Cut to Susan struggling her way through a thicket somewhere alongside Route 7, metal-detector in hand. MAVO: "Yes, Susan Mayer believed that the punishment should suit the crime." Susan complains that she thinks there might be snakes out there in the woods. Karl -- who's perched on the hood of the car and picking his teeth with a toothpick all relaxed -- yells up to her that they're staying there until Susan finds that ring. MAVO: "But for that matter, so did Karl." And roll those two-second credits!
And now, here we have an Italian man in bowtie, singing tragic, tragic opera. MAVO tells us that this is the "tradition at Leonardo's Bar and Grill": waiters start to sing "ridiculously depressing arias" an hour before closing. Bree, wearing a stellar red satin sheath dress, sits at a table, alone, drinking wine and sniffling. Bree's waiter comes over and hands her a napkin, and she gratefully takes it and dabs her eyes. The waiter tactfully turns to leave, but Bree calls him back: "Tony? Do you have to rush off? I thought maybe we could just chat for a minute." Bree launches in: Rex was murdered by their pharmacist. Tony, clearly at a loss as to how to respond to this particular tidbit, stutters, "Wow. Uh...I hope you changed pharmacists." Bree: "I didn't have to. He committed suicide." Ha! In summary like that, this show sounds so fantastically ridiculous. Bree waves her hand dismissively at, I guess, all the unpleasant memories, and she does it in that particular overly loose style of someone well sauced. Tony offers to call her a cab, and Bree resists mildly, but eventually she gives in when it occurs to her that a cab ride home later will enable her to order another bottle of pinot grigio now.
Bree's cab pulls up at her house, and Bree, wearing a huge and crazy fur wrap that makes her seem even more drunk, somehow, stumbles out and verrrry unsteadily makes her way up her front lawn. Halfway to her door, she opens up her purse and tries to dig out her keys, but then everything goes a-tumbling and she kneels down...
The morning, Mrs. McCluskey happens by and notices Bree sprawled face-down on her front lawn. Oh my. Mrs. McCluskey leans down and tries to wake her up, but Bree only lets out a little snore. Mrs. McCluskey leans back in disgust -- Bree, it seems, is a little whiff-y -- and then she goes up to the door and rings the bell. Andrew comes to the door, still wearing his little sleeping boxers and tee. He takes in the sight of his mother and just chuckles. Mrs. McCluskey: "You don't seem terribly shocked." Andrew: "Oh, it's just that Mom...drinks, and sometimes she sleeps it off in the weirdest places." And just think, Bree was worried about what the neighbors might think about Andrew kissing a boy on the front stoop. Turns out her front lawn had oceans more embarrassment in store for her. Mrs. McC offers to help, but Andrew shoos her away, saying he knows "how to take care of her." And indeed he does! One blast of the sprinklers, and Bree is up and at 'em!