Roswell
Four Aliens And A Baby

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Fortress Evans. A hand finds the videotape of Isabel's Ring-Around-The-Bedroom Extravaganza and puts it in an evidence bag. Which I could barely see through those cleverly concealing camouflage uniforms. Clever military, they.

Crashdown. Liz and Maria don't work there. Not when there's gossiping about boys. Maria thought Liz's "power flare-ups" were a thing of the past, but Liz affirms that's only true when it's convenient. But when she saw Tess, she got all mad with rage and jealousy and had to put her ass to the floor. Maria says that if Liz truly wanted Tess out of her life, she could just tell any one of the military flacks surrounding their homes and table.

Helicopters hover over The House That Government Subsidy Built. Max, Michael, and Tess hop in Max's car and make a break for…where? A checkpoint where a lot of people can catch them, I hope. Tess sits in the back with "Kick Me" and mindwarps herself out of the picture as a military folk approaches the car, shines in a flashlight, shows Max and Michael the glam shot of Tess, and asks to check their trunk. It goes on too long, and Tess can't maintain the warp any longer. She appears, crying baby in tow, in the back seat. Kids today.

There's a lot of crying. And sometimes it's even from the baby! Tess materializes, kids and tears and swaddling clothes and all, in the back seat of the Bitchin' Camaro which Max has of late called home. Max stares into the glare of a flashlight affixed to the end of a very long gun. Oh, cool. The Shaper Image has given corporate sponsorship to the war against the aliens. From the back seat, Tess sweats her way out of the mindwarp, apologizing in I'm-better-than-lowly-illogical-humans-because-of-this pants, "I'm sorry. I couldn't hold it." Yeah, that's what Max said. And then you got pregnant. It's all the big ol' circle of life, Simba. But Michael's all right for fighting, and his survival instincts kick up first. He howls, "Go go go go!" when a mere "go" might just as well have sufficed, and holds out a hand that sets aflame a military vehicle of some kind. This allows for those crucial "Huh? Wha?" reaction moments so crucial to Michael's effective power-mongering ("Run away! Or I shall make further sparks!"), and the Bitchin' Camaro peals out. The sharpshooters shoot sharply at three idiot kids in a convertible, and miss because this is television. Tess howls the totally necessary "Let's get out of here!" without which Max might have felt compelled to pull the car over and undertake some lovely crocheting. Too bad. He could have made himself a really lovely cat's cradle.

Fortress Evans, where the Evans parents and Jesse and Isabel clean the post-house-check rubble in strangely exaggerated pantomime. In total silence. Is this a drama game? Are they going to play trust exercises? I swear to God, as soon as one of them closes their eyes and falls backwards into their partner's arms, I'm totally out of here. But until then, Isabel will walk to answer the ringing phone. Kyle is on the other end, reporting, "They didn't make it." Which in common parlance during times of distress means, I thought, "They're all dead." So, yippee! But he only means they didn't make it…past the pre-established police barricades in order to get Tess's baby to safety. So, modified yippee. Kyle repositions the troops and says they all need to meet at Jesse and Isabel's apartment, as "it's the only safe place left." Why? No prop furniture to topple on the hunt for a missing space baby? Because that's totally the only explanation that makes sense at this late date. Bangs looks endlessly bereaved and begs them to be careful as Isabel RSVPs right away that she'll be there. I withhold my own response until I find out if someone's bringing beer.

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Roswell

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