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Previously, the Tim and Tom Connection somehow decided that they'd won over R.I.C.O. and S.U.A.V.E. for good. I don't know why they decided this; it all seemed quite noncommittal to me. Joe the Vet vented his spleen again by forcing Matt "Velvet" Dusk to sing onstage with yet another Karaoke Indicator. Monique was not Li'l Tommy's "woman," but was in fact "Monique." Because this is the only story arc that ever existed on this show, besides Tom's gradual slide into Bovine Spongiform Encephalitis, we also see that Tommy set up a meeting with Tweedle Tim and then did not get his meeting with Tim, so you know this whole thing is going to be very important. The announcer tips his hand here and reveals a certain bias on the part of the show by referring to Monique as his "bossy boss." Then they tell us what is about to happen on the show that is actually on. It's not pretty. Then that stupid song which I have had in my head all week. It's just not a good song. 2 Shots 4-Eva! Sometimes I get it stuck in my head and it mashes up against "Sexx Laws" and the whole mess goes faster and faster like "Pop Goes the Weasel" until I start thinking of hurting myself like Johnny Cash. Just one of the many recapper perks.
Tweedle Tom stops by Tim's house at 9:22 AM -- because they don't live together, apparently, and they don't live at the Golden Nugget, and I don't know which surprises me more -- and Bally the dog is barking there. We are stupidly told that Tim's house is in "Las Vegas, NV." Thanks, Burnett. Tom is physically contradicting himself because he's talking very animatedly and yelling fakely that it's time to go to work, but his eyes are at the usual half-mast, and it's a pretty safe bet that he is high right now. Which is not smart because of what's about to happen. Tim's wearing a black bathrobe and eating his breakfast with a carafe of milk on the table and it's stupid, and he tells Tom that he drives so slow that he might as well just leave immediately. They decide to bet on it, and end up agreeing on $5000 for whoever can get to the Nugget first. God. See, this is what I was afraid of a month ago, when I heard they were "dot-com millionaires." Who besides nine-year-old boys with millions of dollars would find this fun? Before, they were the normal kind of douchebags with the "Dice Town" and that stuff, but now they're...those guys. The ones that don't know what to spend their money on so they buy, like, pool tables and boats and stuff. Gas grills. And since this is a breed apart from the usual guys that don't know what to spend their money on, they make stupid $5000 bets and buy like, I don't know, hover-cars, or pool tables that, like, light up, or something. Things that fly around the room. Weird fetishes. Roombas. I've not personally had experience with jackasses on this scale before, and I hope I never do, so I'm just guessing.
"$5000 is a lot of money for a drive to work," Tom notices. "It's chicken feed, man," says Tim, grossing me right out with his black bathrobe and greased-up Mob-connected hair. Tom lays down the law: they cannot speed. Why, would that be cheating? Wow, this should be awesome: "I have won $5000 driving in a kindly and defensive manner." Tim smarms that Tom hasn't won a bet against Tim since 1986. So dumb. In the parking garage, Tom lays down more rules: they'll both head down to Howard Hughes Parkway, and the race will begin there. Tim blows this off and says that the race will begin here and now, in this parking lot. I jerk awake but no, it's still happening. They get in their stupid penis cars and go driving really fast out of the parking garage. This is more than I ever wanted to know about Tim: the condo place where he lives has like a miniature Parthenon in front of it. How classy. How JC1K. The generic Hackers music starts, and Tom begins narrating the action for us, irritatingly. Oh, Casino. Can't you give us a freaking car chase without messing it up? Nope.