Previously: Everyone hated Lacey. Sam had a nervous breakdown. And, lest you forgot, Heather threatened to get Bret's name tattooed on her neck. You heard me right, bitches. Get ready.
It is morning, and only five girls are left. Jes was sad to see Mia go, but has the foresight to know that she has to watch her back because the conniving bitches are there, ready to stab it with a pointy pasty. I phrase that ambiguously so you know that it could mean Heather's professional-grade nip covering, or Lacey's elbow. Big John delivers Bret Mail. "Some of my kick-ass fans took a long flight/To this rock star city to spend the night/They came all this way to let me know/Who's gonna stay and who's gotta go/They've got some questions about the time we've shared/They'll want some answers, so be prepared/You know I love my fans so show some respect/Someone's going home and they're going to help me select." I can't believe the Bret Mail writers passed up a chance to finish a couplet with "erect."
Jes says with horror that she's expecting some big-haired '80s girls who look like Heather. Heh. Heather's interpretation is that Bret's fans are going to be some super-hot girls, which is cool by her, since she's not jealous. Plus, she's recently refreshed her Ogilvy home perm and thus looks the super-hottest of all. Lacey and Heather conjecture that Sam's going to take a dive in this challenge because she's jealous and too shy. Jes is excited for the challenge because some objective observers will get the chance to see and tell Bret what a fucking fruit loop Lacey is. Sam is happy about this possibility, since Lacey sucks. We get our third presentation of the interview where Sam calls Lacey a nasty, mean, dumb fucking cunt bitch girl. I think they just need to break down and call her a monster cuntwad. I'm sorry, I know that's a bad word. Tiffany corrupted me! I was swinging drunkenly from an elementary-school flagpole just the other day. This show is my bridge between innocence and experience.
Bret meets with the fab five and tells them that today is all about his favorite subject -- or "subjeck" -- passion. The passion he feels about his fans, he says, is the most important thing to him. I thought it was music? Or motocross? Or mixing things up by wearing the bandana-front weave with the little braids in it? In any case, he brings out three of his superfans -- girls he claims he's known for a long time. They are: 1) Amy, a ten-year Poison fan who still sleeps in the first t-shirt Bret threw her. And, I mean, better that than wear it in public. Amy is from Pittsburgh, my hometown and Bret's, so I'm going to cut her some slack. 2) Ky, a five-year Poison fan who named her cat "Poison." Uhh, okay. And I mean...how could you discover Poison in 2002? I thought all lovers of Poison were by default twenty-year fans. Something is off here. They just dragged these girls in off the streets, didn't they? 3) Allison, a four-year Poison fan who threw a rowdy fan off the tour bus. These are all C-list groupies, I think. I will give credit that they're not as hideous and '80s as we might have predicted. Sam is intimidated by how pretty they are, while Brandi M. thinks they're all bitches. Jes merely wonders if there could be any more sluts in this house. There can be when I arrive in my crotchless onesie.