Fade up on a lingering, stationary, and wholly unexplained shot of a woodsy open road, a road lacking the necessary yellow warning sign reading "Runaway Plot Ramp" and containing a drawing of a wayward black arrow, which zigzags madly but ultimately points directly toward the Lynch/Frost production offices somewhere deep within ABC Studios. We cut over to The Palmer House Of Rapidly Declining Population, where a pan across the Memorial Mantel displays that a framed photograph of Leland has been added to Laura's ballyhooed prom queen picture. Man. Tough gig when the only way to get a picture of yourself shown in your own house is to actually go and die. Sarah had better steer clear of sharp knives and fatty foods for a while, or that house is going to need a second fireplace. She should probably also be wary of the Glamour Shots place down at Twin Peaks Mall, lest there be a photo representation of her lying around somewhere with which to tempt the fates.
Panning, panning, panning. As our tour de mantel draws to a slowly-panned conclusion, the green opening-credits font fades up on the screen and we learn that it is now "Three Days Later." Ow. That popping sound you just heard was the time-space continuum exploding, seeing as we've never jumped ahead more than, say, four seconds from the end of the episode, have we? Over on the couch sit Doc Hayward and Sarah "And White Horses Couldn't Drag Me Away" Palmer, each dressed in their gender's best representation of dour, funereal black. The good doctor pulls Sarah's sleeve back and holds up a hypodermic needle, telling her, "Sarah, I'd like you to take this." But Sarah, usually so attuned to the latest advances in better living through chemistry, pulls the sleeve back down and tells Hayward, "I don't want it. I want to be there. Every part of me needs to be there, for both of them." Cooper, who I didn't even know was there, sits in a chair looking entirely spliced into the scene, Jar Jar-style, with CGI technology barely in the early stages of research and development. Sarah continues with the speechy pathos: "Today I bury my husband to my only child. Her grave is still so new. There's only a little bit of grass on it." Cut back to Stock Footage Cooper, who has still not appeared in a shot with the other two actors in this scene and who responds via satellite, "There are things dark and heinous in this world, things too horrible to tell our children. Your husband fell victim to one of these long ago, when he was innocent and trusting. Leland did not do these things, not the Leland that you knew." Sarah stares nervously into space -- where is that voice coming from? -- and takes Hayward's hand as she confirms that Leland was not "that man I saw…long, dirty, disgusting hair." Hank killed her? Cooper responds that this man "is gone forever," and a close-up on Sarah's face accentuates her chronic Afro-Mullet hair insanity (which, I just noticed, is a pretty good indicator of Sarah's comparative levels of crazy at any given time…mood hair, as it were) as she lapses back into a Sally Field-directed Lifetime movie with her musing, "So is everything I loved." Teary sadness. Orchestral swell. Demons of the Soul, starring Judith Light as Sarah Palmer and Tom Berenger as Dale Cooper, will be back in a moment. And then stay tuned for Ellen.
Cooper continues his re-shoots from afar: "I think it might help to tell you what happened just before Leland died. It's hard to realize here" -- a non-Cooper hand reaches into the frame and touches Sarah's forehead -- "and here" -- a non-Cooper hand reaches into the frame and touches her heart area -- "what has transpired. Your husband went so far as to drug you to keep his actions secret." Cop-out! Way to rationalize all the mystery out of Lynch's equine imagery, people. I'm just sayin', put the script for that episode in this director's hands (or maybe not…I'm sorry, did she, like, die or something?) and see how well those five minutes of skipping phonograph work out. More: "Before he died, Leland confronted the horror of what he had done to Laura, and agonized over the pain he had caused you. Leland died at peace." Cooper continues on that Dead BOB Walking saw Laura in his final moments, and that she welcomed him and forgave him. This intense visual impact of Cooper's entire speech cannot be adequately quantified in mere words, but I'll do my best to render it for you nice folks at home: it's a still close-up on Sarah's face. Because Cooper isn't really there, is why. Cut to Cooper, who stands up and tells Sarah, "It's time. Mrs. Palmer, I would be honored to drive you." That's gonna be a pretty tough task, considering he's not even…oh, never mind. Sarah smoothes her hair (well, it's just an expression) and looks up at Cooper's stand-in. She notices her earring is missing, and begins to cry: "Leland always found the other earring." Sarah looks up past un-Cooper and into the spinning ceiling fan at the top of the staircase, for no apparent reason. Cooper never appeared in the frame with either of the other actors in this scene. Seriously, what was he so busy with when they first shot this scene anyway, the extensive press junket for Don't Tell Her it's Me? Cancel. This. Show. Before I do something drastic and MY picture ends up on that mantel. Kidding. Kinda.
