The next thing you know, the whole gang is in a fancy restaurant, one of the many bistros in the greater Stuckeyville area. The ladies are chiding Ed and wanting to know when they're all going to get to meet the mysterious Bonnie Hane. Carol, with just a ton of sarcasm dripping off her voice says, "Yeah, Ed, when do we get to meet her?" Ed just grins that "Aw shucks" grin of his that has gotten him through life thus far and declines comment. Mike walks in and excuses himself for being late. He's wearing a "Dukakis in '88" t-shirt and some size 38 pants that are way too big on him. Mike then explains his and Nancy's "five year" rule: if they go five years without using something, then it gets thrown out. In Mike's eyes, he just bought five more years of use out of both his t-shirt and pants. Nancy wants to know why he wants to keep his fat pants. He explains that his metabolism could still go all out of whack at the drop of a hat and he may need those fat pants.
The waiter then announces that the owner of a silver Cougar needs to go to the waitress station because their car alarm is going off. AND the restaurant has run out of milk. Carol announces that she owns a silver Cougar. Ed counters with the fact that he ordered milk. I top them both with a deep groan followed by a few gulps of Maalox.
The gang goes outside to see that Carol's car has been vandalized by a bunch of hoodlums. A gang of rabble-rousers. A group of hooligans. The waiter is telling Ed's posse that he was taking a smoke break when he saw a guy close the door to Carol's car, get in his own car, and leave. If this were a game of Clue, I'd say it was the creepy waiter with a crowbar in Carol Vessey's silver Cougar. Carol frantically searches through all of her belongings to make sure everything's there.
The only thing missing is the $1,800 music box.
Carol whines that she's had that music box since she was eight years old, her grandmother gave it to her, blah blah blah. Her friends try to look like they care, but it's obvious they'd much rather be inside finishing their meals than listening to the aging prom queen whine yet again.
The waiter notices Mike's t-shirt and asks "Dukakis?" Mike says, "Yeah, he was the real deal."
We go to opening credits. I pray a silent prayer that the show kicks it up a notch in the guffaw department and QUICKLY.
Commercials. Hannibal comes to theaters nationwide this Friday. Guess what? I'm not going to see it. I've seen episodes of Sesame Street scarier than Silence of the Lambs and have no interest in plunking down a paycheck to be goaded into two hours of mediocrity once again by a revamping of an already boring story trying to pass itself off as "horror." Give me Jerry Springer any day. Now, THAT my friend, is horror.