Previously on Desperate Housewives: last week's many stirring revelations (Art's still a potential pedophile, Gabby is a hero among little Snowflakes, and Mike's an idiot robot), plus Orson murdered a parrot and maybe his wife.
We open on a panoramic shot of Blood Drive Park, which is getting decked with some serious fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la: gigantor candy canes, shiny ornaments, the majestic North Pole. There is no actual snow to be seen, this, after all, being the Eagle State. MAVO gushes that what we're seeing here is the bustle and hustle for the annual holiday block party, a big Wisteria Lane tradition to which "everyone's invited." Bree sits at home stuffing invitations, and angel Andrew dutifully walks them out to the mailbox. PervArt open his invite and smile hugely. MAVO: "But as the big night drew near, more than holiday cheer was being spread around." Mrs. McCluskey gossips to Edie about Art being naughty not nice with his swim team, Carlos tells Mike, Austin tells Julie.
Party Time. Everyone's drinking and laughing and making out under the mistletoe when who should roll up but Art, dressed in full-on Santa gear, with his sad sister rolling beside him in her motorized wheelchair. She's got an oxygen tube in her nose, a sad little elf cap strapped to her head, and sad pointy elf shoes on her feet. They both look eager and happy, their faces just shining with excitement. Oh god, this is going to be really, really bad. The whole gossip-primed party greets them by going painfully silent, like even the blaring carols on the sound system mysteriously fade away. Art fills the void with some excruciating "ho, ho, ho"-ing and tries to get the kiddies interested in his "sack of toys," if you know what I mean. All the parents make a big show of restraining their children. Drunken Ida, however, waves hugely at Art and wishes him a "Merry Christmas," but then Mrs. McGossip grabs her arm and viciously whispers the whole story into her ear. Ida's face darkens. Scrooge and his little sad-dog sidekick sister look confused; then Art locks eyes with Lynette, who's standing tall with her Searing Judgment From On High face making a proud showing. Finally, finally -- after I've died one thousand deaths on my couch waiting for this heinous anus of a scene to just end already -- Art and Sis get the gist that they're not wanted, no not at all. (Why on earth did Bree even invite them?) They beat a gruesome, shame-dripping retreat. Ugh, that was so very hard to watch -- in fact, I couldn't stomach it the first time I watched it. I kept my face buried in my hands the whole way through. The poor sister, she seems so nice! Oh, that elf hat just kills me. MAVO: "For Arthur and his sister, it had turned out to be a very silent night." Oh MAVO, that is rich.