Dopey finds Simon and asks him what he's doing. Simon makes some unfunny joke about being in an auto race. Dopey counters with the even-less-funny, "So they teach sarcasm in high school now?" He calls Simon a jerk, to which Simon replies, "Ouch," in a voice so sarcastic that it actually is funny. Matt turns to leave, then comes back in and starts busting on Robbie. When Simon asks what he's talking about, Dopey starts free-associating, asking Simon to play pool. Like a good little Camden, Simon says he must stay in and study. This is followed by some more unwitty repartee, which I won't repeat, since it offends my comedic sensibilities. We agnostics have standards too, you know. It's just that they rarely have anything to do with regulating other people's sexual behaviour. I'm not sure exactly what it is Dopey is trying to accomplish here, but he keeps hassling Simon to play pool tonight. To his credit, Simon does not back down. I start to wonder if Dopey will be spewing increasingly strange non sequiturs at Simon forever. I wander into the next room to chat with my husband for a bit. I convince him to take me to the craft store to buy supplies for making glycerin soaps. When we come back, Dopey is still prattling senselessly at Simon. We do a couple loads of laundry, and I get a little too ambitious trying to invent my own soap formulas. It takes a good long while to scrape my failed oatmeal-honey-cardamom soap out of the moulds, but when I get back to the VCR, Dopey is still nattering on. I pick up a nasty case of laryngitis and recover from it. A crow builds a nest and raises a family. Seasons change and civilizations crumble. Finally, Matt decides to leave Simon alone. I'm just in time to see him accost Ruthie with his complaint that his "best friend John" -- you know, the guy toward whom Dopey is so exceedingly unsupportive -- went out to play pool with Robbie. Ruthie helpfully points out that it must be because John "likes Robbie better." Ha! Neither Dopey nor Robbie is any great prize, as far as I'm concerned, but I never thought I'd find myself agreeing with Ruthie about anything. Shudder.
Down at the pool hall, St. Robbie shows off his newfound Camden-ness by prying into John's relationship with Priscilla. John says the weirdest thing: he mentions that the Not-So-Swingin' Bachelor Pad is too small for two people. Hmm, nobody ever said that when John and Dopey were living there together. John goes on to say that Priscilla is always baking stuff for him and keeping the fridge stocked. He's so lackluster about it, though, that Robbie figures out immediately that John is "miserable." Alas, that's how it is when a man is tied down to a woman and can't frolic with the other wolves. Or at least that's what the writers are hoping to convey, I imagine. John implores Robbie not to say a word to anyone about his troubles. Robbie says he won't. Famous last words, I'm sure. Robbie dispenses some of his saintly advice to John, suggesting that John discuss his issues with Priscilla. Wow, that is such an amazing suggestion. Where does he come up with this stuff? Obviously, divine intervention is required to think up advice that good. John comments that the Camden family is rubbing off on Robbie. I wonder if there's an easy household remedy to remove Camden stains from one's person. I'll bet it involves some sort of industrial-strength acid.