That's a really big favor," Maisy says, crossing her arms, "Those muffins better be really good." Whatever, wench, they're better than your muffins. Or so I've been told. KimberBree adds that she has some money she can float Maisy's way if Maisy will... KimberBree pauses. Maisy finishes for her, "Keep my mouth shut?" Yeah, and for the first time. Maisy suddenly adopts a Southern accent as she says, "Gosh, Ah don' know." KimberBree begs some more, but Maisy is not biting. Well, she's not biting now. KimberBree pleads that they used to be friends. "Where were yew when Harold lost his jahb a year ago? Did you stop bah to see if there wuz ennythang yew culd dew? Didja bring a big bahsket of baked goods when yew knew we culdn't even pay ahr bills?" KimberBree looks a bit ashamed but earnestly insists that she didn't mention it because she thought it would have embarrassed Maisy. Maisy says the embarrassment would have been better than the silence. She's not wrong. KimberBree finally says, "I have fourteen thousand dollars in that account -- it can all be yours." Maisy's not interested. KimberBree stares at her for a moment, and then purses her lips and stands up. Maisy adds, "But you do get credit for one thing -- you came to visit me. Even if it was for an ulterior motive. None of the other girls from the club even bothered. I've been a-bahn-dined!" Maisy accompanies that last word with a bit of sarcastic Southern vapor fluttering. "I guess that's what happens when you become the town whore," Maisy concludes. Well, considering you've been sleeping with their husbands, yes. "Oh, sweetie," KimberBree says with saccharine acidness and I sit up, eager for the smackdown or the wig ripping because I'll take either. "They didn't abandon you because you're a whore. They abandoned you because you weren't all that nice to begin with." KimberBree stamps primly away, pauses, turns around, stamps primly back, and snatches up the basket of muffins. SHE'S BACK! HOT GIRL'S BACK!!
In her sad little hovel, Susan acts sad with a mess of tchotchkes. Edie rings the bell and calls out to her. Susan tells her to go away. Edie walks in anyway. I love Edie. Apparently, Edie has taken Lynette's advice to heart and is trying to be nice to Susan now. She feels bad about Mike, and assures Susan, "But don't worry -- I'm not going to date him." Susan snaps that it doesn't matter now anyway. Edie, perhaps feeling that she's being too nice, adds, "Well, don't get me wrong -- I still have every intention of sleeping him. Some mountains are just meant to be climbed." Susan mutters, "I gotta learn to keep my doors locked." Hee, and that should be the mantra of the entire Lane. When Susan says she doesn't know if she's been sitting there for five minutes or three hours, Edie stands up and orders, "That's it -- get up. Get dressed!" Susan's confused. "It's time to get wasted," Edie explains, her hands on her hips. I love Edie. Susan stares up at her, slack-jawed, half a dinner hanging out of her green chemise. "Happy hour started forty-five minutes ago," Edie elaborates. See, this is the thing: Edie is totally the one I'd want to go out drinking with if I were depressed. Or angry. Or happy. Or if it was Tuesday. I'd want KimberBree around to help me plan a party, my flowerbeds, and my new wine cellar. I'd want Susan for those rare days I feel really girly and want a spa treatment. I'd want Lynette for -- well, I don't think I'd ever want Lynette, actually. In fact, I would also want KimberBree or Edie to have my back if I got into another bar fight. I mean, a bar fight. Using the persuasive argument of girlfriends, short skirts, making out with a random guy in a dark alley, Edie convinces Susan to get off her ass and get out of the house. Susan doesn't know why Edie cares. Edie says, "I don't. But I guess I know what it's like to get your heart stomped on." Susan puts a hand out, and Edie yanks her to her feet, slaps her on the butt, and tells her to do something about her "skanky hair." I love Edie.
At a bar with a big buffet of what looks like corndogs, chicken nuggets, and breadsticks, Billy Ocean's "Caribbean Queen" plays while Edie and Susan lounge at the bar. Edie and her beer and shot try to pick out men for Susan and her glass of wine. It's not really working because Susan hates them all. "Look at them leering at us, all cocky because they know they have the upper hand," Susan says blearily. Edie doesn't know what she's talking about: "We have the upper hand -- without us, they have nothing." Except their hands. And their cocky. Susan wails, "Maybe fifteen years ago. Not anymore. Now we're just lonely and desperate and they know it. And they just sit there ready to pounce. Waiting for us just to take any crumb they're willing to throw our way. I don't want crumbs, I want Mike!" She slumps her head on the bar. Edie calls the bartender over and gestures with her shot glass: "I'm going to be spending the whole night with her, so I'm going to be needing a lot more of these." Susan apologizes and says that she knows in her heart that Mike didn't kill Mrs. Huber. Edie wants to know who did, then. Susan suggests Creepy Paul, which totally confuddles Edie because she hasn't been privy to all the gossip and conspiracy fests of the past fifteen episodes. Susan quickly brings Edie up to speed with what the klatsch knows: dead Dana, killer Zach, and the blackmail. Edie straightens up and wonders, "What the hell kind of street do we live on?" They both drink. Even though it's all for the sake of exposition, there's something so great about seeing all the facts filtered through Edie's eyes and her "holy crap"ping at them. Edie recalls Paul's insistence on Mike's guilt, and also that Paul and Zach are out of town. She suggests breaking into the house and nosing around. "Oh, my god, yes -- we should do that!" Susan gasps, gripping Edie's arm. Edie's a bit taken aback and says she was just kidding. You know you're nuts when Edie's the one taken aback. Susan reminds Edie that Mrs. Huber was Edie's best friend, and that finding her killer is worth breaking and entering.
