Just then, the doorbell rings. It's Susan! Looking for piano lessons? So she can put her daughter into an uncomfortable position of having to choose between her mother and her dad's girlfriend? Betty listens to Susan's spiel, and rather rudely tells Susan that she doesn't give lessons. Susan looks a little thrown to discover that not all in the universe aligns to her bidding, and peeps out a few disappointed "oh"s. Then she notices that Betty...has...a little...um...suspicious blood-looking matter on her shirt. Betty, by way of excuse: "I'm making cherry pie." And then she abruptly says "Excuse me!" and backs her way into the house, closing the door in Susan's face. By the way, Betty is wearing a very weird shirt here; it's a billowing white cotton thing with a rounded tail at each hip. It looks sort of like she's wearing a grown-up version of an infant's snap-up-the-crotch pajamas, only all unsnapped. It's hard to describe, which just goes to show how very odd the outfit really is. Susan walks away from the house looking confused, and possibly suspicious? Like maybe, just maybe, the bloody shirt and the disturbing sounds coming from the house at all hours of the night add up to...a mystery? Betty, looking dazed, tiptoes back through her debris-strewn kitchen. Matthew, leaning against the basement door with the drained relief of someone who has managed to get a dangerous escaped animal back in its cage, says, "What happened to maintaining a low profile? You keep being rude to everybody, they're going to start whispering about us." As Betty wipes up a splattering of blood off the floor with a sponge, she agrees with Matthew that she really does want to fit in. If she only knew how much time her Wisteria Lane neighbors spend wiping up blood, she'd see how much she fits in already.
Lynette is at work. Receptionist Stu -- who is wearing a huge bandage across his face (what the hell?) -- calls Lynette over to show off the new video conferencing technology they've acquired: "Isn't the resolution fantastic?" An extreme close-up of officemate Kevin's mouth looms large on Stu's monitor. Kevin, who is standing just feet away, is deep-throating the camera. Just the usual wacka-wacka fun found in any creative office environment.
Lynette shakes her head at the nutty boys and dips into Bossy Boobs's office. Lynette: "You know how the first hour of the morning meeting is always so slow? 'Cause I've got this thing..." Bossy Boobs: "Good GOD. This is not about your kids again, is it?" Lynette acknowledges that, yes, she knows she promised (days, weeks ago) that she would never do this, only this is important. It's P's first day of kindergarten! Which, fine, it is kind of a big deal. But if you've just started a job, and you know your boss is rabidly anti-parents- who-shirk-off- work-because- of-their-kids, then either make up a different, better excuse, or save your wishes for a true emergency, which someone with four kids is almost guaranteed to have in her not-so-distant future. But Lynette, usually so devious, tries the truth with Bossy Boobs: Parker is nervous about his first day, he really, really wants Lynette to be there, etc. Boobs interrupts Lynette's cute tale: "How is this my problem?" Lynette: "Because we can't escape the fact that I have kids? I love my job, but to be fair, there's got to be some balance." Which: true? And yet: still irritating. BB brings up all the people in the office who don't have kids: "Do you ever consider that they might want a little more balance in their lives? Like maybe they...want to go see a matinee, or perhaps they want to come in a little late after a crazy night out. Or maybe they just want to get a haircut, which I myself have not been able to do for two months." As it has been pointed out on the boards, rather exhaustively, BB does have a point, but she might have carried a bigger stick if she'd used better examples of the kinds of things non-parents need the time for. A sick relative, perhaps, or a troubled relationship? Volunteer work? Anything besides a "matinee." Nina: "So no. This is about fairness to the people who are childless by choice. Okay?" Lynette agrees, looking startled at having unleashed such a torrent of vitriol, and heads for the door. But Lynette recovers in time to deliver this parting line: "And I'm sorry about your hair. I can see why you're upset." Zing! BB, halfway to her coffee mug, stops and juts her jaw to the side, like "WHAT did that baby machine just say to me?" Bandaged Stu is in the hallway, and he lurches over to Lynette and tries to shove the conference camera in her mouth. "Open wide!" he yells. Is he drunk? Lynette goes to brush him off, but then...wait a minute! Lynette takes a closer look at the camera.