Formaldehyde Fortress. Claire sits on the front steps, re-reading her LAC-Arts brochure for what you just know is the eight millionth time. Mommie Drearest arrives, saying that she wants to go on record as being fully supportive of Claire's decision to enroll there. "I'm just taking a tour," replies Claire. "Let's not get our panties in a wad about it." Heh. Ruth, of course, is horrified by that expression, but that may just be because she hasn't been to Target in a while. She also explains to her daughter that she never got to go to college, and that she always wanted to study French feminist writers. Hmm. Ruth never really stuck me as a Helene Cixous fan, but whatever. Claire cheerfully delivers this scene's required bit of exposition by pointing out that Billy Chenowith is a LAC-Arts alum, and then angrily pulls back her flowing red locks into a bun. "God, I hate my hair!" she exclaims. "When I go to college I'm going to cut it all off like Felicity." "Have I met her?" wonders Ruth. "Yeah, she was here for dinner once," answers Claire. Hee! That must have been the same night Nate brought home Dana and David dated Jack McFarland.
Down in the Body Shop, a sweatsuit-clad David finds Rico gazing sadly at the corpse of the DGDJ. "Did you know her?" he asks. Rico explains that Ms. Perez was sort of an adopted grandmother who lived across the street from him and Vanessa. "We used to invite her to all the kids' birthday parties. She used to sit in this folding chair, just happy to be there, with a big smile on her face." "That's sweet," sighs David. And it really is. You'll get no "Shut up, Rico" from me in this scene. Finally noticing David's attire, Rico wonders if the Fisher family will be adopting casual Fridays. "Sorry," replies David. "I'm living at Keith's now. I don't know where half my stuff is." Yeah, but you'd think he'd at least know where the suit he wears EVERY DAY might be. Or is that supposed to be a joke about how far away David is from his closet now? Either way, Rico shakes his head at that news, obviously uncomfortable thinking about what the fucking fuck his boss does with his free time. David, however, is too busy cheering the DGDJ's coffin selection to notice. "She wants the Our Lady Of Guadalupe casket," he exclaims. "I love that one!" And while it's not as cool as last year's KISS casket, I kinda like it too.
Across town, Keith is wearing his big blue sex uniform and reporting for duty. He's interrupted by his sergeant, who is unfortunately the bearer of bad tidings about the junkie shooting. "I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you this," he says. "But you're being brought up on charges. It turns out all the perp had was a toy pistol. There's also evidence to suggest that if the perp hadn't died, he might have invented a clean-burning alternative to fossil fuels, reducing our dependence on imported energy sources, thus ending the conflict in the Middle East and deflecting the horror of the impending world war!" Heh. I wonder if they'll send him to Oz. ["But [they] took him… and bound him with fetters of brass; and he did grind in the prison house." -- Judges 16:21] Then again, there's probably a lot of people who might actually like to see that. But alas, it was only a dream sequence. The real news is that Keith has been kompletely kleared of all charges. With a big black sigh of relief, he picks up his cell phone to call David and deliver the news.