It's later at the Palmer house, where the post-funeral blitz warrants another lengthy pan of a table with trays of food on it. Really. Eventually, a new Badalamenti (hey, there's a phrase I've never needed before) strings dirge gives way to Sassy Shuffle, as we cut back to reveal a living room full of the usual Twin Peaks personnel. Into the room walks Nadine "Blind As A Brat" Hurley, decked out in a doily-happy navy ensemble and black patent leather shoes. At an excruciating pace, she looks at the shoes, bends down and cleans them with her hands, stares at her reflection in said shoes, and leans back against a column in the middle of the room. That sequence unfolded over the course of almost a full minute. It is, in fact, quite riveting. Rosie called. She wants her riveter back.
Over at the buffet, Hank falls over the rest of the funeral attendees and grunts something about "Waldorf Salad." He steps away from the table with two plates, and interrupts Norma and Ed to inform Norma of his all-around altruistic greatness now that his laundry list of ambiguous nemeses have been killed, driven out of town, or ambiguously forgotten: "I got that for Sarah." Norma couldn't be more pleased, except that she probably could. Hank carries the tray to Sarah, who is sitting on the couch with Audrey (wha?) and engaged in conversation with, of all people, Mrs. Hayward, who has clearly wheeled herself out of her parents' basement in West Hollywood where she's been staying between acting jobs, called to duty as "the woman who warbles annoyingly" now that Maddy is no longer able to fill that position, on account of her overall deadness. Not like that stopped her before, but whatever. Meanwhile, somewhere at a temp assignment on the outskirts of Pasadena, Sylvia Horne looks up from a big stack of filing and reminds herself not to give up hope. Hank hands Sarah the plate, looks satisfied with himself, and walks away. Sarah hands the plate off to Audrey, who laughs and asks, "Do they invite people to these things or do they just show up?" Mrs. Hayward warbles something about funerals being a time when people naturally reach out. "I remember when Mother died, there must have been a hundred people." Even the gaffers and a dozing key grip shoot each other that "Yeah, because I so asked for your life story" look across the Cooper-free set, and the camera makes a mad dash for anything else in the room.
Donna "The Cellulite Closet" Hayward steps out of a Kabuki improv rehearsal and onto the Twin Peaks set without taking her make-up off this week, as The Most Sallow Woman In Show Business walks into the Palmer house. She spots Big Ed, due for a screen-time resurgence any time now, and launches in without the formality of a hello: "Seems like the whole town has fallen apart. Somehow James thinks it's his fault. First Laura, then Maddy. Maybe he blames me, I don't know. Two people in love couldn't have caused all this, could they?" Well, if the two lovebirds are the town's unborn bad-luck charm and his lady fair, who's gone so long without putting a thing in her mouth besides a cigarette or drivelous dialogue such as the aforementioned and who is so quickly taking on the contours of a fourteen year-old gymnast and who hasn't menstruated in over a year in her perpetual attempt to truly understand her dour boyfriend's psychological needs by regressing to the point where they actually become the same age, then yes. Considering that pattern of destructive behavior, I'd venture a guess that the deaths of three people might as well be tacked on as riders. But I digress. Like I need to tell you nice people that. Big Ed promises that "everything's gonna get better," having no inkling of what a terrible, terrible lie that really is. up is Major Briggs, who enters the house and welcomes Dr. Jacoby back to town. Truman and a cardboard cutout of Cooper sad aside.
