It's The Oldest Permanent Floating Private School In Vermont. In her dorm room, Liz sits all comatose (or maybe she's acting up a storm; it's difficult to know for sure, really) on her bed, bundled up in all black and a hood. She's trying to join the world in its decade-long crusade to ignore Ashley "Show Me That Smile Never Again" Johnson, as Chrissy Seaver rambles on, "Spending spring break in this place? You'll be the only one here." Liz monotones (yeah, you're welcome for the reminder), "Good. The fewer people around here right now the better." She could use one less Chrissy Seaver, it seems. And she's hardly the only one. The dorm room door opens, and Maria remains bizarrely uncontextual, introducing herself to Chrissy with, "Hi. I'm Maria. I'm the best friend." They shake hands, and Liz goes all tough girl, like, "Dead men don't shake hands, man!" and storms out of the room with a muttered, "I'm outta here." Chrissy asks if "something happened with her ex." Maria volunteers, "Yeah. He's dead." And for just a passing moment I wish Max weren't dead, if only because that would be an awesome trick to play on someone you hate. Stare somberly. Deadpan the words "he's dead." Stand back. Watch the fireworks. Whee!
Ah, the Rat. Fantastic. Liz enters alone (if this place is such a hot spot, how come she's the only person who's ever…oh, never mind), walking over to the liquor cupboard and trying to pry it open. But no. So she pounds and she pounds and she huffs and she puffs and…bad CGI everywhere! A perfectly circular hole bursts outward from the wall, spilling her back into the corner with wooden shards all over the place. See that? A little sawdust on the floor and it's almost just exactly like a real bar. Good call, Liz. And they're always glad you came. She stares at her hands, which blaze with that green static electricity that was on sale at the CGI closeout sale. She puts both of her hands up and screams, "Aaaaaah!" Then Norm walks in, and she screams, "Norm!"
The Den of Porno seems to have a full exterior life we've never been introduced to before, with a patio and pretty, pretty trees. Jesse paces near the wooden gate, insisting, "Do it again." Michael protests, but Jesse realizes we've just arrived and again insists, "Just do it again." Wheels turning round and round. Michael holds a hand up over a bush and makes a number of pink flowers appear and disappear again. Pink. Just for Jesse, who rants, "You tell me this crazy story about another planet and kings and shapeshifters and pod chambers." Is he singing the score from Pippin? Kings and shapeshifters to take by storm as we go along our way? Oh, wait. He's not done: "Every time I come close to believing it, I start worrying that I'm strapped down in a room somewhere because I've lost my mind." I know. It took us almost fifty TV hours of cumulative retardation, and we still don't get it. But ranting Jesse is interrupted by Dr. Who, who walks onto the lanai and informs the other two, "Isabel has a temperature of a hundred and twelve. And rising." Michael asks how high fever goes before it "gets dangerous." Dr. Who warns them, "Let me tell you something: a hundred and seven is considered fatal in most cases. I've never even heard of a temperature of a hundred and eight." Oh, please regale us further with your tales of medical impossibilities gleaned from your many hours of attending medical school in the Philippines. Michael and Jesse decline to supply the doctor with any relevant information. Dr. Who leaves. Michael and Jesse exchange a powerful glance at close range.