Lynette stares at Bree, and then she goes for it: "Look, I apologize in advance for how this is going to sound, but I have to ask or it's just going to eat away at me. Were you drinking while babysitting my kids?" You can tell Lynette isn't happy to be asking. Bree gasps out a "No!," but Lynette keeps staring at her. Bree finally breaks with Lynette's gaze, and then she puts her hands on her hips and gives a horrible impression of someone just remembering something: "You know, I may have had just the tiniest little bit of chardonnay." Lynette covers her eyes with her hands and, in a tired voice, spells it out: "You got drunk! And you passed out!" Bree talks up the antihistamine angle again. Lynette, who's clearly had enough: "Really? Is that why you passed out on your front lawn yesterday morning?" Bree stands up straighter and starts lecturing Lynette that she was doing her a "favor." Lynette: "You put my kids in danger and then you lied about it. Do you not get how big that is? Do you have some kind of problem with alcohol?" Bree totally flies off the handle at that, her voice going all high and screechy: "The only problem I have is with your children! They're incorrigible because you let them run amok, and if I hadn't drifted off, they would have waited until I was in the bathroom or stuck on the phone or upstairs doing laundry." But...isn't their laundry room downstairs? Bree goes to stalk off inside her house, but Lynette says to her in a small, tired voice, "On any given day, how many glasses of wine do you put away?" Bree turns and stares and stares at Lynette, and finally tells her she "won't be spoken to this way," and goes inside. The jig, it seems, is up! Ugh, poor Bree -- all in all, this hasn't really been her best year. Lynette stands there for a second, and then heads over to Bree's trash and starts digging around. One by one, she starts pulling out the empties. I'm not sure what's more shocking: the number of bottles, or the fact that Bree doesn't recycle.
MAVO: "Now and then, we all need a little help. So we ask for small favors." Susan and Karl are exchanging their vows down at the courthouse. Susan thanks him. MAVO: "But it's always best to be wary of those who are eager to come to our rescue." The judge sort of creepily tells Karl, "Go on, kiss the bride." Susan smiles and Karl laughs, and they kiss. MAVO: "Because even the smallest of favors carries a price tag." Mrs. McCluskey tells Tom (again) that she'd totally willing to babysit, and then she turns and looks at her roof and muses, "My, have you noticed how clogged my rain gutters are?" Hint, hint! MAVO: "Yes, everyone has an agenda, no matter what they may tell us." The bellhop is clearing out Hot Mom's bags while she's on the phone talking to a sick auntie, whom she's rushing off to go stay with while she recovers from an operation. "And I'm prepared," Hot Mom tells Auntie somewhat sinisterly, "to stay as long as it takes." MAVO: "And in those rare instances when there is no ulterior motive, we're so taken aback that we may fail to recognize the truth." Bree opens her front door to find a row of twelve -- count 'em, twelve -- dead soldiers lined up on her stoop. Lynette's left a rolled-up note in one that reads, "Do you still think you don't have a problem?" Bree stands there, looking like she's just been slapped, and then looks across the street at Lynette, who's out in front of her house, picking up toys. They stare at each other a long, long while, and then Lynette gives the slightest hint of a smile (a smirk, maybe), and turns away. MAVO: "That a loving friend has just done us an enormous favor." Bree crumples up the note and swallows nervously.