Previously on Desperate Housewives: Mike and Ian shoved Susan into the pot in a friendly game of neighborhood poker, plus the stuff from last week: Mike kissed Susan, and Mrs. McC keeps a frozen husband in her basement...or as MAVO sums it, she "revealed her secret for a [ironic mini-pause] lasting relationship!"
It's late Tuesday night, MAVO tells us, when the power goes out "all over Fairview." No idea why, either. No storm, no clumsy grid operator spilling a grande soy latte on the bank of electrics back at HQ, no more-than-meets-the-eye transformer accident. Just the Hand Of God, reaching down into the dollhouse of Wisteria Lane and setting the wheels of mischief into motion, I guess! Lucky, lucky thing, too: as see-all MAVO tells us, "For those with secrets, the darkness proved quite useful indeed." For instance, Fairview's "Milly Russell," an overweight woman who can now, thanks to the gift of darkness, "indulge in another night of midnight binging." I'm not entirely sure how the power outage specifically enables this to happen? As indicated by Mary Alice's "another" modifier, Milly also snacks when the lights are fully operational, so what's the big dif? MAVO continues: "Timmy Cooper was able to sneak another peek at his father's adult magazines." Without benefit of flashlight, said Timmy unfurls a centerfold and gapes appreciatively. And again I nit-ponder how, exactly, the power outage greased the wheels here? If Timmy's night vision is this innately good, he could make his way downstairs and visit with Miss Monthly every night of the year, power outage or no. (Though, I don't know, maybe having his parents reduced to candlelight does make it easier for him to sneak around?) MAVO moves on to someone named "Marilyn Quinn," who has the blackout to thank for being able to "steal a few more puffs" of her "forbidden tobacco." Marilyn nervously grinds her cigarette out on the sidewalk out in front of her house and then sprays around a huge can of air spray. Tip to Marilyn: feel free to pointlessly Glade-er-ate the wide, wide open night air, but it isn't going to cover the smell of coffin nails on your breath, nor will it remove the irrefutable evidence of the nasty butt you just left out on the impossibly pristine sidewalk of Wisteria Lane, probably a picketable offense in that town (right up there with pedophilia).