Six Feet Under
Static

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M. Giant: B- | Grade It Now!
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Incest Is Best

Over at Brenda's, she's asking her brother to move out, saying that Maya will need a room. Billy asks if she's sure she'll be okay when the baby comes. She says no, which leaves him puzzled. She says, "Billy, I'm not saying that when the baby comes you won't be here eighteen hours a day." Someone's pretty sure of herself. "I'm just saying that…I gotta get my fucking shit together and we need the space." Billy swallows his disappointment and nods pleasantly. He asks when Brenda's picking up Maya, and she says this afternoon, wondering, "Why the fuck did I tell them they could keep her?" Billy says not to beat herself up. "Just go get her. She's your daughter. You're the best mother she could have." And then he gets up to go pack, while Brenda stands there wondering if she really got away with it, and resolving never to listen to another one of her stupid dead husband's idiot ideas ever again. She'd be better off listening to the static.

Claire's not dead. She's just walking along that dirt lane, her cell phone has either no power or no signal, and she's starting to get desperate. At least she's covered quite a bit of distance, if the difference in terrain between the area she's walking through and the spot where Nate was buried is any indication. Finally a pickup comes rumbling along the road, and Claire steps out in front of it to flag it down. Kind of sucks for her to be in a position to have to ask for help from a stranger. And we know the pickup driver is a stranger to Claire because he doesn't run her over.

David's busy in the Body Shop, sewing up the artery hole on the CotW where the embalming fluid got pumped in. You suppose they gave the family a break on that, since they didn't have to use as much? Never mind, I'm not making fun. As everyone knows, the only proper time to insult the military service of a combat veteran is when he's running for public office. Forget I asked. Suddenly the CotW screams in pain, and David sprints backward until he crashes into the nearest counter. "I'm not dead!" CotW screams. David apologizes. "Sorry, I'm a funeral director," he sputters. CotW wails at David to kill him. David yells right back that "This is not fucking happening!" Finally, he's starting to get the hang of the dream sequences on this show. Too bad there's only one episode left. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, it is indeed not fucking happening. Instead, something else is: the CotW is calmly sitting up on the slab, with nothing on but the bandages on three of his stumps and the groincloth over the fourth. "Okay, maybe it isn't," the CotW says quietly, "but that doesn't mean you're not totally fucking alone." He says David's going to die just like everyone. David says he's "aware of the reality of death. I work with it every day." CotW's not buying; he insists that David is more scared than he's ever been. "You thought you knew what fear was when [Jimmy Felon] poured gas all over your head, but this?" CotW rubs in the fact that someday David will be dead, and he'll never see Keith or the boys again. David screams at him to shut up, and it actually works; in the next shot, the CotW is back to lying on the slab like a properly behaved stiff. Way to go, David; you killed him again. David tries to pull himself together. We don't get to stick around and see how that goes, but I have an idea.

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Six Feet Under

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