Props to the whole TWoP crew. Well, with the exception of...nah, I'm just fuckin' with you.
It doesn't matter what Claire "BE FRIE FORE" Fisher and Mena "ST NDS VER" Suvari say to each other, because the viewer will be far too occupied turning to the viewer's friend on the couch and asking through the entire first scene, "Wait, are they going to kill off Mena Suvari? Are they? Because if so, I can't wait to break out the 'I'm So Glad They Finally Killed Off Mena Suvari' celebratory Cookie Puss Carvel cake I just happened to have waiting in my freezer!" Alas, finding two main characters (well, one main character and one Maine-sized forehead) in an episode's opening scene is supposed to and does lead to a certain sense of unease, especially when this show seems to have forgotten that girls are actually supposed to kiss boys. Just ask Missouri. They'll tell you.
We join Claire and Mena Suvari lying in bed and making moony eyes at each other, Claire, as if in response to the contention, "You didn't out-act me in that scene, Ambrose," insists somewhat forcefully as the episode's first line, "I did." We weren't there for it, but...she did. But Mena Suvari has some other notions of what they did or didn't do, answering simply, "No." Claire doesn't know why you say goodbye when she says hello, again insisting, "I was, like, major and intensely worked up like never before." The camera lopes around them in a slow aerial circle so God can see more clearly his new candidate for eternal hellfire -- remember, America, this scene is detrimental to your marriage -- as Mena Suvari repeats her belief that "that's so not it." Before Claire does official homage to woefully repetitive dialogue and shoots back that she "can't pay the rent" even though she "must pay the rent," she rolls over on her back after a silent second and tells Claire, "Stop looking at me like I'm the new zoo baby. I did cum." Is that how it's spelled? I hate writing that word out even in this most chaste context. It just feels so porny. I don't even like writing, "He was a designer cum musician," because...ew. But we're going to get off of it now, because I've gone and gotten cum all over this paragraph. See? Porny. And ew. ["I've always thought 'come' was the verb and 'cum' was the noun, but unlike at least one of my colleagues here, I never proofread dirty letters written to a men's magazine, so I won't be terribly forceful about it." -- Wing Chun]
Mena Suvari rolls over on top of Claire, and citizens of Arkansas, Georgia, Kentucky, Mississippi, Montana, Oklahoma, Oregon and Utah are all, "Well, our marriage has just lost its sanctity, for some reason." Peering down at Claire intently, Mena Suvari soldiers on, "Honey, there's no way." Okay, first of all? Maybe she did cum (ew). Second of all, don't call her Shirley. Or whatever she's being called. Mena Suvari examines the lack of symptoms that make up the disease of Hot Lesbian Orgasm, including, "No funny face. No funny noises. You didn't melt into a smoking little puddle of Claire. Yet." "Smoking little puddle of Claire"? Such a sharp tongue this one has. Though maybe if it were a little sharper, Claire would have...well, you know. Mena Suvari leans in for a kiss that the rats in her rat's nest hair vote on a Constitutional Amendment banning, but Claire pulls away with a look of concern and asks, "What's wrong with me?" Mena Suvari promises that it's "nothing," adding, "We're just getting started. You wait and I'll make you scream." More deep tongue kissing as Louisiana is all, "I know the vote is coming up, but this is just too hot to look away from right now."