Carol runs into Jackass in the hallway, and proceeds to tell him that she didn't appreciate him coming in to her classroom and teaching the kids. Jackass smirks and says, "Well, the students did." Carol asks what is it that she has to do to make Jackass happy -- shoot fireworks out her ass? I'm not sure Jackass wants to see that, but I'll admit, if I saw a hot chick shooting fireworks out her ass, that's one memory I'd carry with me to the grave. Jackass asks her when was the last time she actually read the book around which that her lessons revolved. Carol hem-haws, coughs, sputters, scratches behind her ear with her left foot, sniffs her own ass, and basically pretends she didn't hear the question. Jackass tells her that her own students think she's a joke and have devised a game behind her back to make fun of her. This shocks Carol, who's not used to not being liked. So she sees Warren and confronts him at his locker. "What's the f'n deal with this Bingo game, bitch?" she asks him. Warren laughs nervously and says that he doesn't know what she's talking about. Carol grabs his shoulders, knees him in the groin, and asks him again to spill his guts. A nearby girl tells Warren just to go ahead and tell her before she whips out a pair of scissors and goes all Bobbitt on his ass. Warren tells Carol that Bingo is a game that the students play whenever she uses one of her "Vesseyisms" -- phrases like "go deep" or "copious notes" or "Warren Cheswick is a sex robot." Carol's shocked but satisfied with Warren's answer and calls him a pussboy for folding so quickly before storming away in a patented huff. Warren asks the girl standing there why she told him to spill the beans about Bingo. The girl shrugs, "It builds character," and walks away. Warren mutters, "You suck" as she walks away. News flash, Cheswick...YOU'RE the one on the productive end of a colossal suck job, my friend.
Nancy comes home from wherever the hell she's been all day to find the house spotless. She walks through the house looking for Mike, who's upstairs in a terrycloth robe and painted toenails. She compliments him on a job well done, and he asks her in a fey Southern accent whether she "reckons he could use her shower, ma'am." Mike is obviously into a little kinky role playing in the bedroom as he's currently starring in the plum role of Scarlett O'Hara. He asks her if she'd mind massaging his shoulder, since he's so sore from cleaning out the closet. Nancy stiffens. She runs to the closet, and all of those business suits are now gone. She asks Mike what he did with the clothes. Mike's still acting like a southern gay man; she tells him to can it. He tells her he boxed them up and took them to the church to give to homeless people. Visions of the crazy lady downtown busting the seams on her Donna Karem collection swim through her head as Nancy, for lack of a better term, fucking goes off on Mike. Mike doesn't really see what the problem is, but those of us men at home who have an inkling of common sense can see it a mile away. She simply doesn't want people wearing her clothes and getting their stink juice all over them. I mean...duh, Mike. Duh.