Big ups to: the kids at the forums; Sars, for her amazing never-ending editing abilities; and Kellogg's, for making that new Special K With Red Berries, which single-handedly got me through this episode. You rock so hard the boat may tip over. ["You're welcome -- and thanks for the confirmation that that's a good cereal. I'd wondered about that. Now I will buy me some." -- Sars]
So, a couple of nights ago I had a dream where I was working in a sweatshop owned by J.J. Abrams. Our job was to stitch together coherent plots out of leftover Felicity storylines and pages randomly ripped out of Frederick Forsyth novels. The worst part is I had to pee, but J.J. Abrams, wearing tiny little granny glasses and high-gloss jack-boots, wouldn't let any of us go until we'd figured out a way for Sydney to wear a shiny pleather corset and rappel down the side of a building in the next episode. It was terrible. The dream, too.
Now. On to this week's soggy mish-mash of Felicity the Spy. Watch out for those nuggets of nonsensical plot filler. Those suckers are a bitch to pass.
Previously: a terrorist named Jacquenod and some other guy whose name sounds like Mena Suvari plant a bomb inside Patel, the winner of the "Edgar Peace Prize." Sydney spies on them. They also edited this week's "Previously," so you don't hear one of the baddies say that they're planting "the equivalent of 300 pounds of TNT" inside Patel. You'll see why later.
Sao Paolo. Sydney. Bronzer. Gold Charo outfit. She's watching the surgery. Ah-nuld 2, the bodyguard from the last episode who recognized Sydney while she was wearing her I'm-a-refugee-from-a-Lucky-Charms-box outfit, drags her up by her hair. He says, "Recognize me now?" and cold-cocks her. Cut.
Ah-nuld 2 walks down the hall, dragging Sydney by the strap of her hideous gold tank top to a furnace room. Wouldn't that be hard on his shoulder, not to mention hers? Wouldn't he use a fireman's lift, since it's more efficient? Also, that tank top has to be made of molybdenum, since it hasn't ripped. He menaces her and asks who does Number Two work for. He says if she doesn't sing like a bird (or words to that effect), he's going to "throw her in the fire." He's choking her the entire time he's demanding that she talk. Isn't that just like a man? Sydney stabs him in the neck with a pen she snagged from his coat. She dispenses some more pain with a steel pole, and runs.