Bushwood. As Rex drones about his doctor not getting why he's not feeling up to par, KimberBree fields looks of derision from the other diners. When Rex asks what's going on with all the looky-loos, KimberBree guesses that Maisy went public with her little black book. Come on, do you mean to tell me that in that whole country club, Rex is the only one that Maisy was freelancing for? Rex wonders if everyone is laughing at them. "No," KimberBree disabuses him. "I think they are laughing at you. I think they feel sorry for me, which is just as mortifying." Rex, just like every other man on this show, asks his wife what they are going to do. She says they are going to ignore it and walk out after dinner with all the dignity they can muster. Rex can't handle the humiliation, and makes a big show of getting up and starting to leave. "Rex," KimberBree hisses, "if you walk out of this restaurant I will scream." Rex stands his ground. "I will scream about your cruelty," KimberBree continues. "I will scream about your infidelity, and just to make sure it hurts, I will scream about your distasteful sexual habits." I love that when she said "distasteful" she looked right at his sexual habit. "You want to know what true humiliation is, you just take one step," KimberBree bites out. She's really angry. ["Plus I would think that, given Rex's distasteful sexual habits, he would enjoy the humiliation." -- Wing Chun] Rex, cowed, sits down again and picks up his menu. KimberBree throws evil smiles at the staring clubbers. "So," she continues brightly to her husband. "What are you having? The veal looks good." Rex just stares at her. KimberBree smiles tightly back. Seriously, don't fuck with KimberBree -- she'll scaloppine your veal without even breaking a nail. You know, my mother watches this show and she's going to read my recap and she's going to fly from Minnesota to San Francisco just to wash out my mouth.
Using Paul's key, Edie and Susan break into Creepy Paul's house. "So, what are we looking for, exactly? An embroidered pillow that says 'I killed Martha Huber'?" On this show? I wouldn't put it past them. It would be like Wisteria's own Madame Defarge. Susan doesn't know, and tells Edie to look for something "suspicious." What would the definition of "suspicious" be, Susan? A cabinet full of cash? A loaded gun? A shot in the gut that goes septic over the antipasti? Edie uncorks a crystal carafe of brandy and sniffs it. "Mmm, smells expensive!" she says, and chugs a bit. I would so do that. Susan gets sniffly over a family picture and asks if Edie believes in evil. "Of course I do, I'm in real estate," Edie says carelessly. Being a San Franciscan apartment-dweller, I say "A-men" to that. Susan elaborates that Creepy Paul's house is just "so cold and creepy. You couldn't tell when Mary Alice was alive -- she just brought such warmth and light," Susan goes on, sitting down on a hutch and stroking the family picture. See, I'm not getting that about Mary Alice. Smug, self-satisfied, condescending, and suicidal I can see, but warm and light? No, I don't think I'd use those words to describe MAVO. As far as I'm concerned, she's the nastiest and craziest of them all. She just sits up there, all omniscient, and acts amused by the horrors she sees below. I wonder how Susan, Lynette, and Gabrielle would feel if they knew that their friend of "warmth" and "light" was smiling over their travails and travesties. Edie says, and I agree, that all she can tell is that Susan has had too much to drink.
Edie then runs into a table and conveeeeeniently knocks off the "Utah -- Angela's Award Party" tape from the table. Susan grabs it and tells Edie that "Angela" is what Mary Alice used to call herself. Instead of going to either (a) Susan's house or (b) Edie's house and watching it in complete safety and secrecy, Susan insists that they watch it right then and there. Before they can watch anything, a garage door goes up and Edie realizes that Paul is home early. They quickly eject the tape and hide behind the couch. Susan, the idiot, butterfingers the tape so that it falls into the folds of the couch they are hiding behind. Oh girls, hiding behind a couch is never a good thing. Not for Jack and Chrissy, not for babysitters and dogs, and definitely not for these two. Paul walks in, turns on the light, and immediately flops on the couch and picks up a magazine from the coffee table. And I immediately don't buy that. The first thing you do when you walk into your house after being away all day is to pick up a magazine that has probably been on the coffee table for several weeks? Doubtful. Not only does Paul pick up a magazine from the coffee table, he picks up a magazine from the coffee table that was under another magazine on the coffee table. Edie is impatient and quick-thinking, so she jumps to her feet and says hi to Paul, freaking him out. Edie explains that she was just there to return his key. "You're returning my key at 11:30 at night? What the hell is going on here?" Paul asks. Edie agrees that he's right: "We're too old to be playing games." She pushes on his chest and leads him to a corner of the room so that his back is to the couch. Edie adds that she wasn't kidding that afternoon, and that she really would like to keep a key to his place to use when the mood strikes her. Meanwhile, Susan fruitlessly searches in the couch cushion for the tape. Paul smells the expensive booze on Edie's breath and doesn't buy it. Edie throws him against the wall for a liplock, and beckons at Susan to get out. She does, but not after first making a "Yuck" face at Edie and Paul's clinch. Edie continues making out with Paul until she sees Susan's skinny ass crawl across the floor.
