Yawn wakes up in bed with Katie, and the goddamn saxophone is totally going off. Hey -- the saxophone is a pre-seduction signifier. Not post-seduction! For the waking-up-together scene, the sound of birdies chirping is what goes. That, or the sound of breakfast being made. No freaking saxophones! Got it? Then the saxophone mercifully cuts off, unfortunately mimicking the way-overused sound of the needle being jerked off a record, and we see the principal from The Breakfast Club sitting in a nearby chair. He says to Yawn that he is Johnson from the CIA, and he kills rogue spies and assassins, and he sees that Yawn sleeps with them. Yawn raises an eyebrow -- I mean, "looks perplexed." If he has such excellent control over his eyebrows, why can't he place some effort towards shutting his mouth?
After the ads, we're back in the same place. Yawn sleepily interrogates Johnson until Katie wakes up and asks why he's talking to the coat rack. Oh my god, this bit is older than Jack Lalanne. It's older than Bob Hope's mother. It's so old, and yet they keep dusting it off and trotting it out. Oh well, only three episodes left! She pulls Yawn into her loving arms, and Johnson sticks his tongue out at Yawn in a nasty way. Yawn points in the direction of the bathroom.
In Katie's can, Johnson peppers Yawn with questions about the amulet, and says that the CIA even tried to change some of their agents into ghosts, but that's classified to Yawn, "pally." Hey, The Lone Gunmen called, they want their show back -- and to kick the writers' asses for daring to suggest an idea so cheesy that it didn't even occur to Chris Carter. Congratulations! You suck. Yawn tries to tell Johnson that Katie is just a caterer, since he knows all about her since he's spent a few naked hours with the woman, while Johnson insists that she used to be with the CIA for two years before ditching to work as a solo killer and spy. Sounds like? Three words, a good movie with John and Joan Cusack? Right! Grosse Point Blank! Except that this sucks and that was good. Johnson says to look in the medicine cabinet, because she has Advil and ibuprofen in there, and they can't both be medicine. How patently ridiculous to think one wouldn't have two kinds of pain reliever on hand. So patent that I think there's a patent on the idea. This is AMERICA, remember? The deodorant aisle in any drug store is larger than the meat aisle in most international grocery stores? We as a nation do smell that bad! Therefore, on the same principles of gluttony, we can and will buy many kinds of over-the-counter medications! Yawn grabs the bottle of Advil, nothing happens, and he shakes it like a maraca, if maracas played dirges.
Hungover and dazed, Jane, Hotty and Ameritrash stumble into a storefront that is the Mulravian embassy. It's a largish open office space with an oriental rug and some boxes and furniture. Exposed brick walls, painted cream, nice light...can you tell I just bought a house and am obsessed with such details? Well, I did and I am. Ameritrash tells Hotty to say he's the prince and see the drone, behind the desk eating soup, jump. The desk drone, in a sweater vest and with a hairstyle straight from Harold of Harold and Maude, comments that he heard the prince was in town. Not exactly a bow-and-scrape routine. Scotty fumbles; then the Drone comes out from behind the desk and asks if the four-star hotel became wearisome, or was it the "boom-boom-boom that came from [his] room," with a nod at Jane. Heh. That was the worst dance song ever. But I like lyrics with "boom" in them. You know, "Boom I got your boyfriend!" That's a good one. Anyway. Scotty asks to be shown his quarters, Drone uses the Japanese pronunciation of "futon," and Jane goes off to sleep. Don't wake up until the end of the hour, my dear. You've got nothing going on this episode.