Whatever. The bald gentleman approaches Cole with details of Raige's slow-motion accident, confirming that both she and the other driver were injured. "All you gotta do is a little mind control on the witnesses and maybe a cop," the gentleman adds, "and we're golden." Cole pounds the last of his martini and rises to leave, but the stripper reject boobs into his face and shoves him back onto the couch. "No time for one little dance?" she heaves. "Kaia," Cole leers after darting a "get lost" glance at the bald gentleman. Kaia? Ha! Where's the crap poetry, hon? Actually, this Kaia lacks the other's lockjaw and really looks more like Amaya after a nose job, what with the blonde hair and the vulgar simper and the massive bumper bullets protruding from her chest and everything. Cole settles back as K'Amaya swivels, and he mutters, "You know what I like." K'Amaya wiggles vacantly and morphs into Feeb form. K'Feebs grins, straddles Cole's waist, and grinds her nether bits into his groin.
I can't...I just...it's too...oh, JESUS.
Cole's eyes glaze over with something we're meant to assume is lust and isn't it funny how "lust" and "disgust" rhyme and Cole plants his hands on K'Feebs's ass and she pushes his maw into her cleavage and Cole emerges from the cleavage chasm all sweaty and drooling and K'Feebs opens her mouth and drops out of sight through the bottom of the frame and she is not giving him a blowjob no she's not giving him a blowjob no she's not giving him a blowjob because it's the Sunday-night family hour on the WB and the network censors just wouldn't do that to us no they can't no they can't be doing that to me and Cole grunts and the credits and the cleavage and the sweating and the blowjob and the fingernails clawing at my face and the blood squirting from my eyes and the vomit and hello heretofore unwanted sequel to Final Destination! You can drop a construction crane on my head RIGHT NOW!