The big kids are down on a planet bazaar, looking for medicine for poor Rygel, who's got the Klendian Flu, and as you can imagine, he's being a stand-up guy about it. John meets a little puppetry magic in the form of a two-headed trelkez bird-thing: "Hey, little guy. Aeryn, check this out! One critter, two-part harmony." It looks like a fantastic Japanese beast I had when I was a kid. Yellow. Aeryn says it has too few heads: "The more heads, the better value they are. Their brains are the tastiest part." John looks at the adorable critter: "Like you'd cook this guy and eat his brains." Never! "Raw." Think that's cruel?
Zhaan and D'Argo hang out in the corner, where D'Argo laments jokingly that Rygel's flu isn't fatal. Zhaan laughs. Think that's cruel? "Zhaan, I'm suffering here." A purple version of the people from Planet Shroomadelic, although more attractive and wearing cooler clothes, comes slithering out of somewhere with an apple in one hand and a crackpipe in the other. "Your pardon? I sell jikset root...among other interesting things..." Zhaan says he must be a "gift from the Goddess." The Goddess of Jerkwads, maybe. Goddess of Bad Boyfriends and Even Worse Ideas. Stop throwing those fucking words around if you still don't know what they mean.
Two short paragraphs in and we've already dropped an F-Bomb on my girl Blue. Probably a record. John's walking through the bazaar, having been left to his own devices -- smooth move, there, the three people who know a thing or two about a thing or two -- and this stupid clown named Igg comes running out with a syringe in one hand and a copy of X-Men III in the other, and the first thing he does is call attention to John's (ahem) huge feet. "You want a hand with your problem, help's right here and his name is Haloth." John snorts that his problems are probably out of the guy's league and starts away. Oh right, when I said "clown" I didn't mean it pejoratively, like the guy's a douchebag (though he is) -- I mean like he's parti-colored and pantalooned. Like maybe next time he'll be a hideous stained-glass painting, maybe. He is fractured and he fractures. And every piece of color is a different flavor of pain. Watch:
"Oh, incorrect. Haloth can fix up your crummy life, John Crichton." Which stops John in his tracks so effectively that Igg easily steers him into a deserted alley. "First, you're dying to get home to Earth; second, there's a Peacekeeping cruiser hunting you; third...you're not interested, are you? Oh, well. Sorry to bother you." John calls bullshit and says the clown must have heard Zhaan or D'Argo or the credits mapping out John's entire life story. Somehow. Igg: "How could I have overhead this? Your mother's maiden name was McDougall. You skipped third grade. And you lost your virginity to Karen Shaw in the back of a minivan." It wasn't a minivan, it was a four-by. I know this part by heart. Karen Shaw is the most direct shot of grace this show ever had, and proves the existence of God in the Farscape universe, because only a loving and omnipotent -- and seriously warped -- creator could come up with Karen Shaw. Heaven for everybody. "John-John, you're grasping at straws, John. Look, what's wrong with listening to the pitch? You don't like the product, you don't have to buy it. Last chance, Johnny-o. You want to meet Haloth, walk this way. If not, hit the bricks." Um, okay, you kid. Twenty-three skidoo! Instead of pardoning somebody for a hamburger, John...walks right into it and there's red smoke and then he's in a stupid place with lots of walls that don't go anywhere and some weird statues, and Igg is Haloth: weird something on his head, gray hair and icky-looking beard, clothes like The Dark Crystal, all black and silver and red and gray and cringing. But how? And for why? "The words I need elude translation's grasp. Suffice to say, I simply wished you here." If wishes were horses, he'd do something fucked-up with those too. Credits, during which we wish Igg, Haloth (and Kyvan) and Maldis far, far away.