Aw, crap. We're golfing. With Isabel's dad. And Jesse's boss. All of which makes for, then, a fine opportunity for Scoop to pull out a flask of liquor and asking Jesse, "So, was she still jail bait when you first met her?" Oddly, into the frame walks Michael, who is playing golf mysteriously. Mr. Evans pipes in, "Michael, I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that you're not a member of the Glenhill Country Club." Not so much. Mr. Evans offers to let him stick with them. Someone's still feeling a little guilty about that whole Monopoly fracas, now isn't he? Well, as well he should be.
Crashdown. Isabel and Max enter what quickly becomes Alice's Restaurant, John Doe standing behind the cash register wearing a Good Humor Man outfit and a gay paper hat and thinking, "This really is the end of the road for me, isn't it?" Liz is wearing a girly version of the same outfit almost as literally cardboard as she is. Max and Liz exchange doe-eyed "Max. Liz. Max. Liz" blah-dee-blah for nine minutes, until Liz notes Isabel and modifies her non-acting non-style not at all in asking, "You must be here to have breakfast with Max. Because he's certainly not here just to see me. Are you, Max?" He's certainly not. They sit down at the table together as we're
back to the future at the prestigious Glenhill Country Club, Scoop grilling Michael, "So, how long have you known Max and Isabel?" A long, long time, we learn. Michael hits a ball and announces, "Aww, slice," Jesse reporting (like Scoop does), "It's in the trees," and we're
to the modern-day Crashdown, Isabel telling Max, "I've been doing some more thinking about this whole Bewitched idea. And the more and more I think about it, the more convinced I am that it would be in everyone's best interest to bring my Darrin in on the secret." Say "more" again. I dare you. I double dare you. Max offers "to think about it," because it somehow remains his decision. Liz comes over and asks after her table, and Max offers up, "We were just talking about how much easier life would be if we lived in a sitcom." Liz hazards through the haze of sheer stupidity, "You mean like Frasier?" Yes. Yes, Liz. Frasier. Max then orders up another sherry and speaks with a twee hint of a British accent, even though no one's watched it since 1997 and it continues to win all the Emmys anyway. Yes, Liz. Just like Frasier. And then Slackjaw wields a meat cleaver from behind the cash register and tells Max that he doesn't want to see his hands on her daughter. Slackjaw advances on him with the cleaver, and as he swings it back to hit Max, they turn into a bouquet of roses that Max takes from Slackjaw's hands and says, "Thanks, Mr. Parker!" Oh. Did I mention that that was part of the sitcom? Do you really care anymore?