We move across town as MAVO explains that we're now at the office of Dr. Albert Goldfine, the most accomplished marriage counselor in town. "He had dealt with problems ranging from substance abuse," she says, over footage of a young couple crying and blowing their noses, "infidelity," over footage of a Eugene Levy-esque fellow blowing his nose next to a whore-y looking woman, "to domestic violence," over footage of a woman beating her husband with the Kleenex box. Apparently, Dr. Goldfine thinks he's seen it all. Until, of course, he meets KimberBree and Rex. KimberBree, by the way, has come to therapy bearing "homemade potpourri." Dr. Goldfine looks somewhat taken aback by this gesture, as KimberBree sails past him into his office. Rex sighs. "The answer is yes. You're going to be making a fortune off of us," he says.
Over to Lynette, who is driving her passel of brats somewhere. They are screaming and squealing and basically acting like little assholes. She pleads with them to behave. They do not. The end. Oh, one more thing: Lynette has the baby in her car seat in the front passenger seat, when everyone nowadays knows it belongs in the back middle seat. Putting it there would also make it impossible for the three hellions to sit next to each other. Lynette, I have just solved all your problems. She's mid-plea to the hellbeasts when she gets pulled over by the cops. The police officer gives her the business for not having the kids in their seatbelts. And rightly so. When I was a kid, the car didn't move until everyone's belts were on. ["The ignition key didn't even get turned in my family." -- Sars] Lynette tells the police officer that she has a really frustrating time with her kids. "Well, you have to find a way to control them. After all, that's your job," he says patronizingly, and takes off to run her license. Lynette, of course, stews over this for a moment and then launches out of the van and after him. "You saying I'm a bad mother?" she demands. The cop tells her to get back in the car. "I have no help," Lynette pleads. "My husband's always away on business. My babysitter joined the witness relocation program. I haven't slept through the night in six years." She gets closer and closer to him. He puts his hand on his gun. "Ma'am," he says warningly. "And for you to stand there and judge me!" she spits. Behind her, the kids make terrible, terrible faces at him. And he tells her that he's just going to let her off with a warning. "I accept your apology," Lynette finally sniffs, and gets back into the car with her three terrible screaming brats. "Buckle up!" the office yells after her. Frankly, I think she should have offered to give up custody then and there.
Another part of town. Adorably gussied up in an adorable leopard print scarf and adorable matching shoes, Gabrielle sneaks out of her car and over to an adorable small house. Miguel answers the door. She smiles.