Previously: all of last week's developments (Bree finds some bloody teeth, Hair Zana stalks Gabby, CreePaul paid prison thugs to beat on Mike), plus Mary Alice reminds us not to forget that Alma and Gloria are in cahoots.
This week, Mary Alice applies the full force of her plummy voiceover on Orson's deep-rooted love of teeth. We see him admiring his own choppers in the mirror at home, and then we flashback to Orson at a barbeque, where he's conducting an impromptu examination of the long-in-the-tooth teeth of one of the Wisteria biddies. It's either The Drunk One or The Cat Lady, I can never, ever keep them straight, which of course terrible because it makes it seem like I think all whiteheads look alike (that's the politically correct term that kids at my high school used to describe elderly people, "whiteheads"). But really, do we even need both those characters? We already have plucky old Mrs. McCluskey; there just isn't enough plotlines to support another two old ladies, especially when they're essentially interchangeable. Can't we just morph them into one character, Drunk Old Cat Lady Whitehead? Or transgender one of them into a man?
Back to Orson and his love affair with teeth: There he is, looking deep into Edie's mouth at a neighborhood party (careful, Orse, many a man has disappeared into that sunny black hole). Next it's Carlos, soliciting free dental advice while standing next to a urinal. Which seems very wrong -- opening your mouth that wide with all those pee molecules floating around? Actually, I wonder if this little moment even has anything to do with dentistry; it could just as easily be a bathhouse romance. Anything's possible: Mary Alice has certainly been wrong before.
Back in the now. MA: "Yes, when it came to teeth, people expected Dr. Hodge to have all the answers. Sadly for Orson, that was not always the case." Orson turns to find Bree standing there, holding the bloody teeth out in her bare hand. Again, I just cannot believe that Bree would be handling those horrors without the benefit of rubber kitchen gloves. And a paper mask. Cleanliness aside, isn't she at all worried about getting her fingerprints on them?
Orson, who I'm beginning to suspect might actually be an idiot, holds one of the teeth up to the light and comments that it all seems a "little fishy." Bree thinks it's beyond fishy: she thinks Alma killed Monique and pulled out all her teeth to implicate the tooth-obsessed Orson, and now she's probably planning to set up Orson to take the fall by planting the teeth on him. Orson -- curious if the teeth make up a "full set" -- spills them out onto their bed, which eeks Bree out, because bloody teeth on the bed is indeed fantastically gross (isn't he supposed to be neat freaky, too?). And then he rolls his hands all over the teeth, which means that his prints are now all over them, too. Bree and Orson hatch a brilliant plan to return the teeth to Alma's house and then call the police on her. They exchange a smug kiss and Bree leaves. Orson picks up the phone and calls mama Gloria, and accuses her of getting up to something "naughty." So if Orson calls Gloria first thing after discovering these teeth, that must mean that he had enough pre-knowledge about their existence to link them to Gloria. Which means that either Gloria pulled the teeth herself and told Orson all about it, or he was the one who did the pulling and Gloria stole the teeth and gave them to Alma. Or I guess there could be some third party who pulled out the teeth, someone that Orson associates with Gloria. And don't forget Mike has to be wrapped up in all this, too, otherwise why else would Orson try to speed-bump him with his car? And then there's that unexplained woman whom Orson visits in the insane asylum (and how weird that Bree hasn't asked about her before now). It sure is a snarled mess of questions, too many questions, maybe? It's all so convoluted that my brain just wants to step out for a hamburger. I keep losing track of the main mystery, which I guess is just, "Who killed Monique?" And that seems like a bad sign. Shouldn't that central question be at the forefront of my mind at all times? Shouldn't I be tossing and turning at night, wondering whodunit? Maybe it's just me, maybe I'm the only one who no longer much cares about all this. Or maybe this is just the mid-season blahs. All I know is that I'm feeling pretty disengaged these days.