Anyway, back in the homeland, Chuck has started her new job full-force. The clothes and sets on the program now become so monochromatic, I can't even tell what's going on anymore. All the walls are the color of honey. The clothes are the color of honey. Everything is in a honeycomb pattern and accessorized with bees. All the women have hive-shaped hair. It's the definition of too much, but it's awesome -- the only issue, really, is that the color scheme serves like some sort of blue screen against which I can only see floating heads. My mother did once shout at me in the Rich's dressing room that I must be "legally colorblind" when I insisted that a certain sweater matched a certain skirt which according to her did not all match, so maybe I'm the only one with the problem distinguishing the human form among the golds and tans. Anyway, Woolsy brings Chuck in for some schmooze time with Betty, who quickly shoots down Chuck's attempts to make nice. "You're not going to stand there and kiss my ass are you?" Betty asks a shocked Chuck, going on to say that the whole takeover thing Woolsy did was of the hostile sort. "He didn't mention the hostile part," Chuck mumbles. Oh, yes, Betty says. "The ass you were just kissing is now just the ass of a retired honey mascot," she says. "That's my new title! Used to be 'founder and president.'" Chuck tries the shared-confidence route. "That would make me stinging mad," she says, in sympathy. Betty says not really -- when all of your bees die it's hard to care about anything. She says that right after Woolsy took over Betty's Bees, mites got into her beloved hive and caused the death of her bees. "It would almost be poetic," Betty says of the timing, "if it didn't suck so much." Chuck, pained at the mention of dead bees, has a brainwave, realizing that Kentucky hadn't said she used a lot of "might" to sabotage Betty's Bees. She had used a lot of MITES. (Hey, what's scarier than a swarm of bees? Try a swarm of bees carrying a bunch of these babies. Nightmares, friends. Nightmares. Forever.)
Betty, meanwhile, is waxing fond over the memories of her hive, which she has tended for generations. "The first hive was an infestation in the corner of my bedroom," she says. "I tried to kill it." Hee. But, she says, her mother being a Methodist and her father being a pragmatist, she realized God put those bees there for a reason. "You lived with bees?" Chuck says. "That sounds magical." Betty says they called it the Honey House. "The Honey House is empty now," she says. "Those bees built Betty's Bees." Chuck asks her if what happened to the bees could have been sabotage. "Conspiracy theories?" Betty says, appearing to brush it off. "You think someone intentionally murdered my bees?" Chuck nervously says it was just a thought, while Betty creepily drones (ha, again!) on. "It wasn't sabotage," she says. "Sometimes bad things just happen." Or, I think that's what she says -- seriously, do I need to adjust my television set? Am I going deaf? I can't hear some of this stuff! Anyway, unbeknownst to Chuck, JD tells us in ominous tones, something bad was about to just happen to her.