Back at the principal's office, Smalls peers out through the blinds at the glaring sunlight outside and nibbles a piece of scenery. Wiping his lips, he tells Pacey to convince him that he didn't commit the crime: "Tell me everything. Every…single…thing…you did…[dramatic pause]…yesterday." "Yesterday," Pacey muses all Sam Spade. Blah blah blah "where was I?"

Dissolve, accompanied by magical finger cymbals, to Pacey pinning Joey against the hood of an SUV and murmuring all kissyface, "Wheeeere was I?" Not having sex, that's where. Lingering smooches. Alter-not-ive stylings. The melodious snoring of Wing Chun, Glark, both my cats, and my left buttcheek. Joey tells Pacey he's a pushover for agreeing to go on a ride-along with his brother. Pacey thinks he should explore his options. Glark hogs the blanket. I grind up a No-Doz and snort it. Joey backstories that Doug has nagged Pacey for five years to do a ride-along -- despite the fact that 1) we've never seen such nagging, and 2) Doug has made it clear on numerous occasions that he'd consider Pacey a disgrace to the law-enforcement profession -- but Pacey has always told Doug "just to stick it." Blah blah blah Joey "lost episodes of Cop Rock" blah blah blah Pacey "don't you think I'd look sexy in a uniform" blah blah blah smooch smooch smooch blah blah blah badge-cakes. Just before the universe turns inside out and I become an old woman wearing purple, Doug "Car 54, Who Cares?" Witter comes out and leans on the cruiser. Joey gives him a cutesy wave. Pacey yammers something about the "rough-and-tumble asphalt jungle." Joey: "I'll pray for ya, sweetheart." "Asphalt jungle"? "Sweetheart"? Joey and her down-at-the-heels-English-TA velour blazer say hi to Doug and tell him to take care of "this punk" for her and "straighten him out a little bit." Shut up, Joey. Pacey observes, predictably, that "straight isn't a big part of Doug's vocabulary." Shut up, Pacey. Doug sets his jaw and tells Pacey to hurry up.