The Ladies Who Lunch

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 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.