Outside, Mike is taking out his trash just in time to see Susan crawl ON HER HANDS AND KNEES down Paul's walk, across the sidewalk, and to the street. Susan? Here's a hint: when you get out of the house, you can then walk upright as our ancestors taught us. After this display, Mike still goes to talk to her. I guess this must be love.
Inside, Edie pulls away from Paul and apologizes. The joke's on her, though, because Paul's into it and Edie's stuck between a door and a hard place.
Mike and Susan argue about whether he's a murderer. Susan argues that he had plenty of opportunities to tell her about his past. The "opportunity" that cracked me up the most is not that he could have told her over jogging or over pizza, but that when they went to a movie and someone got shot, Susan thinks Mike could have said, "Oh, and by the way, I did that once." Susan says that no matter what he says, she will never believe Mike ever again. Mike pulls her in for a kiss to convince her that while his lips might, his tongue doesn't lie. At least, I'm sure that was what he was thinking when he did that. Mike breaks their clinch and says, "At least you can believe that," and walks away. I'm sorry, but if Jesus was betrayed with a kiss, what chance do you think Susan has?
Casa Poo. Carlos and Gabby over who gets the Port-A-Potty.
At KimberBree's, a toilet audibly flushes and Gabby walks out, thanking her hostess: "Seeing your tile has really help me make my decision -- the time we remodel, I'm using limestone." KimberBree sets aside her teacup and her knitting and asks if everything is okay. Gabby bluffs it until KimberBree points out all the excuses to use everyone's bathrooms, and the laundry in the Jacuzzi. Gabby can't really explain that. KimberBree kindly asks if Gabrielle and Carlos are having money troubles. Gabrielle looks down. KimberBree assures her that it's okay if they are. Gabby doesn't buy it. KimberBree insists that she and Gabrielle are good friends, and wonders why Gabby feels it necessary to hide her troubles from KimberBree. Gabby: "I don't know -- probably for the same reason you didn't tell me Rex was one of Maisy's clients." KimberBree is shocked and says that Gabrielle's situation is obviously different. "Why? Because it happened to you?" Gabrielle wonders, adding, "This is how I see it: good friends support each other after they have been humiliated; great friends pretend nothing happened in the first place." I don't know why those two differentiations have to be mutually exclusive. KimberBree thinks for a moment, and then stands up and says, "Well, then -- good luck on your remodel." "And please tell Rex I said hello," Gabrielle responds as she rises to her feet and leaves.
Oh, the lice storyline. I had forgotten about that. What can I say? I was in a hopeful mood. Lynette drags her kids to the party they were uninvited to, but which is obviously still on, and tells Topher's mom that she knows where the lice originated. She even follows Topher's mom to the bouncy palace in order to force her to acknowledge and make it known that Itchy and Scratchy aren't the Originally Infested ones.
KimberBree visits Gabrielle on her porch and explains that she and Rex have decided they no longer want to be members of Bushwood. She hands over an envelope, saying, "I'd rather see the money go to someone I care about." Gabrielle opens the envelope and her jaw drops. She says she can't accept it. "This is the way I see it: good friends offer to help in a crisis; great friends don't take no for an answer." Gabrielle is gobsmacked and promises that she and Carlos will pay the Van de Kamps back. "Take your time," KimberBree encourages. And the reason why this show isn't on the Hallmark Channel is...?
MAVO is back to say that everyone loves a scandal, no matter how big or small. "After all," MAVO asks, "what could be more entertaining than watching the downfall of the high and mighty?" Here we see a snoopy neighbor watching Carlos use his Port-A-Potty. Didn't KimberBree just give them money to fix all that? "What could be more amusing than the public exposure of hypocritical sinners?" Here we see Rex helping KimberBree into their car. They look like they're dressed for church. A denim-clad couple walking their dog (I'm sure they're liberals, because liberals don't go to church and instead choose to walk their dogs on the day of the Lord) stops to stare pointedly at Rex. As the camera shows Maisy standing like a wallflower in the rec room of her Prison for Housewhores, MAVO says that everyone enjoys a scandal, and that if we aren't enjoying the latest one (now we're with Creepy Paul as he sits on his creepy couch with paper), "well, the one is always around the corner." Paul finds the videotape in the cushions, stares hard around him, and swigs from his highball. Drinking on a Sunday? He's definitely a murderer. Wait, I'm not sure what that says about me?