David sits on the couch in pajamas watching television, and Keith enters the room soon after and does what the old lady advice columns refer to as "initiating." He unbuttons (oh, I'm sorry...unsnaps) David's pajama top, and David looks down to note he's got a big ol' pair of tits. And, objectively speaking, I can understand almost every fetish. But chicks with dicks just ain't one of them. Neither is anything having to do with animals, the dead, or poo. Or family members, vast disparities in age, or food. Also, no hard drugs, no public places, nothing involving weird dirty talk, and if you "read it in Maxim," the answer it no. Outside of that, I think we're talking free swim. Meh. Let's just stay home and watch cartoons, okay? David's eyes register horror at his titties, and he wakes up in bed because it was just a dream. He punches a sleeping Keith on the shoulder and lies back down. Who has a dream that he's sitting on the couch watching television?
George is an inveterate womanizer who is emotionally unavailable to those who dare to try to love him, but Ruth is cheating on him with Mapquest. See how it's impossible to truly commit to taking sides with these two? Ruth and Bettina carry bags to a waiting van -- whose van is that? Why do these people keep having different cars? What about that big-ass town car they took to church last week? What happened to Claire's hearse? Is it actually the funeral home's responsibility to provide the hearse for the trip from the home to the ceremony? If so, who drives it? If so, how many phone books does Rico require -- as Bettina asks where they're off to. "Rosarito Beach!" Ruth answers excitedly. She starts to get into the passenger seat, but Bettina tells her, "Your trip. You're driving." Ruth agrees, telling Bettina that that makes her "the navigator." She unearths a few papers folded in her purse, telling her, "I got a map on the internet. And a list of all the haciendas. And I made us a reservation. It's the off-season and everything is reduced." Man. So much clunky foreshadowing in that sentence that I can't believe, in retrospect, that it didn't end with Ruth just shouting out for seemingly no reason, "And this paper here says I won't kill any Mexican horses!" before driving off into the sunset.
Brenda sits at a table in a small room on the shiny, reflective side of a one-way mirror. I'm sorry. That's as well as I can describe it. It's like the room on a cop show where the officer enters all self-righteously and slams a gun down on the table in front of the perp and is all, "We found this under the front seat of your car!" And then he throws down a bag of white powder and adds, "And this!" The he walks slowly around the table with his arms tightly folded across his chest, and he lowers his voice a little and adds, "Now, Mr. Innocent, perhaps you'd like to give us a new alibi for where you were on Thursday night!" If that kid keeps up the hard work, he's gonna make lieutenant one day!