The episode opens with a shot of Warren sitting on the front steps of a house. He's fidgeting and twiddling his thumbs and staring at the road in anticipation, possibly waiting for a life to arrive. Instead, a beige Mercury Cougar pulls into the driveway and an equally beige Carol Vessey gets out. Warren rockets to his feet, runs his fingers through oily hair and smoothes his windbreaker. "Welcome home!" he squeaks, his voice the victim of Puberty's cruel five-act drama. "Did you have a sweet vaco?" he shouts, grabbing Carol's bags and clumsily shouldering them. Warren is so excited and nervous that he's tripping all over himself. Carol laughs tolerantly but doesn't do anything to discourage him, because it's fun to emotionally abuse people who worship you. Eagerly, Warren explains that he's taken care of the mail and the plants, and "the newspapers are stacked so neatly it just might blow your mind." Then he pauses, as if he can't believe he said "blow" to Carol Vessey, but also wants to point out the many ways in which she could blow his mind -- or, blow his "mind," nudge nudge, wink wink. Carol catches sight of a sad little towel lying on the porch, and Warren very seriously explains that he couldn't find a red carpet to use instead. Carol's mind is blown. She shakes her head and pays Warren for the mind-job.
Warren stumbles inside the house with Carol's bags and watches her read mail. "If you need me to stay over tonight and help you reorient yourself to your surroundings," Warren begins, all fidgety and pseudo-suave, "then I could run out and grab a bottle of Merlot, whip up some sizzling fajitas" Except he pronounces the "j" in "fajitas." Warren is smooth as a nail omelet. Carol suddenly asks why it's so freezing in her house, and Warren helpfully explains that he shut off the heat for savings. Carol freaks and bolts to the basement, saying, "You can't shut off the heat in winter! The pipes may freeze." She finishes the sentence at the foot of the basement stairs, staring at a relentlessly leaking pipe and a fast-forming swanky new swimming pool. "Hmm, I wonder if that's what happened here," Warren muses. Wow. He puts the "hopeless" in "Warren Cheswick."
You'd think the credits would pop up here, but you'd be wrong.
Ed and Mike are eating breakfast and reading the morning paper. Ed loves world news. Ed loves nothing more than a heated debate about the state of affairs in Bosnia, the political leaders of Yugoslavia, and the kind of questions that shake us to the very core of our values. To wit: "Who would win in a fight -- a strong, tall man, or an invisible fat man?" Ed asks. I'm sure Plato already covered that. Or maybe it was Gene Roddenberry. Mike immediately picks the strong and tall man. Then Ed kinks the shit out of that tidy scenario. "What if the invisible man has a whip?" he says mischievously. Mike: "Is it an invisible whip?" Nancy was walked in and is eavesdropping. "This is the worst McLaughlin Group ever," she laughs. I have to disagree. I live for the day McLaughlin's three chins wiggle with glee when he yells, "WRONG! Invisible and fat beats strong and tall like rock beats scissors." Ed notices in the paper that a Mr. Schaeffer is being sued for feeding dimes into parking meters. Well, he's clearly reading the Wall Street Journal, then. Mike and Ed exposit that Mr. Schaeffer is the nice old codger from the Stuckeyville soda shop, a man who always used to give Mike an extra pickle. Nancy gazes fondly at her husband, unperturbed that he used to take the pickle and like it. Nancy suggests that Ed offer legal help to Mr. Schaeffer, and Mike giggles that Ed's an ambulance chaser.
Doorbell rings. Nancy ushers Carol inside. Carol greets Mike and Ed then begs Mike for some help with her busted pipe. No one thinks to suggest that Mr. Schaeffer could plug the leak with one of his infamous pickles. Ed is offended. "You've got plumbing problems, ma'am? Why go for the rest when you can have the best?" he asks, grinning. In my notes, I somehow typed "plumbing" as "pimping," a word that gives this exchange a much fresher meaning. But if that were the case, America wouldn't be falling in love with Ed -- America would just ask Ed to talk dirty, wear a mangled tutu, and never kiss on the mouth. Carol is shocked that Ed can fix pipes, and he argues his masculinity. "I like beer and I drink it. I like sports and I play them. I own a bowling alley," he says, as though he's just answered the question, "What is man?" Carol looks at him like he just answered the question, "What is celibacy?" Carol grins, though, and says playfully, "Ed, would you like to come over to my house and take a look at my pipes?" Ed does my work for me: "You know, I've had dreams about you saying that to me." Carol notes that it's a cheap joke, which Ed thinks can often be the very best kind. He would reverse his position if he read my cheap jokes in the last few paragraphs.
