Amanda: But I just grew these.
Amanda gets out of the car and gets her booby blown off. George looks at it all like he's watching TV. If only I could get him to write the recap.
Audience: Sheesh, George. What are you waiting for, popcorn? Get out of the car and help Fred! We can't watch her die again. One hole in the world is enough.
George gets out of the car and starts to chase the shooter.
Audience: FRED, George. SAVE FRED!
George: (sheepishly) oh, right.
Later, at the hospital...
Jim: So, you're quite the ladykiller, huh buddy?
George: That's what your wife says. Seriously, look at me. Now look at yourself. Now back to me.
Jim: When are we going to leave this show, George? We're too good for it. I mean, they get Amy Acker to guest star, and then shoot off her booby and put her in a coma. And did you see what they did to Cybill Shepherd last week?
George: Have you seen the ratings, Jim? It won't be long now. While we're killing time, why don't you go after My-Name-Is-Luka, but keep it a secret from me. I know he's behind this, but the writers want me to pretend like I want to protect you, even though I spent one whole episode running you over with a car.
Jim: Up, up, and awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.
Daytime; High School
Daphne: Hey Recapper-lady, you forgot the set-up to my B-plot!
Your Recapper: So did everyone else watching the show. But don't let it get you down, kid. You'll land another role, soon. If they ever put you in a Joan of Arcadia remake, I'll give it a look-see.
Daphne: Cheese it. There's my new crush, Brett. He's dating the school's queen beeyotch, but they break up every day, so I'm just biding my time, reading his mind. Oh, shit.
Your Recapper: What's wrong?
Daphne: His mind is on modernist art. I've just managed to finagle a date to the museum with him, which means now I'm going to have to coerce JJ into learning all about it, even though I mangled his chances with his last crush.
Your Recapper: Ever heard of Wikipedia? Besides, what good is that going to do? You can't bring your little brother on your date and have him psychically feed you conversation all night.
Daphne: DON'T TELL ME WHAT I CAN'T DO.
Your Recapper: I'll tell you one thing, if you ever, ever imitate John Locke again, I'll kill you off myself. I'll tell you another thing, too. I'm not going to spend too many keystrokes on your story.