Just then, a young (<--CLUE + PUN CLUE) flower delivery guy with more (CLUE -->) unrealistically bushy facial hair than Zach (<-- CLUE) Galifiniakis brings a bouquet of roses from "Anonymous" to the front door. The gals are discussing Lynette's role as (CLUE -->) Dana Whitaker on Sports Night in the kitchen, where Bree runs to get her purse, leaving the flower guy alone in the parlor for a sec. She gives him his tip, and he thanks her politely and leaves. Gabbeé croaks, "Was it the Pope?" because she hates good deeds. Ever since she touched Mrs. Humphries, she just doesn't like 'em.
Beth shows up in what is actually a fairly cute pink minidress, and Bree steers her onto a parlor chair between herself and Renee, while the other bitches all line up on a parlor sofa and hiss and spit and throw things at her while she tells more and more banal stories, drowning in desperation and no social skills. But I'm so fucking sure, with these guys. Oh Lynette, tell that fascinating story about the time your mom made a frittata. Oh Susan, do light up this shindig with your sparkling repartee! Oh Renee, make some jokes about blowjobs! Perhaps Bree can tell us about waking up on her lawn one more time.
Anyway, Bree ain't having it, so she shoves all four of them into the kitchen, leaving Renee to torture Beth about her hair for a second before screaming for her as well. She reams the ladies out something fierce, Susan makes a dumb joke, and then Bree points out that the last time a wife of Paul Young's was lonely and in serious pain, they all ignored it. So the question is: Do they want Beth to end up like Mary Alice? Um, that would never happen because Beth is cool and Mary Alice is a jive sucka, but still.
Workin' that guilt like a freight train as usual, and it's beautiful to behold. "You know, Mary Alice once told me she wished that your magnolia didn't peek out quite so far over my property line, it really distressed her towards the end," or she could ask, "Don't you think maybe somebody forgot to return Mary Alice's Le Creuset after a potluck brunch?" or, "That's funny, my old dear friend Mary Alice was once pressured into choosing Sloppy Joes over coq au vin... The night she shot herself in the head. I always wondered if that had something to do with... Well, never mind. The past is the past, I suppose! Pass the, uh, 'slop,' if you please."