Low Winter Sun
The Way Things Are

Episode Report Card
Tippi Blevins: C+ | 13 USERS: B-
YOU GRADE IT
Piggy Cried All the Way Home
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!

Previously: Damon paid his respects to Reverend Lowdown with a big bag of powdered sugar and his family's secret recipe for coconut layer cake. The Rev was like, "I see a couple of skinny white boys playing baker!" Damon assured him he wasn't trying to inch in on his pastries. Dani began to suspect that Frank might actually be brain dead, so she tried to give him mouth-to-mouth. He pulled away and she was embarrassed that she had mistaken his terminal sadness for something even more serious. Frank and Joe tried to sell the movie rights to their script titled "We Murdered Our Fellow Cop in a Really Stupid Way, and Now We're Trying to Pin It on Some Random Nonexistent Middle-Eastern Guy." They didn't know it yet, but Damon was itching to be cast in the lead, even though he's Greek and not Middle Eastern. (Perhaps he can ask Dani for some tips.) Joe warned Frank not to go looking for his hooker ex-girlfriend Katia, lest she spoil the ending to their script, but Frank ignored him. Poppa T's and Damon's respective crews got into little disagreement over the truth behind the blind pig. Even though the pig was makin' bacon for everyone, it turns out it wasn't kosher. While nobody was looking, Michael accidentally ingested a lethal amount of lead. Damon took him on a long, scenic drive of Detroit to reminisce over their childhood pets.

Currently: There's a beeping sound like maybe somebody took Michael to the hospital after all and he's hooked up to monitors and he's not actually dead! But no, as the black screen gives way, we see that it's only a microwave, sadly tooting out notice of its completed task. A young woman takes out a cup of instant macaroni and cheese, only to discover that the microwave has done its job a little too well. She pokes the congealed contents with a plastic fork. Jesus Christ, even the macaroni on this show is sad. "Wet it," an older woman says behind her. Miss Sad Pasta adds a bit of water (or possibly booze) to her cup and stirs before trudging up the stairs.

On her way, she passes several other young women in various states of undress. It's like a sorority house of lingerie models. In her bedroom, she flicks on the TV and flops into bed to eat her depressing meal. In the bed next to hers, another young woman reads a book and waits for her hair to dry. It's Katia. She says something to her roomie in Romanian, who answers back in a similar fashion. Perhaps the exchange was about the availability of the bathroom, because that's where Katia goes now.

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Low Winter Sun

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