And now Susan? Starts making small talk! Ugh. Susan: "So, what have you been doing lately?" Mike brushes her off with "Just the usual." Susan: "Well, I'm writing a book." Oh god. "It's sort of autobiographical. It's really been forcing me to examine some of the different things that have made me me." Mike rolls his eyes, and I'm totally with him. Susan drools out some more ham-fisted backgrounding about how her mom had Susan so young, that Susan never knew her dad, et cetera: "I told you about my dad, right?" Mike looks like he could hardly give less of a shit, even if someone were offering him a cash incentive. (Ditto!) Susan continues on about her dad (Why? Why?): "He was a merchant marine, and his platoon was killed in the Battle of Hanoi." Mike says that's strange, because "Hanoi was in enemy territory and there wasn't a battle there." Susan asks Mike if he's sure, because her (flighty, idiotic) mother told her so. Mike tells her he's pretty sure. Also: "The merchant marines don't fight, they deliver supplies on ships." Susan laughs and says that she clearly has more research to do. And then, and you're not going to believe this but...Susan keeps talking: "So, what do you think? My life story -- would you rush out and buy a copy?" Mike tells Susan that she "really needs to step back," and then he throws down another shipment of gutter guck. And finally, finally, finally Susan walks away. What an insanely forced and awkward scene. Was there really no other way to introduce the heretofore unheard-of topic of Susan's missing dad?
Nighttime. Lynette drives up and finds the P-twins out in front of the house, tossing a football in the full glare of Mrs. McCluskey's anti-intruder lights. Lynette jumps out of the car and immediately starts nagging the boys for playing outside after dark. One of the Ps points out that it's not actually dark, given the stadium lighting. Mrs. McCluskey comes out and calls to Lynette not to worry; she's been watching over the boys: "They keep setting off my motion sensors. I ought to send you half my electric bill." Lynette yells, "You do that!" and then hustles the boys onto the sidewalk and stomps into the house, telling the boys to stay where they are. Once inside, she beckons Mr. Mom Tom over to the window for a prime view of the boys. Tom: "Damn, they must have snuck out again," which clearly isn't what Lynette wanted to hear. Lynette: "Again? How often does this happen?" Tom opens the front door and screams at the boys to come inside, and then says to Lynette, "You know how slippery they are; it's like trying to herd cats." Lynette chastises Tom that it's 9 at night, as Tom scoots the boys upstairs for "pajamas and bed." Tom tells Lynette that the boys are fine, and that she worries too much. Lynette, stridently: "And for good reason!" Tom says that they were right out front, and that when he was a kid, he used to disappear for hours on his bike. Lynette says that these days are different, and that parents need to be more vigilant (this from the woman who left her kids by the side of the road); they need to have eyes in the back of their heads, etc. Tom insists that his two eyes in the front of his head are just fine. Lynette: "Oh really? Where's Penny?" Tom does a comedic scramble, looking left than right, until he spots her lying behind a cushion on the couch. Tom, not at all convincingly: "See? Right where I left her."