Anyway, Audrey pouts, and promises that she'll cheerfully make herself scarce when Joey's "beau" arrives for the weekend. Joey almost smiles, and tells Audrey that, first, he's not her "beau," and, second, he's not coming anymore. "Dunston's not coming?" Audrey says, making her, officially, my girlfriend. "Do you need me right now?" she asks. "Because if you need me, I'll totally get rid of Zack. You may not be aware of this yet, but I'm pretty awesome like that." Joey half smiles and tells Audrey that she has to go see Prof. Wilder anyway. "And that's what you're wearing?" Audrey asks. "What do you mean?" Joey wonders. That when you sit down in his office in those low-cut jeans, you'll end up with your bare ass hanging out all over the place, and, also, maybe you should put on a bra? No, apparently Audrey thinks Joey needs to gussy up a bit, since Wilder's "gorgeous." No, he's really not. I had a gorgeous English professor, myself, once. Actually, truly gorgeous. Like an unholy combination of Robert Redford in The Great Gatsby and Rob Lowe. He got fired for having sex with several of his female students and is now a traveling soap salesman. Word to the wise. Joey huffs that she's going to see Wilder about a paper, not to hit on him, and flounces out of the room. Audrey sighs.
When Joey arrives at Wilder's office, she finds a line of co-eds practically wrapped around the building. "Is this all for Professor Wilder?" she asks the girl in front of her. "Mmm hmm. And worth every minute of it, if you ask me," the girl purrs. Joey sort of shakes her head, disgusted, and leaves. As she's walking down the steps out of the building, which Tiresome Addition To The Cast does she see leaping out of his first-floor office window and into the bushes? Correct! Professor "Indiana Jones Complex" Wilder. Maybe Joey ought to write "Extra" and "Credit" on her eyelids, in hopes of raising that C to a B. In his haste to escape all the horny teenage girls in tube tops who really want to talk about Franny and Zooey with him, Wilder almost runs right into Joey. She smiles wryly and raises her brows. "Busted," Wilder admits. "What are you doing?" Joey asks, as she falls into step with him, crossing the quad. "Escaping the hordes," he says, complaining that he can be stuck in his office "for hours." Or, you know, he could just post office hours and then stick to them, like every English professor I ever had. Except for, you know, the soap salesman. Joey muses that it "must be nice," having freshman girls swooning over him. "Oh, don't worry," he says. "I go home and have the wife and kid bitch me out for a couple of hours. Keep me grounded." What a tool. His kid bitches him out? His kid can't be more than five. I think Professor Wilder might be happier over with the cast of The Mind of the Married Man, where he can talk about what a pain in the ass it is to have a family to his heart's content. Joey doesn't care, though. She really just wants to talk about her story. She's having problems following his non-constructive criticism, because "nothing happened" after the kiss. She doesn't know what to write. "Where do you want the story to go?" Wilder asks. "See, writing is about making choices, Joey. And you copped out. You stopped before you made a choice. Now, I don't even know what the kiss meant." Joey makes her Perplexed Student look. "It was just a kiss," she sputters. "That doesn't mean anything to me," Wilder insists. "Make a choice. Was it sweet? Was it friendly? Was it passionate? Was it 'I want to lay you down on the nearest flat surface and do ungodly things to you'? Or was it…goodbye?" Wilder looks down at Joey All Meaningfully, and then walks off. Joey looks -- oh, you know. Stricken, and stuff. Also: "Lay you down on the nearest flat surface and do ungodly things to you"? I want to die.
Speaking of stupid Dawson, he's still wandering around the lot in an outfit that makes him look like a castaway from Loser Island. Way to dress up for your first day of work, dude. His shirt isn't even ironed. Also, the chest hair. The soundtrack screams as Dawson gazes blissfully at all the Hollywood folk peppering the lot: the girl dragging the costume rack, the actresses in full make-up, the people sitting around and waiting. Finally, he enters his new office, where the receptionist tells him she'll be right back, and runs off. He stands in the foyer for a moment until a young Asian woman comes bounding out and kisses him on both cheeks and frenetically starts throwing out the names of Los Angeles nightspots, trying to place him. Dawson just looks confused. "Okay, forget it, we don't know each other," she says, and takes him into a conference room, where she sits him down and tells him he's a fantastic writer. Oh, I can't wait for the sure-to-be-humiliating denouement of this particular story arc. "How can you tell?" Dawson wonders. "It's my job, sweetie," says the misguided D-Girl. Dawson sputters something about being "a huge fan of Todd's." D-Girl agrees he's "amazing. An f'ing genius," and somehow manages to turn the conversation around to her idea of doing a feature version of 7th Heaven. "What do you think?" she asks. Dawson wrinkles his massive brow. "I think that's…you know…weird," he says. "Exactly!" D-Girl chirps, and tells him that he's got "exactly the right voice for the project." She then calls him David. Cue the David/Dawson/David exchange, and, sure enough, turns out that D-Girl mistook Dawson for a new writer Todd's got on the hook, and has to call in the receptionist to ask her who the hell he is. "He's the new intern," the receptionist says. Dawson grins sheepishly.