Proving that she's a special victim indeed, Ashley finally lets Veronica be her lawyer, because that worked out so well for Garrett Reynolds. Their conversation is like, "Can I talk to you about how I killed Wilden that time?" and Veronica is like, "I would prefer to discuss other shit instead of that." She is the most interesting lawyer!

Hanna's having crazy dreams about Ashley being in jail and missing hair in patches on her head, which is pretty intense, but not so intense that you should take the scarf-wrapped handgun out of mommy's closet and carry it all over town until you are put in jail. Betty Lou, you better get that gun out of your handbag!

She does, she buries it by scooping dirt out of a sorority house's yard with a beer mug. Why? Because she's board. That's literally the only reason, she's like, "I got this gun in my handbag, everybody's so boring at this boring college party, I should probably just go dig in the dirt in the middle of the night and get my weird ass arrested."

But then I guess that's our Hanna, always pushing cars into swamps and burying guns all over town and throwing USB drives into blenders. Why set it on fire like a Hastings, when instead you can ensure the police will come and put you in jail? So they do that, not that it helps, because now all the Marin girls are going to jail. Mainly for being super sketch about crimes they did not do, to the degree that the evidence is now like incontrovertible that they did (even though really they didn't). (Probably.)

Well, after A sends a hive of bees to kill Ella Montgomery, I'm starting to come around to Aria's side of the argument: Maybe living in an Austrian castle and making pastries is the better option, if shit like bees is now on the table. Of course Mikey Montgomery -- "Who? Who is that little boy in our house?" -- does not approve, but that bitch is so basic he doesn't even know that Ezra is the least of our worries these days. Somebody tell Mike that there's BEES now. (On the upside, every time he kills a vampire his tattoo gets bigger, and may one day explode the clothing off his body.)

Oh, and if you were wondering where he was for two years: He was just playing video games, he was just right over there at the edge of your vision. So that's the solution to that mystery.

The body of the strangeness this week, though, comes down to Spencer and Emily, who for different reasons just aren't special enough to be in college today. Spencer because she skipped a few weeks to be in a mental institution I guess, and Emily because that one big swim meet, it turns out, was "the big swim meet" and now her life is over. On the upside, this causes her to call type-A Spencer a "snot rag," which is pretty beautiful. On the other hand, you can't both be Spencer right now, not with Hanna going to jail like she is, because then that brings it all down to Aria. And let's be real about that.

So while Emily is using her passing privilege to make this wicked hot perfect dude think she's not gay so he'll help her get into college instead of Spencer -- a dude called the "Wizard," because he is a wizard, a wizard of getting only one person into college -- Spencer tracks down the magic Tippi-the-Parrot phone, which (after some run-ins with this one hilarious hot douchebag who is like everywhere at once the entire party, fucking everything up in a very realistic non-stop way) is a (Noel Kahnishly barebones) secret room at a sorority house.

(It's so good! At college a hilarious nerd goes, "You got the crazy eyes!" And Spencer goes, "They're not that crazy," and the nerd goes, "They're crazy enough." She's offended, but I like that she is fully aware of what she's bringing to the table. And then they have a fight about the Lannisters from Westeros, of course.)

It looks like the Hatch. It looks like where you have to type the numbers every 42 minutes or whatever. (Which makes total sense, because Alison DiLaurentis obviously would not mind fitting that into her schedule.) But so I guess that whole summer, Ali was just calling whatever sex victim was locked in this room, over and over, and I guess his name was "Boardshorts"?

Dear Boardshorts, are you enjoying being a sex prisoner of this robot Greek house? Too bad we live in Rosewood. I myself am pregnant with a murder. Hang on, I have to call you back, my ghost twin from the future is stalking me again. Ten four, roger dodger, Stranger Danger out.