Arthur sits alone in his room when a knock on the door interrupts. He pauses a minute to compose himself and calls out, "Please enter." Ruth comes through the door as a suddenly flustered Arthur welcomes her, "Hello...Mrs...Ruth." Which is how we shall refer to her for the rest of the episode, if you do not mind. Actually, nah. Mrs. Ruth takes a few steps further into the room, telling Arthur that what they had was special, but that "we can't continue to hold grudges and be angry with one another." Arthur nails it in his response, promising her, "I'm happy that you appear so happy." Which only sets her off more, as she steps further into the room and yells, "I know you sent us the feces box and the feces gift basket!" Ha! Like she's registered for all of her wedding presents at Crate & Barrel Filled With Poo. Arthur stands in a fury and accuses her, "You don't know me at all!" Ruth tells him that they had their chance, and Arthur busts out, "We never had a chance!" Ruth knows that this means Arthur is "harboring feelings," and he tells her that he is: "I do harbor feelings. I'm human. And I'm a man. You of all people should know that." Can we get whoever is writing Arthur's lines to take a crack on the rest of the script? Highlight this line in yellow: "I could never send you...poo. EVER!" Ruth wishes that she could believe him, and Arthur ends the discourse, demanding, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave" so that he can return to performing that Full Mackew on his more unfortunate though still loved in death Sims.
Jimmy makes out with some girl. Anita does a naughty dance for Russell. Edie makes out with some other lady. Claire watches. Lesbianism is contagious.
Brenda stares in front of her bathroom mirror explaining to Joe that a woman teaching one of her classes is bipolar, leading Joe to ask if everyone else has to be bipolar to get into the class. Love is when you can rag on your partner's psychological shortcomings and they're too medicated to care. There. Go sample that on a pillow and rhyme it on a Hallmark card. Eh. I'll do it.
Love is when you can rag on your partner's psychological shortcomings
And you're too medicated to care
Love is when you bring over roses
But I'm really a figment of your deranged imagination so I'm not actually there
Love is when you overdo the Xanax
And I call your heavy coma a light, passing fog
Love is when I feed you IV mood stabilizers to stop you from lunging at my defenseless pets