Amanda is sketching Nina's portrait. The noise of the pencil on the paper starts bothering Nina, and she suddenly looks ill. She says she needs to lie down, and goes upstairs, holding her arms out to steady herself so that we can admire her cleavage. That's foreshadowing, as it turns out.

Nina walks into her bedroom, closes the door, and collapses onto the floor. Amanda hears the noise and starts upstairs as Nina begins to thrash about. Oh, an innocent, angelic child in danger! It's like a Spielberg film! As Amanda nears the door, calling for her aunt, Nina sits up and does a little tribute to An American Werewolf in London, holding her hand up to her face as her fingers and teeth lengthen.

Commercials. Johanna and I try to understand if they intend to make Spicule incredibly pointless and annoying, or if they think his ceaseless bitchery is actually intended as refreshing and honest and charming or whatever. God knows I was tired of the guy on Buffy, but at least he never reminded me of a Pomeranian over there. I think it's because he so clearly has nothing to do, and no way to do it, so they've just got him talking and talking and talking. Johanna declares that they should just give up on trying to gradually work him into the gang organically, or whatever they're doing, because it's just torture. Start next week's episode with a title card that says, "Then Spicule became corporeal and joined the MoG" and move the hell on already.