In a guestroom somewhere deep inside Martha's Quirk 'n' Go, Taudrey enters to find Sloman sitting on her bed, holding a stuffed bunny by the head and shaking it back and forth ever so gently. Awwww. And aaaaaah! Taudrey tells him, "I didn't know you were coming," but her delivery is, as usual, so vague and indirect that I need this entire scene to end with the punch line, "I know! I was talking to the bunny!" and I might be able to make it all the way through to the end. Of the scene. "I've been here all night," he informs her, wanting to know where his money is. She doesn't have it. She needs more time. And so, as is customary on this show, when a character is so moved that they have only one method of recourse, they stand, call themselves to arms, and give a great big speech. Here's Sloman's now: "You're too young to remember, but Sloman's wasn't always a slow-dance bar. Just a plain old chicken ranch, man pays his money, takes a ride, end of story. Now they talk and they dance and the surprising thing to me is in the end they pay more for it than they used to. Funny thing about most men. They prefer fantasy to the real thing. That's what you are to them. An ideal. Something they wish they had. But they don't want to know the real you. Wouldn't live up to their own imagination. I'm the only one who sees you for who you are." It goes on and on and on. He makes her say it: "I need you." She'd never think of leaving him. Ever-loving devotion. He runs a hand across her face and threatens, "The money, Mary. By sundown," before taking his leave. Chicken ranch? I've never heard a whorehouse called that before, if that's in fact what he was referring to. I have no idea. But what I do know is how much that scene reminded me of a nice Crystal Pepsi.
Next on the Remind-o-Vision Network, we find ourselves in some kind of chrome (why) think (when your show can) tank, The Three Product-Placed Ross-Dress-For-Less Suit-Wearers Of The Apocalypse sitting uncomfortably man-close, as a dark voice intones, "As you well know, this group isn't fond of convening. However, the recent developments in Push, Nevada have raised sufficient concern to warrant such a gathering. I understand you've prepared a presentation which we assume is concise." Oh, my God. More recapping. Jim receives a fax. Jim arrives in Push. No one knows who sent the fax. Bodnick stole the money and Bodnick stole the Bible. Prufrock watched Bodnick killed by the man with the serpent tattoo, and followed up with the dreaded 7-C. The money has been found. The Bible has not. Who paid Prufrock's bail? With that question, the official corporate seal of Siegfried And Roy Airlines appears on a series of monitors inside the room. A silent pause is followed by an explanation, which non-union Vincent Price provides from the shadows: "Our competition." Well, if that's who they are, why not check out straightaway if maybe they were the providers of said bail? Really, it's getting exhausting doing all of their work for them. You guys? The competition? They're kind of winning.