Meanwhile, Schmarce is walking across the lot as Clueless pulls up in his Hummer. "Hey, Marce," he says, "lookin' good today." Marcy, who does actually look more attractive than usual, thanks him. Clueless says that he didn't know Schmarce and SMG were so close. "Yeah, well, it's sorta a new kind of friendship," she says. "I'll bet," says Clueless, mentally picturing Schmarce and SMG naked. Schmarce tells him that she's having dinner with SMG later that night. Clueless invites himself along, saying that he and Schmarce never spend any time together off the set. "Okay," says Schmarce, surprised. "I'll let you know." "Great," says Johnny. "We can make it a threesome." Schmarce walks away, and her expression suggests that she kind of knows what Johnny actually means by "threesome," but since that's not what she has in mind, she'll just ignore it for now.
And now for the barnyard-psychology portion of our show...Q's in his trailer, getting baleful looks from his potbellied pig, which he interprets as the pig telling him that he was wrong when he didn't take responsibility for hitting the old lady. His one-sided conversation with the snouted one prompts him to call Coco and tell her that he has to tell the old woman the truth. "You win," he says to Brando as Brando does this little piggy-dance of happiness and relief. Or he just wiggles his curly tail a lot.
A short while later, Quentin and Coco enter the woman's hospital room. She tells Q to take a seat and then says, "Oh, what a wonderfully generous man you are, Quentin King. You're one of God's little angels, put right here on earth." "Now, now," says Q. He begins to tell her the truth, but she cuts him off and informs him that they've apprehended the culprit. Quentin, not recalling any visit from the police, is baffled. It would seem that the culprit is none other than the woman's nephew. So, Quentin's thinking he's off the hook. That is, until the old lady informs him that she's not going to press charges and that Quentin can just make that reward check out to her. "Yee-ah," Hairless says, thinking he should have killed her when he had the chance.
Later, at a Hollywood hotspot, SMG and Schmarce are partaking of Cosmos and onion rings. Ew. Now, BEER and onion rings is an entirely different story...they're both nibbling on the rings and expounding about how great it is just to be pigging out. "Mm, want another Cosmo?" SMG asks. "Sure," says Schmarce. As the bartender goes off to get them more liquor, SMG turns to Schmarce and says, "Okay. So. Is this body for real?" "Excuse me?" says Schmarce. "It is just too good to be true," says SMG. Schmarce is all embarrassed and doesn't know what to do with herself. "And I bet you can eat anything you want, right?" "Almost," responds Schmarce, neglecting to mention that she can eat anything she wants as long as she throws it up immediately afterward. SMG says that she has to pay for every bite she takes. "I guess I just have a fast metabolism," lies Marcy. "Mm!" says SMG, throwing her arm out and grabbing onto Schmarce's leg high up on her thigh. "Are those not the two sexiest words in the English language?" Schmarce is a little stunned at the blatant SMG physical contact. Their new Cosmos arrive, and Schmarce sucks hers down nervously. SMG claims that yoga helps with the whole weight-control thing. "And it opens up everything," she says, sipping her Cosmo. "And I mean everything." By now, Schmarce is wondering when SMG's going to slip her the tongue, and she once again sucks down a large portion of her drink. "Hey," says SMG, "can you get your leg over your head?" "I'm not sure," says Schmarce. And then, THEY BOTH TRY TO PUT THEIR LEGS BEHIND THEIR HEADS. In a bar. In public. Without crack cocaine to urge them on. When neither of them is successful, they erupt in giggles and SMG says, "Oh my God! You are SO open!" while kind of looking at Schmarce's crotch. No, I'm not imagining it. She looks like she's staring right at Schmarce's hoo-hah. "I'm trying," says Schmarce, wondering who's going to be on top and who's going to be on the bottom.