Dr. Goldfine is out jogging on an overpass. (I initially thought it was a bridge, but careful examination revealed that, where there would be water, tall trees grow. Also you can totally hear the sound of traffic, and yet there are no cars in sight. So: therefore, I deem this bridge an overpass.) The whimsical "everything's fine, everything's dandy" Wisteria music is already trilling away, so you know the good doctor is in trouble. And here it comes! George, with his helmeted head tucked, cycles past Dr. Goldfine, and then parks his bike and starts stretching against the short-ish cement wall of the overpass. The second Dr. Goldfine comes into range, George grabs him, punches him, slams his head down on the wall, and then tosses him over the side. If you listen closely, you can hear the sickening sound of Dr. Goldfine's body landing just a few split seconds later. George takes a quick look around and then rides off. And...goodnight, Dr. Goldfine! Wow. George was so very casual about that there murder, I wonder if he's done something violent like that before? I mean, killing Rex by passively switching his pills is one thing. But beating, smashing, and tossing a person to their death? That's something else altogether, and frankly it entails a kind of muscular strength I didn't think George would be capable of. Again I say: wow. Also? Poor Bree! When she discovers that she's engaged to a violent murderer, she's really going to need a good therapist.

Gabby, wearing a towering hairpiece and the same blue dress, is standing in her foyer arranging flowers when the doorbell rings. As she geisha-steps over to the door, the caterers in the background say something about opening the champagne. Caterers! Champagne! Gabby, it appears, really went all out for what is basically just a party of four women who don't eat. Gabby throws open the door, and there are her three model friends. (I don't know much about these things, but given their height and the standard quality of their good looks, I'd say they were more catalog models than supermodels. Spiegel catalog models, even.) Immediately, they all start flapping their hands and screaming that high-pitched "ahhhhhhhh!" that is some women's way of saying hello. Once the screams die down, the models take a good look at Gabby, and the middle one yells, "Oh my god, you're pregnant." Gabby's face falls comically -- all that squeezing and fasting for naught! -- and the girls flock around Gabby, hugging and squealing.