So far, this show has illuminated how much it sucks to be a polygamist, but this most recent episode illuminates how much it sucks to have polygamist in-laws. Following their eviction from a hotel, Frank and his four wives descend on the Henricksons' homes plus, and it's not pretty. Nita and her posse of wives-who-aren't-Lois scratch Margene's car, driving everyone else to distraction with their clucking and passive-aggressiveness and nasty yappy little drop-kickable-dogs. Lois, however, comports herself with style and brioâ¦right up to the moment when she apparently suffers demonic possession and consents to lay down with Frank.
As for the man Lois and the rest are married toâ¦he's an animal, peeing in the sink, making phone calls to Roman to try and sell Bill out, and generally making the audience wish that someone would hurry up and kill him already.
Thanks to Frank's phone call, Bill and Joey's trip up to see Roman for a meeting ends up being a disaster. Angry after Roman stood him up, Bill swings by Lois's old cabin, gets into a brawl with the new occupants, then heads up to Roman's house and surprises him in bed with one of his wives. The other wives don't take well to this at all. Bill manages to salvage something -- a chance to lay out his offer to Roman -- and grabs Roman's guitar on the way out.
Speaking of multiple wivesâ¦Bill's three spend the entire episode enduring varying degrees of misery. Margene is not at all pleased with being low wife on the totem pole (although she's not unhappy to have been the one to take Bill to the hospital), Nicki goes into panic mode after she wrongly concludes that Bill is about to find out about her debt, and Barb is miserable because she's ended the affair with Bill and realized he'll never leave his other wives for her. What only makes that realization worse: when Bill's brother Joey confesses he's a closet monogamist, and he's willing to walk away from the compound to stick to his belief.
Previously on Three and No Half Wives: Jacob rocked the house with his substitute recap; Roman illustrated why it's never a good idea to entrust your worldly livelihood to accountants, ex or otherwise; Barb found out that Nicki has a little impulse-control problem. No, not the lying. The shopping.
We start with one of the great cheap jokes: a dog licking a person's face and that person assuming it's their amorous interest waking them up with some moist affection. I have always been baffled by this idea, but I am not at all a morning person and would be more likely to rip out the offending tongue by the root than consent to giving up precious sleep for a little antemeridian slap-and-tickle. Bill soon realizes it's the dog and reacts with disgust. We see Sue-Sue, one of Frank's silent wives (she's the one who looks like there's a lot of wide open space behind her dull button eyes), making impotent gestures to summon that yappy little dog, and it finally scampers over. Bill lies in bed, fresh horror breaking over his face as he realizes he wasn't having a nightmare -- he's woken into one.
That nightmare: the non-Lois wives of Frank have moved in to Margene's house. Bill walks downstairs and greets Nita. She cheerily says, "Look at that backyard. It was too dark to see last night. It's a fairyland!" That backyard is still a bleak and grassless hell, but if you've been raised down on Juniper Creek, I suppose anything that's not covered in dust and pregnant sixteen-year-olds looks like paradise. Nita offers Bill hot water and lemon, but he demurs because he's off to the office. Nita asks, "On Holy Saturday?" and Bill tells her they're open every day but Christmas. Really? Even Thanksgiving? I suppose all those people who decide to deep-fry a turkey at the last minute need to go somewhere for their contraptions.
Then one of this week's recurring motifs is introduced: the damn dog is chewing on something. In this case, it's Bill's loafer. He saves it from the dog's untender attentions (Sue-Sue is impotently bleating for the dog to mind her. Good luck with that one, honey), and Nita blathers on about how they're all grateful to him for taking them all in during "our hour of need, our dark night of the soul." Bill flees. Sue-Sue goggles at the dog, and I conduct a brief mental debate: Mentally retarded or senile?
Bill tramples through the kitchen and greets a breakfast-eating Teeny with, "'Mornin', redhead. Grandma up yet?" Teeny ain't tellin'. As Bill heads out, we see that Frank's been sleeping in the car.