As the opening guitar strums its merry way along, Ruthie and Peter board a school bus with their classmates. They take a seat, while everyone around them probably thinks, "Oh, great, we have to sit near that dorkwad couple." Ruthie bitches that their school does the zoo field trip "every other year" and she gets it by now. Peter says it always sucks because they have to get up early and get stuck in traffic. God, I didn't even do this much complaining about a field trip when my biology class had to go to the sewage treatment plant. Because field trips mean that time that would have been spent in school is instead spent somewhere else, and that's good enough for me. Even if that somewhere else features a million-gallon vat of soap scum and bacon grease, as well as an up close and personal look at the "heavier sediment" that can be found in sewage. And now Ruthie starts in with the quasi-philosophical bullshit about how she and Peter are the ones in cages, not the animals. Everything in their lives is "pre-packaged" and "controlled"; their parents drive them everywhere, and they have designated times when they have to do everything. Glenoak is their zoo, and their bedrooms are their cages. Peter asks what the bus signifies. "The meat wagon, taking us to slaughter," Ruthie says. "I think you went a step too far with that metaphor," Peter responds. Pity.
Even though it's supposed to be, like, six o'clock in the morning, it's never too early for Annie to start making dinner! She's got a kitchen table packed with ingredients for her stew. I guess you have to put in about fifteen potatoes and a pound of onions when you're cooking for five hundred or however many people are staying in the CamPound these days. As RevCam sits at the nearby kitchen table and bravely attempts to ignore the prattle, Annie peels a carrot and gets quasi-philosophical herself, except since her world is so narrowly defined by the one room of the CamPound she usually inhabits, all she can talk about is dinner. She says you can't get a smaller word than "stew," which is stew-pid, because obviously there are smaller words than that. For instance, in that last sentence, there were five words with fewer letters than "stew," and another four of equal size -- five, if you count "can't," which is a contraction. And yet, continues Annie, look at all that goes into this falsely-assumed-to-be-small word, like vegetables, two kinds of meat, and copious amounts of arsenic. She may not have said the last ingredient, but I'll bet it's going to be in there! Annie points everything out individually, being sure to do a strange dance with her goofily-outstretched arms as she does so. Thanks, Annie. It's not a real episode of 7th Heaven unless you're doing some sort of bizarre gyration that I am forced to witness.