Joyous boys in their misspent youth. The Jock Ensigns are heading past some bushes toward Crater Lake. An ominous sign reads, "No swimming. No fishing. No skating." And definitely no flying, Clark. You hear me?
Back at Chloe's afterglow, Clark sits down next to her and asks if she just gave StudShawn her number. Chloe says that guys find her attractive even though she doesn't have raven hair and the initials "L.L." Ooh, burn. Clark says StudShawn is a "dog." Chloe tells him to relax, and that she only gave him her number to get rid of him. And to shed all vestiges of credibility and dignity from herself. It's winter: she was starting to molt. She says they need to find their taxi, Pete. I could go on a whole tangent here about how typical it is to have the token minority character be the chauffeur, but this intro has already exhausted me.
Jocks at play. Jocko Whitney and StudShawn are tossing around the pigskin, although the subtext is that they'd rather be slapping around some lambskin. Jocko asks StudShawn why he was talking to Chloe. "Another notch, dawg," he says, and I want to be nauseous, but I can't because my friends and I in high school used to call scoring "stabbing the cat." So, obviously, I have no room to call this guy anything. "That's cold," Jocko says. Ha! Because he's going to be all Iceman later! Heh! Hee hee! You get it, Buck?
Buck: Does all your recapping take this long?
StudShawn is backed up against the icy lake as he and the jocks throw the football. Jocko Whitney notices that the pizzas have arrived and throws the ball too far, landing it right on the ice. StudShawn says he'll get the ball, and tells Jocko to go on ahead. Suddenly everyone and everything in the world disappears except StudShawn and the football on the ice. He starts after it and slides. We hear no party music. See no party truck headlights. We can't even smell the damn pizza. He's all alone. And I think he's gonna die. StudShawn walks out onto the dangerous ice for the $9.95 football. He makes it over, mouth open, but half smiling. He retrieves the ball, and now it's smooth sailing back, right? No! We need a villain of the week, dammit! On the way back, StudShawn hears the ground creak loudly in protest of his weight. Instead of booking it, and running across the lake, Jesus-style, StudShawn just stands there. He moves slowly and laboriously, letting his full weight press down on the ice. Then, it breaks. He is dunked in the icy water. Immediately -- like, less than a second later -- the water above him has already iced over and his burly football arms can't break through it as he ineffectually slaps at the surface.