Six Feet Under
Bomb Shelter

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M. Giant: B- | Grade It Now!
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Oh Me, Oh Maya

In David and Keith's kitchen, the defendant is throwing a diva-level conniption about the lack of rice. Keith says, "We'll have pasta." David doesn't want pasta, he wants risotto. Pasta isn't nearly gay enough. Of course, what he's really upset about is the prospect of the lawsuit bankrupting them. Keith puts his hands on David's shoulders and walks him through a calming exercise. Remember when Keith was the angry one? Keith tells him to think positive thoughts, and David asks if that includes "Beating the shit out of Roger fucking Pasquese?" Again? Dude, look where that got you the first time. Keith says they'll be okay even if The Pasqueasel does sue them, because Keith's assets won't be in play: "Maybe this is the upside to us not being able to get married." Keith is just Mr. Positive Attitude all of a sudden, isn't he? David glumly predicts, "He's going to take my part of the funeral home and garnish my wages for the rest of my life." David, I don't think there's much danger of that, because that would require you to actually go to work sometimes. Although I am somewhat amused by the thought of the Pasqueasel doing intake interviews. Bereaved client: "I don't know what to do...my life is over...." The Pasqueasel: "Who the fuck do you think you are?" Anyway, Keith thinks that they might get somewhere if they get the Pasqueasel away from his lawyer and try to talk some sense into him. David seems doubtful, but Keith figures they've got nothing to lose. He's right: they don't. Fade to white.

Seems like a commercial should go here. I miss them, but at least the scenes on this show are short.

Ruth and George are watching the smarmy video from the Loving Couples workshop when David pokes his head in and asks to see Ruth downstairs. It seems George has taken over a storage closet and crammed in enough bottled water to float an aircraft carrier. He even moved Rico's cremains urns to a smaller closet. David tells George that they can't keep all that water in there, and there's a somewhat tense discussion about whether to use the spare bedroom or the driveway, until Ruth suggests the bomb shelter. George looks at Ruth as if he would, as the commercials say, marry her all over again. "You have a bomb shelter?" he gasps. Yeah, it's news to us, too, dude.

Ma Chenowith is now parked in a hospital bed whose controls Brenda is fucking with rather incompetently. Ma snaps at her to knock it off and demands more Vicodin, but Brenda reminds her that she just had some. Ma is not in a good mood. Brenda begs her to be reasonable, but Olivier, who's also there, gestures expansively with his bran muffin and encourages Ma to be as mean as she wants. So helpful, that guy. Ma agrees that she'll be a nasty old crone, now that she's no longer a woman. Brenda sighs that Ma's still a woman, to which she hisses, "Then give me your uterus." Ah, I think I understand what happened now. In general, at least. The supply of fucked-up Chenowith siblings has been permanently and irrevocably cut off. Hard not to see that as good news. It would be nice if we could be sure of the line coming to an end, but I guess that's kind of up to Nate now. Speaking of fucked-up Chenowith siblings, the male one has just appeared with a basket of flowers. Ooh, awkward. Billy offers to leave, but Olivier's too into his role of stirring shit up and insists that he stay. Brenda puts a brave face on it and agrees. Billy observes that Brenda, too, brought Ma's favorite flowers, which triggers a new movement in Ma's symphony of self-pity. "She's not a woman any more," Brenda clarifies. Billy insists that Ma's still young and beautiful. This is all way too functional for Olivier, who breaks in: "Of course they're going to say nice things to you. They're your kids. Me, I'm a miserable prick who cares nothing about anyone but myself. And I look at you in your hospital bed, tired and worn out from surgery, and I selfishly wonder, how long must I wait before I can fuck you?" That just sits there in the middle of the room for a while like a big, steaming turd. "Finally," Ma breathes, "Somebody said something right." Brenda protests, "It would have been weird if I'd said it." Billy says, "Not in this family." Hey, that's my line. Olivier's little love poem appears to have had exactly the intended effect. To Brenda's horror, Ma kicks her children out of the room, her face telegraphing the answer to Olivier's question. And that answer is, "As soon as these freeloaders clear out of here." Man, her brain must be wherever her uterus is now.

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