Oh, lord. Back over at the buffet, two older-than-old men shovel food onto plates, as the shorter, more tuxedoed of these two men bellows like a Boca grandfather who's Early Bird Special arrived after five, "What's the matter? Doesn't she feed you? Meeeeh! Ha! Meeeh! Ha ha ha." The taller man, in the maroon chapeau and unmatching taupe sports jacket, responds that Shorty McAncient is "just jealous," and Shorty replies, "Jealous? Well, I wouldn't spend my time changing diapers." Pretty much the only significant element of that scene is that Donna stands across the buffet table putting food onto a plate, ostensibly for her own consumption. Is that an inside joke with the audience?
Back in the circle of Cooper, Truman, Jacoby, and Briggs, the Major asks Cooper what he's going to do now that everything but the actual series itself seems to be in wrap-up mode. Cooper doesn't know, explaining, "I've stockpiled a few weeks of vacation time. Now might be the time to cash them in." Briggs responds by asking if Cooper would like to join him for "an incredibly pleasant evening of night fishing?" Cooper thinks that would be "aces." Meanwhile, Nadine interrupts Ed and Donna across the room and asks Ed if he can see her underpants in the reflection of her shoes. Yes, folks, that's really what's going on right now.
Back on the couch, Sarah tells Audrey and No Name Hayward that Donna came over once and made popcorn with Laura, and that the two girls "made this very serious promise to be best friends forever. I think it was a kind of bond against…" She then starts to cry again. Audrey, realistically still only about thirty-six hours off of her last heroine fix, looks warmly on like she and Sarah Palmer have been mahjongg partners since their college days. That's some odd-ass blocking, right there.
Oops. Directorial continuity is deemed "so pre-Lynch," as Statler and Waldorf continue their discussion near the food. Donna, who had just been talking to Ed, before which she was at the buffet table, is back behind the buffet table fixing herself a snack, and Ed has returned to his post clear across the room, as if the two of them had never been talking at all. Statler tells Waldorf that the aforementioned "she" of their earlier conversation is "cursed," and Waldorf reacts violently, grabbing the shorter fellow by the collar and pushing him down toward the floor. Statler kicks back as Donna and Ed try to separate the two men, Donna taking the tray out of Waldorf's hands, the contents of which she probably replaces with a big handful of Dexatrim, if just by habit. Statler kicks Waldorf in the shins, and Truman steps in to insure that peace is restored when he reminds them, "Remember where you are and why we're here." They separate, and a new clique forms of Pete, Doc Hayward, and Cooper as Waldorf skulks by. We learn that the two men are brothers, the tuxedoed one the mayor of Twin Peaks whom we haven't encountered since the pilot. We learn that there is a running feud between them, but nobody knows why. And so on, as Pete tells us, "The nest is a little stirred up right now. Dougie's engaged to be married." Hayward tacks on, "For the fifth time." Dougie is not the mayor. That'd be Waldorf, and he owns the town newspaper. Hayward fills in some more blanks: "Dougie wrote an editorial, came out against his brother. And Duane was running unopposed!" Awww. Sing "Proud To Be An American" if you think small-town Northwestern folk are, like, totally quaint and stuff. Cooper smiles warmly and tells Truman, "I'm really gonna miss this place." Well, Coop, as I always say, it's better to have loved and lost then never to have…oh, you say you're staying? Well, that's fine, I guess. I'll have to wash some towels again and it's really been a while since I've had the place to myself, but if you feel you have to, I guess…fine, I'll go pull out the bed. So, you want some pie, or…oh, I see you've already taken some. No, no. Y'all aren't overstaying your welcome at all. Okay. Cough. Pause. Sigh.
