Will and Kevin are working on Kevin's car. Kevin: "It says any kind of brake work should be done by a professional." Will: "They're just in bed with the mechanics. I've done this before." Kevin: "You also said you'd changed the oil before." Will crawls under the car as he asks Kevin to have some faith in his old man: "Hand me the socket wrench, will you?" Frink: "Which one?" Me: "He probably only has one, unlike some people, who shall remain nameless, who have a socket-wrench problem verging on the neurotic." He screws up his face and sticks out his tongue. But you should see all the bloody socket wrenches we have in this house. Metric sets, imperials sets, all shapes and sizes and varieties. We have one whole toolbox that I've dedicated to what I loosely refer to as "torque devices" -- socket wrenches, regular wrenches, spanners, gear wrenches, adjustable wrenches, strap wrenches, pipe wrenches -- scores and scores of 'em. More on the pegboard, more kicking around in drawers. And every time we walk through Home Depot, he starts salivating over some 196-piece set that he thinks he needs. It's a sickness. Around here, we ought to be wrapped tighter than a mummy's butt and yet one of us still has a screw loose. (So much for remaining nameless.) Frink, reading over my shoulder: "Why don't we discuss how many different cans and colours of paint we have in this house?" Me: "Because I've already digressed a lot, you see, and I've tried my readers' patience enough." Back to the show!
Kevin hands him a socket wrench. We're both expecting Will to get a face full of oil or some other nasty vehicular fluid any minute. Somehow, though, they resist this cliché. From under the car, Will converses uncomfortably with Kevin, mentioning that he noticed another load of movies arrived: "Don't you think you're watching a little too much Rob Schneider?" As if any amount of Rob Schneider is not hazardous to one's health. Kevin: "Hot Chick is hilarious." Will asks about Beth. Kevin says that didn't work out. Will brings up Lily, but Kevin interrupts to say he's really not looking for anyone right now. Will diagnoses Kevin's car problem as the failure of the parking brake to fully release. Kevin thought he felt something dragging. Will says he'll loosen it up. Helen comes out on the porch with some…rusty-looking, curvy metal thing, and asks, "Why is this in the fridge?" Will: "Oh, you know, I had trouble fitting that into the…um…uh, thing, so I thought the cold air would help it contract, and then I could, um…" Helen, looking resigned: "I'll put it back." Will shrugs at Kevin. Wimmen!