...the legs of a man, walking up to Susan's house. She opens her front door and, without our knowing who's arrived on her doorstep, asks, "How was the game?" The camera switches to reveal Ian, who smugly says, "I won." Oh man, so incredibly dumb. Also: wasn't Ian not even supposed to know how to play poker? Are we supposed to believe he won Mike's eternal silence thanks to nothing more than a stinking case of beginner's luck?
Tom pulls up next to Lynette, who's limping down a deserted country road. He rolls down the window and sputters a litany of apologies. Lynette, too cold to speak, simply throws her bouquet of roses into his face.
Later, Lynette and Tom walk into a roadside diner, and Lynette throws her strappy silver shoes down on the counter. Man, she really looks as though she's at the end of her rope. Tom starts in with the apologizing again, and Lynette shushes him. Tom switches tactics: "Wait till the kids find out that you saw a real coyote!" Ha! Lynette glares at him. Tom gives up. "No more surprises," he tells her, defeated. "From now on, I'll do exactly what you say." Lynette, moaning: "Don't. You. Dare." She tearfully admits that Tom was right all along -- that no matter how tired they get, they have to "keep the romance going." Tom: "So you want me to surprise you next year?" Lynette, sighing and crying: "Knock yourself out." Tom, the beginnings of a smiling playing about his lips: "Just wait! Because I will think of something even better." That was actually kind of funny, and sweet, and I even pinched off a wee tear. When these two are on, and they're given the right material, they really, really soar. And stick the landing. And wave at the judges oh-so-winningly. Their mugs of coffee arrive, and Tom and Lynette toast. "Nine years," Lynette cries, "and I have loved every minute of it." Tom quietly agrees. Interestingly enough (by which I mean not at all interesting), the ninth anniversary is the year you're supposed to exchange gifts made of pottery (I checked...I really, really did), so their little mug clink is actually quite fitting. (Please help me. I'm trapped inside this inane paragraph and can't get out.)
And...bring it on home, Rex! As Lynette and Tom pull into their driveway, Rex narrates about the kinds of sad sacks men there are to be found in suburbia. There's the (random) guy, walking his dog and thinking to himself, "Aw crap, my dreams are never going to come true." Then we see Orson put Danielle into the car, and (still according to Rex) think, "I'm never going to have a life free from scandal." Carlos sits, holding a basketball, and thinks, "I'll never have a son of my own." Austin, sitting on his bike, stares off into space and thinks, "I'll never hold [Julie] in my arms again." Then he screeches off on his bad, bad motorcycle. Mike, standing across from Susan's house, thinks, "I'll never get to tell her how I feel." Idiot.