And then, to our wild, young, star-crossed, mismatched, danger couple of Max and Liz who, this very season, were knocking over fruit stands across state lines and who are now caught participating in that wild, kinky deviant behavior that is...miniature golf. What a gas. They'd better finish up the back nine or they'll be late for shuffleboard on the main deck. Truth be told, it does look like kind of a nice course. Too bad it's all mucked up with the small talk of Max telling Liz what happened with him and Michael, and Liz responding with a story about her old baby-sitter, free golf, and something about a "snack shack." Whatever. I'm sure it wasn't important. Primarily because it was said on this show. Max pulls another "by the way" before introducing meaty plot-development information (don't be ashamed of letting the plot happen, "writers"), letting Liz know that his father is unusually curious about her sudden return from Vermont. Liz counsels him, "You should just tell him what I told my father. That my drug-addicted roommate wanted me to get into a three-way with my Latin teacher." Well, I missed that episode, didn't I? "I erred on the side of the dramatic." Oh.
Max bemoans that Michael doesn't want Max around, and Liz posits, "It's a hard enough thing to deal with somebody dying, Max. It's even weirder to have them come back to life." A-yuh. Something dead is betta. Thus spoke the great Fred Gwynne. And then, some years later, the slightly inferior but ever more Frankensteinian Liz Parker. Max asks, "Am I a ghost?" Looking for any excuse to inflict some kind of physical harm, she hits him on his back with the mini-golf club. Jeez. Two minutes for high-sticking, bruiser. I guess that was the "ghost test." Max moans on, "Are you afraid of me?" Afraid isn't the word, really. What is the word? Oh, yes. The word is bored. She's not afraid of him, but, while we're at it, she was "wonderink...what was it like when you were dead?" Oh, she was just wonderink, was she? That was the most casual foray into bringing up the afterlife I've ever, ever heard. But Max doesn't want to talk about it, because that would require bringing a certain specificity to the subject matter, when it's really better just to leave it vague and lazy. So that's what they do. But if Max has learned one thing, it's that he's "not interested in carrying around these responsibilities anymore." He doesn't want to fight with Michael. He doesn't want to "keep on this impossible quest to find [his] son." Was that something he was still doing? I had totally forgotten about that. Instead, he wants to "live in the now" and appreciate things he's been taking for granted, "like going to school. Or smearing you in putt-putt." Ew. What the hell does that mean? Smear? Putt? Putt? That's the dirtiest description of a game I've ever heard. I don't want to see anyone on this show smearing anything on anyone else, particularly a putt or a putt. I might throw up. Max's cell phone rings, and it's God calling to tell Max that miniature golf is about to be permanently uninvented because even God was really ooked out by the expression "smearing you at putt-putt."