After five weeks of rest and relaxation, I almost forgot what it was like to write an MBTV recap. Then I remembered: it's one hour of intense television watching and furious note scribbling followed by three hours of agonizing over whether to use the word "shit" or not.
Ahhh...it's good to be home.
Ed opens with Mike and Ed waltzing down the streets of Stuckeyville. Ed asks Mike if he's ever eaten a peanut butter and bacon sandwich. Mike fights to keep his stomach down and tells Ed that his stab at creative cuisine is "disgusting." Ed says it's not as bad as it sounds and that the oil from the peanut butter mixes with the fat from the bacon, creating a taste sensation that Mike won't soon forget. Mike's not sold on the sandwich. Ed reminds Mike that if it weren't for him, Mike never would have tried the delectable combination of Sweet Tarts and Cheese Whiz. Mike agrees. Ed stops and looks across the street at a bus stop brimming with local Stuckeyvillians who are too lazy to walk around the quaint little village. Ed decides that these people deserve to see Mike Burton do the Snake Dance. Mike says, "No way," but Ed mentions the magic words, "Ten Bucks." Mike, taking a cue from Pavlov's dog, runs across the street, prepares himself, and then does a snake dance that looks more like he ate some bad sushi than an actual dance. He gyrates around in the street with his hands clasped above his head for the semi-amusement of the bus-stop patrons. Meanwhile, Ed enjoys the show from afar.
You know...it's a wonder that either one of these two morons have been able to sustain a successful career in this town. Let's face it, it's a small town and by now, damned near everyone has seen one or the other of these two guys act like an absolute mental case in public because of these "ten-dollar bets." I dunno about you, but I doubt seriously that I would use a doctor who got in my face at a bus stop and started doing a bizarre belly dance. Try that shit in my town, Mikey, and you're liable to get a cap popped conveniently in yo' milky white ass.
The opening credits roll, followed by commercials. You know, color me out of the loop, but you'll sooner find me filing my nails with a razor blade than standing in line to buy tickets for the film version of Josie and the Pussycats.
Back to the show. We're smack dab in the middle of Carol's class. Carol is reading some wack-assed poetry from Robert Frost aloud. I almost nod off from boredom, but she wraps it up fairly quickly and then asks the class what she just read meant. Had I been in the class, I would have raised my hands and said, "It meant our parents' tax dollars have been wasted on your salary, Missy." However, I reside in the quaint little village of Real Life while Carol's the Ice Queen of Stuckeyville. Hence, our paths rarely cross. Nobody wants to decipher Frost's madcap ramblings, so Carol asks her star pupil Clark to dissect the insanity. Clark, played by Martin Starr, the tall, skinny geek from Freaks and Geeks, lifts his head slowly and tells Carol he doesn't know what Frost meant.
A fat jock to him tells everyone to mark the date and time -- Ms. Vessey finally stumped the brainiac. Clark speaks up and says that Frost was talking about the Sleep of Death, which is apparently right on the money. I feel foolish because I always thought the Sleep of Death was a pro-wrestling hold. Clark turns to the fat kid and says, "I'm sure you knew that, genius." Fat kid gets a little ticked and says, "Did you just call me 'genius'?" Nerd extraordinaire Warren Cheswick interjects with, "Yeah...but it was sarcasm. Y'see...he called you a genius, but you're not." Then Warren rolls off a hearty laugh at the fat jock's expense. Did I miss something while I was gone, or did Warren overdose on testicular fortitude, because the boy has suddenly got some massive balls when dealing with jocks. Warren gets reprimanded for picking on the dumb jock, and Carol gives Clark a look that practically says, "If you were ten years older and not my student, I'd be banging you like Lars Ulrich on a snare drum." Suddenly, this whole scene reminds me of a really bad Made For TV Movie with Helen Hunt as Carol Vessey, the teacher who seduced her students.
Thankfully, we move to another scene. Ed is at his desk in his office when Shirley walks in. She has something she wants to talk about. Ed invites her in and she closes the door. She sits down, quickly jumps back up like there was a jellyfish in her seat, and waits for Ed to ask her to sit down. Ed asks her to sit down. Shirley has come to a crossroads in her life where she would like to start doing something different. She needs a change. Ed's perplexed, which is common of most people who take the time to make sense out of Shirley. Shirley comes right out and says what's on her mind: she wants to be Ed's legal assistant. She has qualifications: she can make coffee and write things down. Ed tells her there's more to being a legal assistant than that. You have to be organized. Shirley says she's organized as she moves Ed's coffee cup slightly and brings up her acute separation of the bendy straws from the regular straws at the snack counter as proof of these amazing organizational skills. Ed didn't even know they had bendy straws. Phil bursts into the room and mentions that Ed's door was closed. Ed confirms Phil's statement and says that he's having a private conversation with Shirley. Phil takes this to mean that it's a secret staff meeting and says that he didn't get the memo on the meeting. Ed ignores Phil and tells Shirley that she can be his assistant for one week. If, at the end of the week, he decides that Shirley did a good job, she can keep the job permanently.
Why do I get the feeling that Shirley's in over her head? Why do I have the mental image of Lucille Ball and Vivian Vance working on an assembly line with Lucy shoving chocolates into her mouth because the line's moving too fast? I'm tellin' ya...this set-up has all the makings for some classic comedic tour de force farce courtesy of Shirley. Phil tells Ed that he's "swimming with sharks." Phil reeks of jealousy. Or...that could be my feet. It's probably my feet.