Council comes back to deliver their decision. Jonathan asks if it's unanimous, and Mike says it most definitely was not. And the reward? The microwave. The council is about five seconds from being lynched, as the kids erupt with indignation and fury. Taylor silences everybody by shouting even louder than they are, and explains that they need the microwave. Mike makes the extremely unwise decision of publicly disagreeing with his fellow council member. When you get home, Mike, ask your parents what "united front" means. Even Laurel, who stumped for pizza, wants him to hush. Taylor yells "Deal with it!" at least three times, but this time, Taylor, the kids will not deal. They will not. And we go to commercial with Taylor, bug-eyed, rapidly criss-crossing her arms in front her face. This must be how her parents signify "deal with it" in quiet places like church.
Later on, back in Bonanza City, the rage from Pizzageddon is subsiding, but Taylor's attitude is not sitting well with the other kids. D.K. is particularly choked, and he's holding forth on a porch: "I am upset at Taylor because she is so ridiculously disrespectful. And I'm not going to deal with that. I am fourteen years old, and you are eleven; don't ever talk to me like that!" Heh. No appointed council position could ever trump three years' age difference when it comes to conferring authority, man. Elsewhere, Taylor's walking with one of her cronies, who's mimicking the other kids: "'We need to have pizza!'" "They need to get over it," says Taylor. Because you can't spell "Marie Antoinette" without "Taylor." Sort of. I mean, you'd have a Y and an L left over, but...anyway.
Another night means another party in the saloon, only this is the first night with the curfew. Mike tells everyone in the saloon that it's almost 9:30. There's a little bit of booing, but overall, everyone seems to be complying. Mike interviews that it sucks being a council member because no one likes you. Well, it's not a popularity contest, Mike. Not like your gold-star criteria. Taylor helps shepherd everyone home to bed. You know, she seems to excel at any task that involves yelling at people. In an interview, she explains that you have to be bossy to get people's attention. She learned this from George Bush, I kid you not. She's unshakeable in her conviction that being the boss means being bossy. But apart from some unidentified kid saying "this stinks," the curfew doesn't seem to be nearly as unpopular a decision as the pizza.