And what do you think happens next? If you guessed, "Oh, I don't know, Brad and Lynne have a scene where Brad tries to get Lynne to look just like Kim and she puts on this red wig and they make out and Kevin sees the scene and gets really pissed at Rob for using his idea and then taking credit for it," well, then you'd be right on the money.
After the scene's over, Clueless is totally pissed that he's still kissing Marcy after all these years. He'd thought that with Kim dying and all, he'd get a chance to lock lips with someone else for a change. "Come on, man!" Johnny attacks Rob. "Can't you come up with something new?" "This storyline is in fact inspired by one of my all-time favorite movies: Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo." Johnny, whose film-watching repertoire includes the entire Rambo series and anything with lots of gratuitous nudity, doesn't know what the hell he's talking about, and storms off. Kev, who's been standing nearby, just looks at Rob in disbelief. "Huh," says Rob. "It's no wonder Hitch called 'em sheep. Hey Kev, grab me a cappuccino, will ya?" It would appear that besides running around like an idiot and actor-wrangling, a major part of Kevin's job is to keep food and beverages constantly streaming into Rob's mouth. Kevin runs into Dave on the way to the cappuccino and says, "I can't believe Rob had the audacity to take credit for my Vertigo idea." "Good Lord, dude," says Dave. "Writers are like bloodsuckers." Then he walks away as Kev says, "Right on. And I just gave a pint." The hell? Dave says "Good Lord"? Since when the hell would he say something like that? Maybe this isn't really Dave at all. Maybe it's a pod person, here to infiltrate the human race with its alien seed. Maybe I should stop drinking all this Coke, I think it's making me crazy.
Kev gets a phone call from Quentin, which interrupts his Rob Rage. Hairless informs Kev that he and Coco, who's sitting beside him in his Rover, will be there in approximately twenty minutes. Kev tells him to hurry up. Hairless responds that everyone should chill because they had a mall to open, and that takes time. "Lotta fans to meet. Lotta boobies to sign." Coco rolls her eyes at him as Q ends the call. "I told you we'd be late! Why'd you have to try on all those Gap tees?" she shouts at him. "No two larges are alike," Q responds. Word. It's a well-known fact that you can gather up eight pairs of Gap pants, all the same size, lock yourself into the dressing room, and not find a single pair that fits properly, let alone two pairs that actually fit the SAME. During one particular Gap shopping experience, the sizes in my dressing room ranged from small to extra-large for the t-shirts and from six to nine in the pants. I'm a six, people. I have been a six for about a year. Try telling that to the Gap. Goddamn fleece-wearing, khaki-sporting, "Hi, how are you?"-spouting-as-soon-as-you-walk-in-the-goddamn-door, bad-size having BASTARDS.
Anyway, Hairless looks directly at the spazzing-off Coco and tells her to relax, that he'll get her there. Unfortunately, when he's looking at her directly, he's NOT looking at the road, as Coco's scream of "QUENTIN LOOK OUT!" informs us. Hairless has hit a sweet little old lady. Well, we don't know yet if she's sweet or not, but she's definitely old. Hairless claims that he didn't hit her, she hit him, jumping out at him like a jackrabbit. Yeah, octogenarians are known for their speed and agility. Coco yells at Hairless to help the lady, but since the lady in question has neither large breasts nor a propensity for taking off her clothes, Q isn't really all that interested. Coco forces him to get out of the car anyway, and they both rush to the woman's aid. "Did you see what happened?" the woman says, her dark glasses askew. "I was crossing the street when some car came out of the blue and just ran me right over!" Quentin can't believe his good fortune -- old AND blind? Ehhhxcellent. He fixes her glasses and says, "That's horrible." Wow, Quentin. I knew you were a sleaze, but a lying sleaze? Say hello to the plankton, Q, you've sunk to an all-time-low.