Suddenly, we're back at the hotel. Jessica's getting ready to go somewhere. Nick is trying to rush her along, and can't fathom why she's standing around at the sink. "What are you doing, baby?" he asks, about to regret that choice of word. "Making sure the rumors aren't true," she replies, and we see an EPT wrapper. Good lord. A pregnancy test. You know Jessica was one of those truly dumb middle schoolers who would French boys behind the bleachers and then write to Seventeen and say, "I tongue-kissed Billy Ray Hogsnuggle and now I'm having stomach pains. Will I need an abortion?" Nick jerks up his head, startled, and in that split second, you can see him panicking that a) he is never, ever going to be cleanly free of this pig-ignorant wench, and b) if they ever have a baby, he is doing all the work, from diaper changes to 4 AM feedings to undergoing intrusive exploratory surgery to see about installing a womb so he can birth it for Miss Priss, too.
Next time: Nick and Jessica play around with some Huskies. As the credits roll, we hear Jessica says she doesn't want a dog that acts like a priss -- and then, predictably, she coos over some little ratty pooch in a leopard-print outfit. "I can't see myself picking up a big turd," she asserts. "I can't really see you picking up anything," Nick cracks.