The "Twin Peaks High School, exterior" set has been rescued from mothball purgatory and dusted off for use on a show that foretold teenagers' heinous disregard for the secondary school system years before Get Real was a gleam in Fox's eye. Inside of an administrative office of some kind, Ed and Jacoby sit across a desk from an administrative person of some kind, who states in disbelief, "You're asking me to admit a thirty-five year-old woman to the senior class. Ed ups the deadpan ante: "You got me there." Nadine bursts in, carrying her books and wearing a sensible skirt and a red sweater, bouncing off walls and announcing, "Guess what? Cheerleading tryouts today! I just saw a notice on the bulletin board." Ed stands and escorts her back out, all "Why don't you go work on your splits?" She runs out merrily, and he shuts the door behind her. Two, four, six, eight, who do we apprecia…zzzzzzzzzzz.
Great Northern. Cooper folds his boxers (well, that answers that question) in a quick, fastidious, man-they-teach-you-everything-at-the-Bureau kind of way when he is interrupted by a knock on the door. He thinks it's the bellman, but in fact the door opens to reveal Audrey, who salutes adorably and announces herself as "customer relations." She asks when he's leaving, and after Cooper tries to make his time away just sound like a fishing trip and failing valiantly, she smiles, "So that's it? You save my life then break my heart?" He reiterates his policy about not becoming involved with people who are part of cases he is investigating (whatever. Case is closed. Now get with the lovin' before this season completely implodes). And because Cooper's character has until now been so unengaging and non-dynamic to watch without massive quantities of conveniently-appearing and creamy nougaty back story, Audrey takes a measured step toward him and volleys, "Someone must have hurt you once really badly." Cooper corrects her that someone was hurt because of him, and Audrey suddenly goes all Pesci in Lethal Weapon III when she tries to keep it conversational: "What'd, she die or sometin'?" Yes, she died. Or sometin'. Goodbye flowing dialogue, hello never-removed-from-its-hermetically-sealed-plastic Emmy clip: "She was a material witness to a federal crime. We were supposed to protect her twenty-four hours a day, my partner and I. Windom Earl was his name. He taught me everything I know about being a special agent. And when the attempt on her life was finally made, I wasn't ready. Because I loved her. She died in my arms. I was badly injured. And my partner lost his mind. You need to hear any more?" Oh, it's way too late for that question, punk. Audrey tells him that one day she'll be an adult and on her own, and when that day comes, "You'd better watch out." Yeah, watch out that she doesn't find herself in some shadowy, cobwebby corner of the Twin Peaks soundstage and come across her special agent bonin' himself some Lara Thin Boyle during the strangely increasing number of scenes that don't include either of them. I'm sorry, just knowing there was ever anything between them makes me so ill. So very, very ill and sad. Coop, I love. Kyle? Not so much. Not right now.
And then Audrey leaves, but before she does, she adds, "Y'know, there's only one problem with you. You're perfect." Which deserved its own paragraph. Because it's a classic line. And because Audrey got the shaft from Cooper. And not in a good way. If you know what I mean. And I think you do.
A shot of the Great Northern waterfall cuts over to the interior of Chez Johnson (hey, nice establishing shot of the very thing you're not establishing), where Bobby tries on a new suit jacket, gazes at himself in a mirror, and notes, "It's big. But it is bad." Hi, Bobby. Pan up to note that the mirror in question is tucked under Leo's chin, and Shelley leans on the wheelchair behind him, noting that Leo just got that suit before his brush with frontal lobe oopsiness. After conferring with Shelley on which tie he should wear, Bobby plot-develops, "I gotta look good, man. Ben Horne is a man who notices these things, y'know?" Shelley slumps down further on the back of the wheelchair and asks Bobby if he'll take her out somewhere, and Bobby asks what she plans to do about Leo. She indicates that she's suffocating in the house, and he leans in to reassure her, "If I land this job with Ben Horne, we're on easy street. I'll take care of you in ways you never even dreamed of." Has he not heard about the suspicion of murder rap and the three days in jail? I guess not. He leans in further and gives her a brief sampling of the good, good lovin', then pulls back, claiming, "I gotta ramble," which I hereby resolve to incorporate into my daily existence from here until the end of time 'cause Bobby's real cool, like.
