Tom, in the world's laziest old-west sheriff costume (see, that's what I'm talking about), comes out into the yard to find Lynette lying in wait with her new air rifle, using the kids' treehouse as a possum stand. Tom tries to talk her down, but he quickly and wisely backs down when Lynette whaps him upside the head with a thematic anvil. Specifically, one that's all about how possums are really cancer. Who are any of us to judge, right? "Do what you need to do," Tom says, probably wishing those shooting irons in his holster were real right about now. Rather than sticking around and getting his ass shot, he goes off to the party alone.

Where Danielle is still holding forth as Bree. Bree is just about ready to drag Danielle out of there, and Danielle is calling Bree's bluff, and then Danielle's water breaks on Bob's rug. Bree makes a lame excuse, then rounds up Andrew and Orson to get Danielle out of there and back to the house. They don't think there's time to get to the hospital, because labor on TV always lasts less than one episode. Like all those women we know who claim to have taken forty-two hours to give birth really sneaked off to a spa or something. Orson is ready to try delivering the baby himself, but Bree points out that Orson is a dentist -- and, she now realizes, drunk. "There was punch in that rum?" he asks. So Bree dashes back to the party to ask Adam ask for his help. As she drags him out by his giant costume hand, she swears him to secrecy. "Does this have anything to do with the pregnancy you've been faking?" he asks. Heh.

So then Adam and everyone else are still in full costume at Bree's house when the baby comes. Even Orson and Andrew are still wearing their wigs. Out front, The trick-or-treating Scavo kids are disappointed at not getting an answer at the front door, so when they go around back to look in a window, they of course see a giant, green-faced Frankenstein's monster holding up a gross, slimy, naked, four-month-old baby boy, and freak out, running into the street screaming. Like those little beasties wouldn't have whipped out their camera phones.