Emmett and Vic walk into Woody's. Emmett sniffles, "Look at them. Partying. Don't they know Godiva's dead?" Vic asks, "Why should these pups give a shit about some old queen who died of AIDS?" On Emmett's shocked look, Vic shrugs, "I'm allowed to say that. I'm an old queen. Who has AIDS." Emmett's like, don't you get upset? Vic says he thinks about it every day: "Now come have a cocktail. And for once I don't mean a handful of pills."
Ted makes his way across the bar to Dick. Ted's all, hey, how's it going? Dick doesn't even remember Ted's name, and furthermore, doesn't really seem to care. He tries to turn back to his friends, but Ted taps him on the shoulder and mentions that he had a great time the night before. He asks the Dick if he still wants to go to the parade together. Dick's all, huh? Ted's like, yeah, you know, we could do a champagne brunch beforehand, and uh, you know, uh. Dick snorts, "Look, buddy? I was just doing my good deed for the year." Ouch. Ted doesn't get it, so the Dick has to explain, "It's kind of like a tradition, for Pride? I go out, find some guy -- like you -- I give him a break. I give him me. The fuck of his life. Something he can remember. Like a souvenir. It's my way of giving back to the community." I guess we all now know where Old Brian went. Well, except Brian would never fuck anyone who looked like Ted. I'm just saying. Ted, on the other hand, is just...crushed. Dick grins, "Hey, this year you're the lucky recipient." Oh, eww. Get over yourself.
Brian's. Mike escorts a drunken Brian into the loft as he rants about Pool Boy. How all the HDGBs slurped it up. And the best part? The owner is an evil homophobe. Did you know that? It's hard to see what's etched on the side of a hammer when it's hurtling towards your head. Mike, too, is shocked that Brian would work for someone like that. Brian says that it's "for the pure poetic irony. Cool, huh? Or should I say, 'cooler.'" He stops when Justin creeps out of the shadows and quivers, "I saw him. Chris Hobbes." Brian thinks Justin had a bad dream. Justin says that he saw Chris at the hospice, working off his community service. Talk about poetic irony. Brian asks if Chris said anything. Justin quakes, "He said he hopes I get AIDS and die." Brian gives Justin a big hug and tells him to forget about it. Yeah, good luck with that. He tells Justin that he should get some sleep, 'cause tomorrow's going to be a big day. It's PrideFest, you know. Justin says he's not going. Brian's like, you can't miss your first Pride! Justin snaps, "What am I supposed to be proud of? That I got bashed and didn't die?" Behind Brian, Mike mutters, "If he doesn't want to go, don't make him." Brian snarls at him to stay out of it. Mike nods, "Sure, although you have to admire the pure, poetic irony of seeing someone like you encourage him to go to Pride when --" and he picks up the cooler -- "this is what you're proud of." Brian throws it back at Mike: "And what are you proud of, that you're piss-in-your-pants afraid to march with your own goddamn mother?" "Fuck you!" Mike screams, and storms out. Justin wanders off to the darkest corner he can find to whimper in.