Truman walks into his office, carrying a brown paper bag of donuts inside of his hat, and discovers Katherine Martell sitting on his desk. He stares her down for a moment and deadpans, "Forgive my saying so, Katherine. But aren't you dead?" She shrugs her shoulders. "Does Pete know?" She confirms that she and her husband "will be duly reunited." He welcomes her home and tells her he has a few questions. She asks if she is "under suspicion" (for what?), and Harry launches in with the litany of exactly one question that constitutes his third degree: "Where the hell you been the past two weeks?" She brings the room down a bit with the self-serious, "Harry, do you believe in guardian angels?" He tells her that he doesn't know what to believe in anymore, and then sits quietly for the remainder of the scene as the writer of this episode once again proves that she has never actually experienced a conversation with another actual person, seeing as so much of this episode takes the form of huge Shakespearean asides. Here's one now: "I believe an angel saved my life. I was home the night of the fire. A man called, a voice I didn't recognize. He asked me to meet him at the drying shed, there was a vague threat implied. So I went, and I took my gun." And so on, as she recaps the Episode 7 fire and her meeting with Shelley Johnson. Negating her entire character until now and determined to flesh her perfectly bitchy character into three dimensions by giving into that scourge called ACTING, Katherine whispers on, "I have no idea of how I escaped, but I found myself in the woods. I was afraid. I was afraid for the first time in my life. I dragged myself through the night, and as the sky lightened, things began to look familiar. The woods, the path, a rock formation. And I was flooded with memories of my childhood. This is where heaven is!" Sigh. After she drones on for a bit more about the tree-dwelling wood nymphs and The Rock Formations of Subconscious Memory, she gets around to putting down the shooting script of The Tenth Kingdom just long enough to grace us with an actual fact or two about the story we've been suffering through. She figured out that the "heaven" she'd come upon was her old summer house at Pearl Lakes, which she had come upon completely by chance. She entered the house and "opened a can of tuna fish," sitting in a corner with her gun and waiting her pursuer to show up and kill her. Truman has to clear his throat and take an English-language refresher course, so long has it been since he's had the opportunity to open his mouth for any reason other than "lapsing into stuporous drooling," asking Katherine, "What made you come back?" She deadpans, "I ran out of tuna fish." And that is the end of the scene.
Over in another part of the station, Dick "Put In It My Ascot" Tremayne shows up to discover Lucy precariously balanced at the top of a ladder, changing a fluorescent light bulb. He's there, he tells Lucy, "to talk about our bambino," and offers a hilariously (cough) ironic speech about his realization that he is "a terrible, crashing bore" (word) and what he needs in his life is "someone more important than myself to think about, to care for." All the while, Lucy is climbing up and down the ladder, practically falling every which way but off with absolutely no help from him. Har. Har. Har. Hawk walks through this sequence and down a hallway to find Andy eavesdropping on the entire conversation. Dick continues that he has signed up for a Big Brother program to offer him some experience in the parenting field. Andy chooses this moment to pounce, climbing onto the ladder and telling them both that they all need to remain friends during this difficult time. Lucy seems convinced by this display. This subplot, man. It's dead. Wrapped in craptastic.
Cooper knocks on the door to Truman's office (Katherine affixed a propeller to her head and took her leave of the station via a hole in the roof, perhaps?), because he's all packed up and he's gotta ramble. "Major Briggs says there's a frying pan full of steel-head trout out there with my name on them." Oooooh. Aaaaaah. Zzzzzzzz. And so, as his goodbye present, Truman gives Cooper a paper bag containing a fishing hook called a green-butt skunk. Truman also offers him an official Bookhouse Boy patch. Oh, cool! He can sew it onto his soccer jacket. Cooper doesn't know what to say. I do. What time does Major Dad start? Because, though I haven't mentioned it in a while, it's 1990. Or not, considering this episode started three full years ago, now.
