We begin tonight's musical montage portion of the show, which much to my aural distress features the music of Veruca's band, Shy. I try to choke down my rising gorge as I realize I'll have watch Veruca Streetchild (tm xixax) sway and throatily intone for yet another scene. Shy is practicing in the Bronze, Veruca's lip-synching is even worse than ever, and she's wearing the unsightly ensemble of a gray tank top, camel-toe flares that accentuate her fat thighs, and high-heeled sandals. I hate high heels worn with flares. I hate Veruca. Gah. As Veruca sings, we see Oz sitting pensively in his room and Willow looking distracted and sad in some sort of study group. We see Oz reaching for the phone and then a shot of the setting sun while Veruca croaks, "You have become something I need to destroy."
In the crypt, Oz is standing in his cage, looking anguished. Veruca, still in her camel-toe pants, comes down the stairs and sheds her jacket. "So this why you called me here? To see your Habitrail?" she inquires in a baiting tone. As she walks across the crypt floor, she engages in some bizarre body language -- first swinging her legs around and then throwing her arms and torso backwards while drawing a deep breath. It is so very, very easy to hate Veruca; I know I'm supposed to and all, and oh, I do. Veruca groans and says, "Right before sunset I get a little buzzed, you know?" and I run to the kitchen to fetch a trash can to use as a barf bucket, just in case. Oz is still standing in the doorway of his cage; he fixes her with an intense look and rasps, "C'mere." If I were faced with Oz saying that to me in that tone, I'd be in his arms lickety-split, but of course Veruca has to prolong my pain. She tells him she's not getting in his cage with him, and that she and Oz belong outside. Oz is obviously in great distress as he tells her that she can't "run loose" tonight, both because she might hurt someone and because Oz knows people will be hunting for them. Veruca approaches him with a mincing step and starts her singularly ungainly "sexy" posture -- shoulders hunched forward and rounded, head tipped back. She looks like she's about to go into convulsions. Not coincidentally, so am I. I grab the barf bucket and put in on my lap, just in case. Oz says Veruca will be safe in the cage, and she murmurs, "Not from you. Isn't that the point of this cozy little arrangement?" She approaches the door of the cage and begins to breathe deeply. I do as well, in an attempt to calm the gorge rising in my throat. Veruca says the change is coming and begins to launch into the pathetic and needy act that so distinguished her brief career on 90210. I know she's going for sexy here, but I've seen traffic cones that had more sex appeal. She tells Oz she sensed him and wanted him before she ever saw him, and demands to know if he felt the same. He just stares at her intensely and then with a great combination of reluctance and lust, he grabs her by the hair and pulls her into the cage. As they move into a clinch, Veruca pulls the cage door shut behind her. They kiss passionately and fall to the floor. We see just their hands, clasping, as their nails grow and they change into werewolves.
I pause the tape here to spend a full ten minutes breathing deeply into a brown paper bag, and then I gobble a handful of Dramamine.