Val takes a five-minute-long toke off a hookah while he plays with Fiona's feet. It's boring like you think. They're in this harem room place with a million pillows and candles, of course. Val Kilmer has strange old man thighs, I can see them clearly through his sherpa costume. Eric sucks tinily on the hookah and everybody watches how much Val can suck. It's a lot. There's some stupid fucking high pot talk about dimensions we can't even see and stuff like that and they think he's so tough and awesome? Except Turtle, who's awesome, because he's like, "That's so cool, but can I have some pot, though? Thanks." And then there's more pot talk -- rhyming now! -- that you don't even need to know about. Just make up whatever. Imagine if there was a TV show and all these assholes did pot and weren't even that smart to begin with. What you're thinking? Is automatically better than this scene. They laugh at Val Kilmer making an ass of himself.

Not the sherpa. Val Kilmer.

Eric's phone rings, and I think maybe Marky Mark is confused because this scene is now from Boogie Nights. Marky? That never happened, it was just a movie. Your penis is just fine the way it is. Val Kilmer screams his weird old man ass off and pulls a gun on Eric and out of nowhere this Rasta dude with a red-yellow-and-green crocheted hat jumps out of some box labeled "retarded stereotypes" and there are guns everywhere and everyone's kind of startled and scared. Then Val backs down and sends the other dude back in the RS box, and he's all, "It's cool, it's just a cell phone." Like what the fuck did he think it was? Seriously. Some kind of beeping bomb in Eric's pants that shoots out search warrants and tiny cops that get big when you put them in water? They laugh forever. Adrenaline. And pot.

On the phone is Ari, of course, and he has the tanning booth things over his eyes so it's twice as funny when he says, "Call me Helen Keller because I'm a fucking miracle worker," which is almost literate, almost correct, almost worth getting paid as a writer and contributing member of society. Call me "Annie Sullivan" I guess, because I'm a fucking bitter writer who also happens to be blind and deaf. Anyway, Ari set up dinner with Scott Wick, his best friend and the producer of Queens Boulevard. "And tell Vince to wear something tight," he says, because Scott Wick is -- the inference is, I guess, that even though Scott Wick lives in L.A.? He also sort of lives on Queens Boulevard, if you get my meaning. So he should fit right in with this crowd. What I UTTERLY LOVE about this is that Ari and Wick are "best friends." And he's still like, "My best friend Scott Wick is a flaming homo," which is either totally surprising or not at all, considering Ari's sexual baggage, because I can see him being all, "I'm not out to prove anything. My best friend is Scott Wick!" And anyway, not only that, but he's like, "Here's how you defeat his queer powers and make him bow down to your will!" Ari Gold, ladies and gentleman. World's Worst Best Friend. Because this will not end well. I guess if Scott Wick disappeared for no reason like Chipette did, it would be okay. But I think the writers like the character too much -- I know I did, in the end -- so he'll probably end up dead by his own hand or something stupid. Then we go back to the episode and everything that already happened? Happens again. Vince's like, fuck that movie I don't want to work with Scott Wick that doesn't like me -- just like he did to Shauna! And Eric says there are no other good scripts so he needs to do this and Vince ignores him -- just like he did to Eric before! And Fiona tells Vince that to know him is to love him, and convinces him with a word or two to go through with the meeting -- just like she did before! And Eric gets pissed -- again! Fuck this fucking show.