Lining up in a row at the front door are Hawk, Andy, and Lucy. Cooper offers Hawk a warm goodbye, and he responds with what I would think was this week's misguided foray into faux-Native spirituality if I hadn't sung a song called "A Parting Blessing" in eighth-grade choir: "May the wind be always at your back." It's Irish. Yee-ha. is Andy, to whom Cooper says, "Your bravery is only exceeded by the size of your heart. A rare combination, indeed." And finally to Lucy, who must invite him to her wedding, no matter who it is she marries. But just as the dulcet resolving tones of the opening credits sequence plays, a suited man walks through the front door, flanked by a Canadian Mountie. It's an FBI agent named "Roger Hardy," who dourly informs Cooper, "Dale, we've got a problem. Effective immediately, without pay, I regret to inform you of your suspension from the FBI."
Cut to another ambiguous office, where Cooper sits accused and Hardy, Mountie, and Truman stand above him. Cooper learns that he is being charged with "misfeasance," meaning "the improper and unlawful execution of an act that is, in itself, proper and lawful." That being Cooper's crossing the Canadian border to rescue Audrey Horne. But Hardy also believes that there are other irregularities in Cooper's "motives and methods" during his investigation of Laura Palmer's murder, and claims that he's waiting for further "evidence to arrive." Like, say, a broken bottle, a map of Tibet, and a copy of Freud's guide to dream analysis? Unconventional motives and methods? How are they going to build any kind of case around that?
Bobby paces in front of Ben's closed office door deep inside the Great Northern, and a woman of no discernable repute tells him that Mr. Horne wasn't expecting him, and maybe he could come back in, say, a month? Ben asks the woman to pass along the message that it's about the tape Ben received in the mail, and that it's urgent. From the other end of the hallway, Bobby turns toward a voice asking, "It's a little late for Halloween, isn't it?" He turns to regard Audrey, walking toward him and carrying a basket, continuing on, "What are you supposed to be, a lounge lizard?" Heh. Bobby straightens what I'm pretty sure is a different tie than the one he left the house wearing and asks, "Shouldn't you be in school?" Audrey retorts, "School numbs my buns, what about you?" Bobby will allude only to the fact that he has some personal business to take care of with Audrey's dad. He's looking for a job. Audrey tells him that he's "up to something," hands him the basket, tells Bobby to "count to ten," and walks into daddy dear's lair. Bobby adopts that glazed-over, resolutely unsmart look of, "What is this, the SATs?" and gingerly begins counting aloud as well as he feels he can. She returns at around "five" (his sigh of relief is almost palpable, double digits looming as they were), takes her basket back, and informs him, "The first rule of business is you have to know who to talk to." He tells her, "I owe you one," and then sticks his gum on the wall outside Ben's office before entering. Good job-seeking strategy. Hey, that's just how I got my job with MBTV, brand new coat of paint on the office walls at the corporate offices in Dayton be damned. I'm sure there's a certain intrigue assumed in the prospect of pairing up debatably the two best-looking members left in the cast, but there's something about this whole Girl Friday thing that's already a yawner.
Oh, but this isn't a yawner at all. Bobby walks inside the office to find Ben sitting in his chair, wearing an untucked dress shirt, a navy blue smoking jacket with red satin cuffs, and sunglasses. Smoking a cigar and never once looking at Bobby, Ben slams on a button somewhere in his desk and screams, "Samantha, bring in a flyswatter, there's a bug in my office!" Hee. Two large men escort Bobby back into the hallway, but Audrey shows up just in time to tell them to put him down and step away. He thanks her for saving his life, and asks her if there's anything he can do to thank her. Ice cream. "Cup or cone?" Hey, Toledo called, they told me we'd be able to see this joke coming: "Cone. I like to lick." Yeah yeah yeah. Of course you do.
