Oy. Another semi-break-up scene. At least this one takes place inside the visually interesting confines of the giant plastic pyramid. And it's also a lot easier to summarize, because the characters are finally beginning to realize the truths we've already known about them for the entire season. Lisa confesses that she's just as unhappy with things as Nate, and is even gracious enough to admit that it's not entirely his fault that marriage hasn't transformed him into the perfect, loving super-spouse she was expecting. "It's good that we tried, though," she says. "I think we had to try." Suddenly faced with the prospect of actually going through with his desire to leave, however, Nate quickly backs down. "But don't you think we could maybe now just start from a different place?" he asks. "Maybe it's enough to just stop pretending. Without all the pressure to be something we're not." Lisa grasps at this straw like a woman with the last life vest on the Titanic, especially when Nate says that this is the only way they'll be able to know they "really tried." They manage to bask in the glow of their marriage-saving relief just long enough for Nate to observe that "these fucking pyramids really do work," and then Brenda picks the worst possible moment to enter the pyramid herself. No one seems willing to comment openly on the ex-girlfriend elephant in the…uh, pyramid, so instead our little threesome quickly degenerates into self-diagnostic psychobabble. Brenda thinks the pyramid is "horrible plastic version of a sacred space." Lisa thinks it indicates that "modern life isn't so bad." Nate just babbles about continuity and history, which demonstrates that he's only capable of intelligent self-diagnosis when his dead father is in the room. We end with a shot of Nate putting his arm around Lisa, while his eyes remain tightly focused on Brenda. One can only assume he's asking himself, "What would Ra do?"
Fade to later, as Claire and Russell sit on the floor of the nearly empty gallery. Just as she's about to implode with despair, some guy walks past and puts a little sold sticker on her photograph. He tells her it was purchased by a "Fifi Rochedale," but Claire is smart enough to figure out right away that "Fifi" was Russell's cat, and "Rochedale" was the street he lived on, which means that he used his porn name as an alias to buy her picture. That's actually really sweet, but "Fifi Rochedale" is a horrible porn name. And I can say that because mine is Shane Shagbark, which gets bonus points for alliteration in addition to the vague allusion to arboreal naughtiness. ["Yeah…'Dingleberries Rowan.' Nope, not kidding. Top that, sucka." -- Sars] "It's a good investment," explains Russell. "That thing is going to be worth so much more in five years." You are so right about that, my friend. I'd totally pay at least five times that for it on eBay. What do you suppose the chances are that an entrepreneurial member of the props department is reading this?
Elsewhere in the gallery, Billy and Brenda search for Zhora, who has mysteriously disappeared. Or maybe she just found a ride of her own. That line will also be funnier in a few minutes. Sort of.