Tommy stops by a confessional booth (which on this show doesn't mean anything close to what it means on most of the other shows I've recapped) and asks the father to bless him for sinning. The priest -- that's not Father Murphy, so WHO IS THAT? -- recognizes Tommy immediately, and Tommy launches into a speech about how he has to atone for the sins of his last five, ten, fifteen years. The father asks him, "Like what?" Which, if you ask me, is his own funeral, really. Here are some: "The cursing and the, a lot of the, uh, jerking -- I'm sorry, masturbating. Once DVD came in with the porn..." The priest registers a slightly confused look, which...awesome. Tommy digs a bit deeper now, mentioning "the carousing, the cheating, the lying." Which, turn black and fall off as it now doubtlessly will, I have to say that the carousing, cheating, and lying seems a bit closer to the creamy nougat center of confession. The priest orders him to "say ten Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers." Tommy wishes he would prescribe some Selectra XL instead.
Out in the pews now, Tommy kneels in front of a giant golden Jesus on the cross and gets up to the "on earth as it is in heaven" part of the Lord's Prayer before forgetting what comes next and giving up. Don't you hate it when you can't remember the words to your favorite penance? He stands up and looks at the back of the church, where he sees Foreshadowing Kid again. Foreshadowing Kid takes off and Tommy gives chase, but when he gets out on the street, the kid is gone. Tommy wishes the kid were made of Selectra XL instead.
Garrity. Franco. Punch. Got it.
Mike walks into the firehouse carrying a pastry and coffee in an Aramark cup, and bids hello to Chief and Lou. Chief asks, deadpan, "Where'd you get the faggy coffee?" Lou piles on, "And the faggy but I'm sure very tasty-looking croissant?" Predictable questions, utterly beguiling answer: "Tommy." Chief and Lou exchange manifold confused looks, and Lou asks, excitedly, "Where is he?" Mike once more stuns the crowd, answering, "Polishing the rig." That's slang for what he told the priest about, right? Turns out not so much, as Chief and Lou discover when they walk into the next room to find Tommy...well, polishing the rig. He welcomes them, all chipper, and tells him that he bought a chocolate specialty coffee that is, and I quote, "like you're drinking coffee but you live in an ice cream world." He apologizes for not bringing it into the kitchen, but recaps that he ran into Mike and started talking about the whole is-he-gay thing and he got distracted, as you do. Anyway, "he's not gay." Mike explains to Chief that hot chicks that hang out with gay guys -- and here Lou hilariously butts in to tell them, "fag hags." -- are looking for a straight guy who can hang with the gay dudes. "So," Chief clarifies, "you're a fag hag." Yup. Mike adds that to truly sell this routine, he also had to learn a few dance moves (this part is really more of a gray area of the fag-hag universe, but I'll go with it), and Tommy instructs, "Show 'em." At which Mike starts beatboxing and doing what seems to be some kind of breakdance-air-punching thing that seems to be several rungs down the movement ladder from what you and I think of conventionally as "dance." Tommy jumps in, saying that he'll "ride passenger," at which Mike starts mime driving a car with his left arm over the imaginary steering wheel, while Tommy squats next to him, pretending to roll down a window. Like in most cases with physical comedy, it's not watching the physical part that's funny but instead watching the people watching the physical part that's funny. And Chief and Lou deliver, Lou finally asking Chief to slap him across the face. Chief obliges and they take off, as Garrity enters and can't seem to quite figure out what he's looking at. Tommy offers him a croissant, and Garrity backs out of the room like he's trying to escape a madman. Which he is. Tommy shrugs and assumes Garrity just isn't hungry, because apparently one of the side effects of this drug is that you completely lose all rational touch with reality and are a clueless vessel of happy fun. Just this once, I'm kind of starting to side with the Scientologists on this one.