So this is Teddy. We're in Pa Gavin's apartment, Teddy asking where the kids are. Pa notes that Janet took them out for ice cream, and Teddy thinks that Tommy is going to kill them. He goes racing for the front door in a sequence I'll just cop to totally not understanding, but just at that moment, Janet walks in with the little girl and Red. She hands Teddy a pint of ice cream she got for him, too, and then kisses him on the side of the head because goofballs.
"So what do we do?" Garrity asks Lou and Tommy as they arrive back at the firehouse. Lou's got it all taken care of: "We wait. We don't prejudge, we don't guesstimate, we don't come to any easy assumptions. We wait until he gets into the house next week." Garrity, stone-faced, continues, "And then?" Lou knows that that's when they're "just all over his gay dago ass."
We time-cut these three players into -- are we calling this the kitchen? -- where they sit together at the table, Franco bemoaning his shitty, shitty life. "I wanna, like, write something to her, y'know? Put my innermost feelings and thoughts on paper." Franco reminds Lou that he wrote some poems after 9/11 (which brings a healthy chuckle from Tommy) and asks, "Can you help me?" Tommy jumps in now to note that Lou can only write stuff that rhymes -- an affront to his poetic soul, I guess, that Lou vigorously denies. Tommy thinks that Lou is afraid to take on this challenge, and Franco quickly tires of their arguing and stands up to go, saying that he'll just buy Laura some flowers. But Lou calls him back, gesturing to Tommy for a pad and a pen and explaining to Franco that women want to hear "what's going on inside you." Heart-wise. They ask him what he sees deep down, and Franco comes up with "blackness and acrimony." Check out the big words on Franco! Tommy, by way of solution, notes, "We gotta go with tits." Excuse me? "Chicks love to hear you talk about how great they look, so you gotta tell her how great her eyes are, how great her lips are. You know what I mean?" Franco is intrigued, responding that he loves Laura's ass and wonders whether or not they can talk about that. Oh god. Best poem ever.
Loving you was never hard
To win your honor, I'd punch the face of a tard
Something something something high-class
Something something, I love your ass
That's really all I have so far.
But Tommy counsels Franco to stay away from the ass in love poetry (were he only around to counsel Shakespeare before he wrote that rare misfire, the sonnet "I Like Big Butts, 'Tis Not A Falsity." Iambic pentameter and everything!), seeing as all women think their asses are fat. Tommy: "We like the ass. We think it's a festival of fun." Ew. But, heh. "To them, the ass is death. It's gravity and death and hard goddamn times. Stay away from the ass." Instead? "Go with the tits. Tits, eyelashes, eyes." Lou regards him in a horrified fashion, responding that if Franco gives Laura a poem about her tits, she's going to rip it up and shove it down his throat. Instead, they want "remorse" and "I'm sorry," and they want to hear about it "out the goddamn yin-yang." Can Franco write about Laura's ass if he calls it her yin-yang? Tommy says there's room for that as long as he shoehorns in something about the tits, and this argument culminates in the patter-y exchange that launched a thousand forum quotes this week, when...eh, screw it. Here's the whole thing: