Down at the Chairless Whisper, Tom walks in, still groggy from his Bad Idea Pills, and is not at all pleased with the sight that greets him -- the bohemian rhapsody of chairs Lynette has cobbled together. He guilt-bombs her with a silent, icy stare, and she looks stricken, though maybe it's just that she's finally noticed the décor. Holy wow is there some bad, weird art in that place. One painting features crowds of semi-clothed men tumbling from the sky, and another has Victorian ladies dancing with fans, also in the sky. And the paintings are huge -- like, six feet tall -- and cut out into weird shapes. And I believe they've also been edged in bright blue neon? Wow. Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the Scavo Crap-eteria!
Down at Casa Van De Have A Nice Trip, See You Next Fall, Danielle, pouting and sporting an unfathomable head of Ed Grimley hair, is pitching a fit all over Andrew: she doesn't want to babysit Bree (who's now home from the hospital), stomp, stomp! Unfortunately, as we established earlier (yay, continuity!), Andrew has to work at the Scavoria tonight, so it's up to Danielle to stay with Bree. Even though all her friends are going to be at the opening (stomp!), and Austin has promised to slip Danielle some beer (stomp, stomp, STOMP!). Andrew screeches off in the family luxury vehicle, and Danielle screams after him, "I liked you better when you were a psychopath!" Gloria, who's standing across the street and looking incredibly shifty, witnesses the whole thing.
Scavoria Grand Opening. The joint is hopping, and the pizza is looking not at all bad (that said, I've eaten nothing but cupcakes in the last twenty-four hours, so pretty much any relatively grown-up food looks good to me). Gabby is at the bar, buying a half carafe of the hair of dog, but before she has time to snap open her purse, Zana is there to foot the bill. Zana's hair, it should be noted, looks resplendently nuts, with artful curls flipping up everywhere like he spent the morning in hot curlers. Hey Zana? Rachel from Friends called, and even she thinks you your hair is stuck in second gear. And it isn't its day, or week, or month, or even its year. Gabby seems poised to give Zana the heave-ho, emphasis on "heave," when canny Zana plays the dead mom card. "This is really the first time that I've been happy," he gushes, "since my mother killed herself!" Gabby, who usually has no problem being heartless with motherless children, for some reason is floored by this strategy. She giggles and excuses herself. Zana dives in for a parting kiss, and she limbos out of his arms. Bleh, this wretched storyline can't really end soon enough for me.