Hardy and Mountie sit in the interrogation room instantly recognizable as that from the pilot, right on down to the television sitting at the far end of the long wooden table. This time, however, Cooper sits on the other side of the table, in what I think we're supposed to take as a clear sign that this is going to develop as the major plot arc that will fill in that small hole left by the end of that whole Palmer case. Let's see, which of these themes ring as being more exciting for dramatic television entertainment: "grisly murder" or "malfeasance." Well, it's a toss-up and all, but I still think I'm going to have to go with KILL ME. Hardy inquires as to Cooper's first visit to One-Eyed Jacks, which Cooper replies was to "gather information about the death of Laura Palmer from Jacques Renault." Cooper asks if he's being held responsible for Jacques' murder, which he considers odd, seeing as Leland confessed. They move on to Cooper's second visit, which was "to rescue Audrey Horne from her kidnappers." Mountie tacks on, "And both are dead." In the process of getting Audrey back onto American soil, it seems the FBI bungled a Canadian sting operation to snag Jean Renault. And the Canadians are not real happy about all that: "We worked six months to set this up. One night you march in. Renault escapes, two men are dead, and the cocaine we were using for the set-up was missing from the premises." Cooper says he knows nothing about any cocaine, but corrects Mountie's math (silly, silly Canada) in telling him that, in fact, three people were killed: Blackie, Battis, and a security guard who pulled a gun on Cooper. Cooper is given twenty-four hours to assemble his defense, but I don't really know what the charges are. They're definitely accusing him of international drug smuggling. they call in Truman, who John Waynes his way through the scene in telling them that he's going to be wholly unhelpful, and won't even talk to them without a subpoena from a judge. They thank him for his time, but I don't think they're feeling all that thankful.
Back at TPHS, we find ourselves outside on the football field in the middle of cheerleading tryouts. Nadine is called up, and after the whispers subside, her stunt double kicks ass with flips and turns all around the place. She has triumphed over adversity. She will make the team. Y'know, I was waiting for the inevitable Twin Peaks/Girls Just Wanna Have Fun crossover episode extravaganza for my entire life, and, finally, there it just was.
Back at Chez Johnson, Shelley kneels before Leo and brushes his teeth with an electric toothbrush. She ignores a ringing phone, telling a doubtlessly sympathetic Leo, "I'm not answering that. All day, not one word." Finally, she does get up and picks up the phone: "Johnson's Nursing Home." She pauses the requisite amount of time to hear the caller say, "Ih," before sarcastically responding, "That's great, Bobby, I'm glad things went so well. That must have been the longest meeting in history." She continues on that she really thinks it's time to put Leo in a home, as the camera frames Shelley from practically underneath the wheel of Leo's chair, which inches forward considerably during her conversation. She finishes up apropos of this: "Bobby, I've been thinking. We have to do something with Leo, put him in a home. It's not worth it. I don't want the money. Bobby, I want a life." She looks at the wheelchair. "He moved. Bobby, Leo moved." Didn't he, um, already move? What. Ever.
Double R, where recap-worthy scenes continually fear to tread. Mama Legs finds Norma folding the tablecloths and putting them away, and she tells her mother, "The critic has spoken. I feel like a fool." Mama Legs tells her that the review wasn't that bad, and Norma wah-wahs about this business being all she has in the world, and how she doesn't anticipate attracting any new customers with a review of, "If you want local color, stop in. But if it's good food you want, find a wider berth." Mama Legs curiously corrects her, "It was local charm, not color." Norma inquires as to whether Mama Legs memorized the review, and Mama Legs actually provides the biggest eyebrow-raiser this episode could hope to offer (which is actually a scathing indictment of the episode, I'll have you know, and not a celebration of the sudden relevance of Mama Legs) in admitting that -- dun-DUN-duuuuuuuuuuuuun -- she's MT Wentz! Oh, my heart. Mama Legs tells her, "Darling, I wanted to give you a good review. But this is just not a good restaurant." Which makes me feel all mad and protective about this plywood Hollywood soundstage labeled "RR." Stupid Mama Legs. Norma tells her to get out. Mama leaves, and Norma starts to cry. Because her life sucks and she knows it.
