Nate and David sit with who I'll guess is Mr. Sheedy and his son, a morose-looking boy (well, with the dead mom and everything) of about twelve whose bowl cut I strangely envy and can't quite explain why. Mr. Sheedy explains that, according to witnesses, his wife just jumped out of her car and ran into traffic, and Nate sympathizes that it's "horrible" that this shit has gone down. But Mr. Sheedy explains with a ghoulish smile that "it was her time," and David confirms that "the Lord works in mysterious ways," a point on which Mr. Sheedy is inclined to agree. All business because of this being the part where it's their, like, business, David tries to keep on point, beginning to ask a question before Nate cuts him off: "In the interest of healthy grieving, Mr. Sheedy, you need to give yourself permission to at least be curious as to why your wife would jump out of a car and into traffic for no apparent reason." Mr. Sheedy stays all nearer to his god and what-have-you, smiling like the whole 700 Club just showed up at his house singing an a cappella version of "Heaven is a Place on Earth," responding, "It's not gonna bring her back." David jumps in at this point and packs Nate off to the basement, and Nate goes after he once again wishes Mr. Sheedy condolences. Bowl Cut (we've gotten to know each other a little bit better now...you guys, is that my haircut?), I think, is choking back tears. He, too, shall learn the hard way that crying for your dead mother kills kittens and also that there is no kitten heaven because once he thought about masturbation. Hello. Read the Bible.
A tight shot of the Fisher fridge shows Arthur painstakingly labeling all of his goods with a marker. Including, when we catch up with him, a container of "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter." I am total sucker at the hands of Sharpie humor. It's effect on me? Is permanent.
Ring the bell, suckah! School's back in! Claire sits in the last row of an art history lecture staring at the front of the room with a look of such acute boredom I expect to see slides depicting the scene at the kitchen table on the overhead projector. A brunette sitting next to her looks over and tells Claire that she really likes her work, introducing herself in the process as "Cliché Sapphic Enabler." At least that's what I thought she said, but upon repeated listenings her name turns out to be "Anita Miller." Claire doesn't seem that interested in conversation, but seconds more of listening to the lecture and she decides she has no choice: "How much of this Gothic stuff can there be?" she asks. Let's play Price Is Right rules, which is whoever guesses closest without going over. I'll guess 400 years' worth. And don't y'all just be guessing "one dollar" because I was the one who had to go first. Claire continues on, "I mean, it's really beautiful, but it's starting to blend together in my head." Oh, come on, Claire! "I mean, it's really beautiful" isn't punk rock at all! You can do better than that. Just be all, "These Gothics are thunderously dull, and perhaps even driving me to lesbianism." Anita asks Claire if she's working on anything, and Claire tells her she is not. Anita concurs that she did nothing during the summer other than work at Starbucks and see The Hulk, which is an excuse for them to make fun of The Hulk. Yeah, we know it was a bad movie. That's why we didn't see it. And the assumption that two people in one school would have seen this movie completely throws out of whack the entire economic structure of the film business, seeing as the movie only grossed ten dollars. They laugh loudly at Claire's use of the word "gigunda," and a male student several rows up shushes them loudly and shoots a look of fury. In this scene? In college? I'm that guy. After adequately pissing off the guy in the script called "Pissed Off Student," Anita invites Claire to a coffeehouse to see her friend Edie perform in some way. Claire says yes because she was too busy seeing The Hulk to know she should never, ever see Sugar and Spice.