Back in Shriekerville, Allie's working on her essay and is confused that there's no spell-check for the word "consequence." Jesus. READ SOMETHING. PICK UP A BOOK. I have no patience for people like this. Seriously. Brett offers to spell it for her. Note to Allie: Brett's got a brain; do you think she's going to follow you around for the rest of your life helping you spell shit? Wake up and smell the dictionary, dude. Both Allie and Brett then go on about how they're each other's best friends and how they're there for each other and blah blah blah co-dependency cakes.

So now, Abalone's finally managed to pick up the phone and call Brad. Too bad it's pretty much just to bitch him out for, well, nothing, really. She's saying how she stopped talking to him because a lot of the things she has to say, he doesn't really care about. "'Well, did you hear from college? Did you hear from college?'" she says, mimicking Brad. "You know that's something right now that bothers me and it's something I'm very sensitive to." Oh, Lord. Shut up. SHUT UP. She mentions again how all their friends got into college except for her, and Brad tries to reason with her, but she goes all squirrelly on him, and he finally gets off the phone because he has to call the University of Wisconsin at Madison and exclaim to the admissions office, "My grand plan has worked! Abby will NEVER get into UW-Mad! Never! NEVER! Boo-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Yet another day in the life of opportunist extraordinaire Puck Lite. He's stalking the halls with an empty Oreo package, searching for change. "What's this for?" some girl asks. "I wanna get into Harvard," Puck Lite retorts. Heh. Then he's in his kitchen talking about going to Harvard with his dad. "You're gonna apply to Harvard and they're going to say, 'You know, Morgan, we'd let you in except for these failing grades in gym.'" Hee. "I wanna go to Harvard," Puck Lite states. In an interview, Morgan tells us that he was once really excited about going away to college, but now he's sort of scared because it would mean he'd have to leave his home and his friends and be alone out in the great unknown. Awwww. "Harvard, Illinois," retorts his father. "That's as close as you'll get." "That's not funny," says Morgan. "You just shat on my dreams." At least I think that's what he said. I'm not sure Morgan actually knows the past tense of "shit" but, you know, he's surprised me so far, so I'll allow it.