But she doesn't know quite how bad. Cut to what was once Blackie's office inside of One-Eyed Jacks, where Hank and Mama Legs' husband, that loser Dudley Moore-ish guy, carry leggy broads in garters and fishnets into the room and then send them on their way. Hank is wearing Army fatigues and jubilantly celebrating a victory of some kind. They ambiguously (der) discuss doing something with Mama Legs' money for a moment, then turn around to come face-to-face with a strangely non-dead Jean Renault. Jean picks up the francophone and dials in something about how "a recent investment opportunity fell through. Leaves us in a cash-poor position. We need one-hundred and twenty-five thousand, immediately." Dudley says that he "understands" Jean's position, and that he's "hard-wired." Eh? Jean calls another tuxedoed man into the room, who we identify as the once-uniformed Mountie from earlier in the episode. He carries in a metal briefcase, which he slams down on the desk and opens to reveal several bags of cocaine. Hank asks Dudley, "You can handle a puny little bag like this, can't you?" Jean sends Hank and Dudley down to the casino, and once he and Mountie are alone, Mountie comments, "I don't like the look of him. Too nervous." Jean haw-haw-haws something about this being the last nail in Cooper's coffin. This is the scene during which I invariably fall into a deep sleep when I'm mid-marathon, every single time. No exaggeration. Every single time. I just deleted the "hgk;jdhs;kjhcc" of my head slamming into the keyboard, but trust me, it was there.
Sleepytime in Harry Truman's bedroom. He's awoken by a rustling sound outside his window, and he grabs a gun and makes for the door. He flings it open, and into his arms falls a clearly distressed Josie "Asia Minor" Packard. He falls on top of her, and they begin kissing passionately. For those of you who thought "couldn't get any worse" was just an expression.
Out in the woods, Cooper and Major Briggs toast marshmallows over their campfire, Cooper kicking things off Old-School Style: "Y'know, Major, I find myself thinking a lot about BOB. If he truly exists." The Major claims that he has pondered the same question, and Kyle foreshadows so far in advance that said shadow briefly blocks out the sun in Pittsburgh, the geographical equivalent distance from Twin Peaks that we are from this point to the end of the series: "I try to imagine him out there, incarnate, looking for another victim to inhabit." Briggs responds that it is some men's fate to encounter great darkness in their lives, and that each man must decide how he will respond to it: "If the choice is fear, then we become vulnerable to darkness. There are ways to resist. You sir, were blessed with certain gifts. In this respect, you are not alone." Glacial pause. New dramatic subplot alert. The Major continues, "Have you ever heard of…The White Lodge?" Huzzah! Jump on that and let's move forward. Cooper pops a marshmallow and claims that he has not, and after a quick shot of a Steadicam Comin' Through The Rye and an orchestral swell, Cooper stands up and breaks the mood nicely: "Major, I'm gonna take a moment here. And feel the call of nature. There's nothing quite like urinating out in the open air." He looks forward to hearing more about "this White Lodge" when he returns. He walks off deeper into the woods, looking up to heed the call of an owl-not-what-it-seems. Just then, a bright white light bathes the campfire, and Cooper runs back toward it to find Major Briggs gone. Then my tape abruptly cuts off and reappears midway through the opening theme of week's episode, before the formal apology from Lynch/Frost Studios even had the chance to fade up on my screen. And I'm sure there was one. Well, there damn well better have been.
Anyway, gotta ramble. Hi, Bobby.