Meanwhile, Mrs. McCluskey is on the phone with Ida. It's a mobile phone, which by rights shouldn't work sans electricity, though I suppose if anyone had a battery-backed-up phone base, it would be old-school Mrs. McC. She opens the freezer in her basement, which is not only the final resting spot of her once-husband Gilbert, but also where she stores her spare batteries (the reason for Ida's call). Mrs. McC casually asks Ida if she has any ice "laying [sic] around," because she's got some "stuff" in her freezer that she "doesn't want thawed out anytime soon." And now a tip for Mrs. McC, or really anyone planning on storing a frozen body for any length of time: invest in a generator. It'll give you peace of mind, and it'll keep the suspicious stench of decomposing flesh from drawing unwanted attention from the neighbors. Or/and move upwind of a slaughterhouse. Or, you know what? Just do what all the other Lakeview murderers do: remove all the identifiables (teeth, fingerprints) and bury it down at the club. Or chop up the body and drop it in the lake. Though maybe skip the part with the totally traceable artisanal toy box -- that's a dead giveaway.
As Mrs. McC climbs the stairs leading up from her basement, the Hand Of God fritzes off the battery-operated lantern that she's carrying, causing her to slip and tumble down, down, down the stairs. You know, they should just go ahead and change the name of this town to Fairview Falls, what with the epidemic number of spills, headers, plunges, plummets, and nose dives that we've witnessed in just the past three years. Mrs. McC reaches the end of her great fall, and the helpful H.O.G. switches the fickle lantern back to life so we can all see that she's sprawled out on the floor, unconscious, with the phone lying next to her and squawking out worried Ida sounds.
We return to the still-dark Wisteria Lane to find Susan, scrabbling around her kitchen drawers in search of light-producing products. When she stabs her finger on a thumbtack, Ian suggests that they go over to Mike's house to borrow a flashlight, reasoning that a plumber is sure to have plenty of extras. Ian, who spent all of last week frantically trying to get as far away as possible from Mike, is now in a fever to hang out with the man, hoping to prove to Susan that -- as promised -- he's now totally, totally over the jealousy thing. Susan, on the other hand, would prefer to avoid all mention of the man with whom she so recently swapped spit. Ian doggedly suggests they invite Mike over for dinner this coming weekend. You know, as a thanks for saving them from drowning in the kiddie-pool-sized pond? (What, the juicer Susan gave Mike isn't a big enough of a thank-you?) Susan: "You've tasted my cooking. It's not a thank-you, it's revenge." Ian offers to cook, arguing that "breaking bread" with Mike is a sure-fire way to put the pesky envy issues behind them. To distract Ian from going over to Mike's this very instant to issue his invite, Susan gropes Ian amorously. Clueless Ian interrupts their tongue session to muse, "It's funny, all that time I wasted worrying Mike would come between us, it seems laughable now, doesn't it?" Susan, after a pregger pause: "Kiss me!"