Gabby wakes up after a long, uncomfortable night on her and Carlos's ridiculously small couch. MAVO: "Nine months of long nights on the couch loomed before Gabrielle." And yet, didn't Carlos say that today they would go buy a nice, new bed? MAVO, continued: "And she had decided that she would not take it lying down." Gabby gets a pesticide pump from...the garden shed? Let's say? And she fills it with all her many tinctures and fumes. It is what the high school kids called a "suicide" (only our concoctions more typically were comprised of a half-inch of everything in the parents' liquor cabinet). Slowly and methodically, Gabby sprays down the bed, walls, drapes, chairs, and carpet of the master bedroom with her Money-be-gone concoction. MAVO: "[Gabby] dipped into her supply of forbidden perfumes, determined that in this battle, she would be the one to come out smelling like a rose." After effectively pee-marking her entire room, Gabby heads off with a jaunty, accomplished spring in he step. In the hallway, she crosses paths with Money, who tells Gabby that she's just going to take a little nap in the bedroom. Gabby: "Sure, knock yourself out." Money heads inside -- beat, beat -- then she comes barreling, tripping, stumbling out into the hall again, her mouth poised for a full barf attack. Gabby smiles an evil, evil smile.
Tom comes home and finds himself greeted by an ominously empty house. He heads over to Mrs. McCluskey's, and sees the old woman out in front, clipping her hedges with a gigantic pair of clippers. He politely asks whether she knows where Lynette is, and Mrs. McC grimly informs him that Lynette now knows all about "the other woman," and she took the kids and the puppy, and left: "Boy, you're just lucky you're not my husband." And then she lustily takes her HUGE clippers and snaps them shut in a very provocative way. Hm, it seems like leaving the whole kids+puppy circus behind for cheating (?) Tom to deal with would have been more of a punishment? But yeah, maybe he's attached to those kids, or something, whatever? Grumble, parent's love, blah-blah?
Edie is at the hospital, and she is not looking so great. I'd say the makeup artists from the Halloween-hideous pregnant witch incident have been at it again: her lips offer a new, disturbing twist on the "bee-stung" ideal, what with the redness and the scabs, like she's been sucking on an entirely different flavor of popsicle, maybe one made of battery acid. Meanwhile, the left half of her face just looks bruised, but the right half is swollen and misshapen into a fright-mask of a look that is not at all unlike Dumb Donald from The Fat Albert Gang -- only, whoops, she isn't wearing a knit cap over her eye; that's actually just her grotesquely swollen flesh. And her neck, arms, and body are pure Mama Grape. It isn't really her hottest look; in fact it's difficult to even look directly at her (I found taking periodic breaks to bury your head deep into a couch cushion helps to ease the strain). Susan (who appears to be wearing some kind of Tickle-Me Elmo pelt) stops by for a visit. With kindness and even bigness of character, she offers not to give Edie's taped confession to the police. All Edie has to do is tell the police people that she saw someone -- a hobo, maybe -- set fire to Susan's house: "And then the insurance company will pay the claim, nobody gets hurt...how does that sound?" Edie, bitterly: "Take your stinking deal and shove it." Wow. Edie then tirades that Susan's responsible for all the terrible, awful things that have happened to Edie (which is pretty much true): "No more pretending to be friends. When I get out of here, I'm going to destroy you!" And coming from Edie's monster hole of a face, it's a scary, scary threat. Unsinkable Susan says that clearly it's "the meds talking," and she offers to come back tomorrow. Edie: "Don't bother!" Susan: "Okay, Edie? I'm in trouble here." Edie: "Oh, I'm sure you'll turn on the waterworks, and the whole neighborhood will come running. They always do." Susan denies it, but Honest Edie tells Susan that she never does miss "an opportunity to play the victim." Full of disgust,she adds: "And you think just because everybody always comes to your rescue, it means that you're loved. Well it doesn't. It means that you're helpless." Susan is perturbed.