At school, Jack and Andie have set up a table and a big sign that says "Alternative Prom Tickets Half Price" right next to Barbara's table. ["I find it hard to believe that some school official wouldn't have prevented them from selling the tickets at school, but whatever." -- Wing Chun] Jack remarks that "this thing could actually turn out to be a success," and as a punk couple approaches their table, Andie twitters, "In a manner of speaking." Barbara, attired in an outfit straight off the rack at Ross Dress For Less that's about forty years too old for her, leans over and snipes that "just because the dregs of society go to your prom does not make it a success. Nobody that matters would be caught dead there. I certainly wouldn't go if you paid me." As the writers of Some Kind Of Wonderful wait patiently for their check, Jack shrugs, "Oh, that's a good thing, 'cause we don't want your kind at our prom." "And what kind is that, the good Christian kind?" Whatever, Barbara. Judge not, lest ye be judged. Look it up. Jack snorts that "this is not about religion, Barbara; I mean the kind that hates people. You know, the intolerant, judgmental, hypocritical kind -- close-minded, immature, bigoted kind?" "With bad fashion sense," Andie pipes up from his other side. "Really bad," Jack snarks. Ha! McPhees 2, Barbara 0. Barbara snits that at least she's not "going to hell." Jack and Andie laugh in her face, and Jack wants to know if "that's [her] whole comeback," and Andie makes an I'm-so-scared-not face and goes, "Oooooh," so Barbara says that she thinks the threat of eternal damnation "is a pretty good comeback," but Jack points out that "that threat is not yours to make. You just don't get it, do you? You're totally missing the point." That shuts Barbara up, finally. Go, Clan McPhee. Oh, and this just in -- if you really believe that gays and lesbians will go to hell, you'd better ask one of them to save your bigoted ass a seat.
Grams pins up an old tuxedo of Gramps's to fit Henry. Jen says he'll look great; Henry says he feels "like a busboy." Grams blathers on about "the burden of men" and how they have to stand in the background and let the ladies shine, and Jen thinks Henry shines "just fine on his own," which I'll agree with because Make-up put about a pound of lip-gloss on Michael Pitt for some reason, and Grams's kettle whistles, so she leaves the room, at which point Jen thinks it's time that she and Henry "had the talk." "The talk?" Henry repeats. "Yeah, the prom sex talk," Jen says. Henry repeats, "The prom sex talk?" Jen thinks it would have come up sooner or later; Henry says, "Not necessarily," and Jen busts on him for expecting her to believe that he didn't think anything would happen in that department. Henry starts to protest, but Jen delivers a monologue about the pressure to have sex on prom night and how the sex ends up sucking as a result (can't argue with her there), so she thinks they should agree now "not to do it." Henry says he's "in no race [sic]," but he asks if they "are going to do it -- eventually, right?" Jen smiles indulgently at him, and they start kissing. Yawn.