Gabrielle comes over to see Miguel. He tells her that he has awesome news: "I broke it off with Danielle. Passed her a note in French class." I wonder what it said. "Ma pauvre Danielle: L'amour? C'est fini!" So, now Gabrielle and Miguel can hook up! Woo! Gabrielle is less than thrilled, and tells the poor kid that Susan saw Gabrielle's foot getting friendly with Miguel's...you know, stuff, and that Susan knows everything. Miguel's sweet little face falls.
KimberBree comes into her front yard loaded down with a bag of fertilizer. She looks up and sees Andrew leaning out his bedroom window. They look at each other. He sort of waves. As she comes inside the house, he hustles to hide his stash of weed. KimberBree knocks on his bedroom door. Hey, when'd he get that back? I thought he was going to be door-free for three months. At any rate, Andrew opens it and conducts a hilariously stoned conversation with his mother, all smiling and spacey. KimberBree opens by wondering if he's been spending any time reflecting on the horrible things he's done. "Yeah, I totally get how, like, my actions effect, like, everything else," Andrew drawls. KimberBree is all, "Really?" and Andrew goes off on this tangent about doing things...and how they're cool...and then things are all balanced...and, like, smooth....you know? KimberBree finally smells the weed and asks him sharply if he's been smoking marijuana. Andrew denies it, but KimberBree gets all up in his grill and pulls his eyelids up like a horse. "You are totally strung out!" she squeals.
KimberBree storms downstairs and -- in a brilliant visual -- looks into her meticulously organized (by both color and size) Tupperware cabinet. She reaches in and gets a small salad dressing container and storms back upstairs, where she hands it to Andrew. "What's that?" he grins dopily. "It's the container you'll be urinating into," she says sharply, and grabs him by the ear and drags him off, presumably to the bathroom.
Meanwhile, over at Casa Suicide, Paul stands over the kitchen sick and scrubs at his bloody jeans with a brush. YOU ARE SO DUMB, PAUL. Those are never going to get clean and you are getting DNA everywhere. You brought the murder victim's blood into your own kitchen sink. Everyone knows you burn the clothes you wore when you committed murder! JESUS. Anyway, that blood is a bitch to get out, obviously, so Paul kind of gives up and just shoves the clothes in a trash bag. Good plan, Retardo Montalban. Just put them in the trash. No one will notice that. He's taking them out to the garbage when Dr. Sicker shows up and is all, "Well, I sorta don't know how this happened or anything, but Zack is kinda missing. Sorry!" Paul's actual response is, "It's been one of those days." Sure: ineptly bury ineptly murdered neighbor, learn that wrongly incarcerated son has escaped mental institution. Sounds just like my average Tuesday!