Finally, Dave Grohl is crooning at me. He'll be coming home year, folks.
Stuckey Bowl. Ed is leaving, asking Phil to watch the place because he has to manhandle Carol's piping. "Bosco, you can sack my potatoes," Phil proclaims emphatically. What follows is the typical Ed / Phil exchange -- Ed looks startled and skeptical, then bemused, and Phil is confidently insane. In this particular subplot, Phil wants a catchphrase like Fonzie had, or Flo of "Kiss my grits!" fame. He sees merchandise sales skyrocketing as all of Stuckeyville embraces his trendy sayings, like, "What be happenin', my brotha?" or, "Shave my poodle!" Folks, we're on a collision course with wackiness. Phil seems to have settled on "Shave my poodle," and with a self-satisfied smile, he watches Ed's fleeing figure. Phil looks like Christian Slater circa Heathers or Untamed Heart, that horrible Marisa Tomei movie. Hey, there's a phrase no one ever uses -- "that Marisa Tomei movie."
Basement of Wet Love. Ed and Carol, clad in rubber boots, wade across the flooded floor. Man, look at the obscure double-entendre. It's postcard-pretty. Ed points to the leak and says, "There's your leak, ma'am." He explains the "ma'am" is part of his plumber / housewife fantasy. Ed looks perplexed, staring at the spraying water until Carol challenges his know-how. "Wimp," she whispers, then says, "Hey, did you hear something?" I did. It was the sound of one hand clapping -- the writer's hand, clapped to his forehead in shame. Ed is a bit of a gambling man, though, and he bets Carol that if he can't fix this leak, he'll run through Stuckeyville's streets (so, about five blocks, right?) in his underwear yelling, "Ed Stevens is a loser." But if he does plug Carol's leak, she has to stand on a soapbox in the center of town and proclaim Edward J. Stevens to be the world's finest plumber. Carol gives him twenty-four hours with no help, and they shake hands. "Mighty chilly out there this time of year," she intones. Ed plugs the leak with his finger and grins innocently.
The Milky Way. Actually, it's just a close-up of Nancy's right breast. I think we're supposed to see the laptop and the bottle-feeding baby, but her breast is front and center in the shot. Mike comes in and giggles that she's able to multitask like that. Nancy looks stressed and says she's going for a promotion at work, but is having second thoughts. Mike encourages her to do it, promising that they can make anything work out. She fumbles the bottle and formula sprays all over her laptop. Mike makes a lame breastfeeding joke.
On Grove Street, a giant condom with reservoir tip is pumping dimes into parking meters. Oh, it's just Mr. Schaeffer, clad in an unfortunate hat. When Ed approaches, Mr. Schaeffer eloquently summarizes his problem with the law: "I need another summons like I need a rusty bear-trap on my ass," he growls. Ed nods sympathetically. Rust is a problem indeed. Ed says he likes Mr. Schaeffer's coleslaw, and wants to be his lawyer free of charge. Behold, the power of cabbage and mayonnaise. Mr. Schaeffer exposits that he once got a $30 parking ticket that ruined his day. "It's a dime to me, but it's $30 to the ticketed person," he says of his meter-feeding habit. A male meter maid walks up and barks at Schaeffer's lovely little do-gooder worldview. Schaeffer tells the maid to talk to his lawyer and pats a self-satisfied Ed on the shoulder. "You know, there's nothing wrong with being a meter maid," Ed grins at the disgruntled man. "How very P.C. of you," deadpans the maid, walking away. Ed stares off into the distance, smiling to himself, proud that he's Stuckeyville's biggest sucker for a moderately worthy cause.
At Life Stream Greeting Cards, where Nancy toils, the nanny telephones with a snafu. Life Stream. That sounds like a maxi pad. Life Stream Greeting Cards with Wings. Each pad comes with a bad PMS joke and a bunny printed on it. An older executive called Margaret trots in and interrupts, announcing that the big presentation has been pushed to that Friday. Nancy frets that there's no copy to go with the designs, but distractedly promises to give her writers the new deadline and waves Margaret away. Back to the nanny. Nancy listens, looking puzzled. "Your husband sprained hisCan a nose technically be sprained?" Sure! Shoving rolled-up dollar bills up your nostril ten times a day can't be easy on a nose. Frazzled, Nancy promises to come right home and relieve the nanny.