Lip and Ian take Carl to the church to be molested, and Lip is harassing Ian about his date night -- "Ooh, Mandy date or Kash date?" -- and calling him a slut, and then they hear Carl beating the shit out of the priest with a censer, so now we have a priest. Yay! A kid-fucking one.
Which again, maybe this just isn't the week for whatever reason, but cancer and the RCC's approval of institutionalized rape are just not funny to me right now. Maybe next time. I'll think up a whole bunch of rape jokes and dead-mom jokes this week and have them ready by next Tuesday, I promise.
Steve asks if this isn't all just "like lying to God's face," and Fiona laughs at him because they're in a stolen car as he says this. "It's not like I have a priest in the back," he shrugs, and she confirms that he's going to be picking up the wedding cake for his part. Then an awkwardly written transition to a handjob, which is sadly cut short before it even starts by the cops pulling over the stolen car, but of course it's Tony. Who looks, as usual, dapper and fine. Fiona's super sweet with him, and he's coming to the wedding... But he still wants to run Steve's stuff.
Steve hands over fake ID and cops to having no registration onhand, and Tony is sort of policey about it, and then while he's gone she's like fuck fuck fuck so he calls up Jesus on the phone and somewhere a few streets away there are some gunshots and Tony has to take off, tossing the fake ID through the window. Apparently Jesus was behind them in a "follow car" during the theft, and now will be coming back for the car later... As soon as Steve can pry off the plates and toss them in a mailbox and push Fiona up against a pillar of the El and make out with her so hardcore because of the adrenaline, and then even awesomer run away into the night, leaving her panting and breathless and shameless.
That's so true, though. It's like that old story about the footsteps and Jesus is like, "That was me all along, helping you boost that Mercedes."
At the Alibi, Frank is having trouble shutting up and going from maudlin to rageful to crazy to pointless like a zoetrope of boring, and then Kev's friend shows up with bachelor party stuff and Kev is forced to invite Frank along. They will all be wearing giant wigs, which will contribute: Drollness. (And if you ever start thinking we're hitting our post-racial stride, I suggest you Google Image search "giant afro," because it will make you very tired and more than a little sick.)
Ian's in Kash's house for about five seconds before the meltdown. Pictures of the wife and her headscarves, the boys in the uniforms, and all the art on the walls is words because of how that whole thing works, and it's all just too much. Plus, and thanks for that, Ian, "It smells like goats in here!" But I mean, have some common sense before you just stick a person in the middle of your married life. What didn't feel like cheating before sure as fuck is cheating now.
Bachelor and Bachelorette Parties, as depicted in a host of snapshots: Girls on poles, girls that can get their legs behind their ears, girl-on-girl smooches... And that's just V's party. The boy party is mostly Frank being horrible all over Chicago. But they do look pretty real, all things considered. The girls run into Frank, heading home, and he's got the wig and his face is all torn up and he's dragging bungee cords behind him which were apparently just a smidge too long. Maybe this has something to do with his Bucket List whining before the party, but he didn't die unfortunately, so mostly it's just a chance to laugh at him some more.
Kev's got the wig, about five dicks drawn on his face, and a nasty case of the blurgs when he hears an intruder and goes out with like some hairspray to take him down. It's a huge black man! Oh, it's Veronica's brother Marty, so it's fine. They head over to Fiona's and she's like, "I'm the maid of honor at your fake wedding and I didn't even know you had a brother?" There are a host of reasons for that: Until last night he was in prison for aggravated assault, larceny and arson. ("Is that like a sibling-brother, or just a black-guy brother?" asks Lip, which I guess is funny but nobody would ever actually say except someone on a Showtime show. The Kevin Nealon factor.)
Luckily: "You remember the fire at the Curves in the mini mall? That was him. He loves setting fire to things and he hates women, it was the Perfect Storm." Ha! That is great. Kev starts saying about how fucked up he is, like one time he was drinking a beer and here comes Marty, all ass cunt fuck and this, by which Fiona's confused: "Is he retarded?" No, he's got Tourette's, coupled with bipolar disorder and a drinking problem. "He's a shrink's wet dream," V says, and vows to kick his ass all the way back to prison: "If there's one person you can always count on to really fuck things up, it's Marty."
The doctor tells Frank the biopsy was negative, but then jokes around that his bungee injury will probably kill him. "I'm fuckin' with you. The bump looks pretty superficial, but if you vomit more than twice, have any seizures, or experience memory loss, call 911." He says some charming shit about "what if I vomit while I'm having a seizure and have no memory of it," and the doctor -- awesomely -- goes, "Tree in the forest, my friend." No fucking kidding. I wish she would come back every week just so we know how lame Frank is.
V tries to talk Marty into going back to jail, and he argues and yells swears all the time, because that's how Tourette's works, it's hilarious and harmless, and he's just like, "I don't wanna miss your wedding day!" I hope something terrible doesn't go on there.
"This is the dress that I will wear this afternoon. And it will protect me, like this house protects me. This is the dress. And today is the day. And the day is good."
Oh, Sheila. Joan Cusack was, in some ways I think, born for this role. It's just so fucking sad and real and honest and powerful and ridiculous. Eddie, this is the first sense we've gotten of how implicated he is in all this shit: "You look nice. Where are you pretending to go?" She ignores him. "I'm going to a wedding today. I am really gonna do it this time. And it's supposed to be a beautiful day today. Beautiful, and safe, and sunny..." Eddie scoffs and reminds her that the sun's just a burning ball of fire that could plunge from the sky at any time, and that's how you know it's okay to fucking hate Eddie.
Lounging on the bed with Kev, Fiona wonders if maybe Marty should come after all, and Veronica does an unkind impression of all the ways he could fuck it up, which of course Marty overhears, so he takes the wedding dress -- which really is gorgeous -- into the bathroom, along with a fireplace lighter. "It's a real pretty dress, Roni! It'll burn nicely, with all this taffeta! You send me back to jail, this dress goes up! This house goes up! We all go up!"
I am usually charmed by arsonists, but even in comparison there's just something about the way he speaks that I really enjoy. "It'll burn nicely!" I just love that. Later, they've got Debbie up a ladder staring in at him watching him flick the lighter on and off, wondering what to do, and Veronica refuses to call the cops because that's what they're like on this show, and she wails about how he's always been like this, center of attention stuff: "This is what he did at Granddaddy's funeral. Gutted out half the hospice!" Burning hospices are not funny, Jacob. Stop laughing, Jacob. Anyway, what to do? Mourn the public healthcare in our country, I suppose. (Stop!)
"All I wanted was to own my own home, and maybe some small kitchen appliances." Aww. Marty's still barricaded and they're just sitting around being sad and wondering what to do. V admits that, though she hates other people's kids (obviously the Gallaghers are not in that category) she was looking forward maybe to kids. "A little Tomorrow Person!" Kev says. "That's what I call little mixed-race babies: Tomorrow People. Little People Of