Stage. It's a James Bond sketch, with Allison fixing a drink for Tom's 007, who likes his martinis strong, "like my men." Nate Corddry sells that line, believe it or not. I'm sending out a helicopter right now to rescue him and Lucy Davis from the flaming wreckage of this show. When we get back, have lots and lots of wine at the ready. So Allison reclines on the couch and turns on some "mood music." Which is, naturally, the tommy-gun music that never played before. Cal's like, "Hey, better late than never!" Then, after a beat, the squibs beneath Allison's blouse finally fire. Okay, how fucking stupid are we supposed to be. She changed costumes -- at least twice! -- and never took off the squibs? No? I'm counting massive viewer contempt as Super Loud Meta Reference #6.
Lobby. Two obvious stoner kids amble up to the front desk. Skinny Stoner asks Security George for his cell phone. Fat Stoner is, of course, eating a candy bar. Oh ho-ho, score another one for Sorkin in his great battle against stoners who live with their parents. George produces the phone, then asks Skinny Stoner to sign for it. Sure, we all can see though his clever ruse, but how's The Littlest Lebowski here supposed to know that? So once he signs his name, the Feds swarm out and cuff the kid. Jack, Cal, and Gino strut out like Eliot Ness and the Untouchables, ready to make their big bust on these crank yankers. They even get Fat Stoner to admit he was part of the whole deal by asking him how he knows it was all "just a joke." "Because I was there!" says Fat Stoner. Man, these guys are easier to manipulate than the American public! Sorry, sorry. Some residual Idol forum chatter there. Cal gets the kid to clarify that there's no bomb (there's isn't), but Jack suggests cuffing them to the studio overnight just in case. Uh...I'm sure they'd prefer that to the alternative, dude. Unless they've heard tale of some of that sweet, sweet Gitmo weed. Jack asks about Muhammad, but Skinny Stoner can only bleat, "...Ali?" Oy. Jack gets all Mad Dad about "What were you thinking," and the scrubs get hauled away to wherever dumb subplots go. Maybe we can send those to Gitmo.
Mad dash to the goodnight announcement. Tom, condescending again, instructs a shell-shocked Allison on how to get through the good-byes: thank the audience, the cast, the crew, Matt and Danny, then say goodnight. I love that the guest hosts are instructed to thank Matt and Danny, even though hardly anyone ever thanks Lorne Michaels on SNL. Anyway, the cameras go live, and Allison starts her thank yous, until the bomb-sniffing dog scoots onstage and starts sniffing her crotch. Which is when she loses it and starts screaming about everything that's gone wrong tonight and how Matt and Danny and Cal can all go eat it. Cal cuts in on her earpiece, telling her he cut off her mic about 30 seconds ago, so now she just looks crazy on TV instead of looking and sounding crazy. He says he's turning her back on and if she can hear him, say "thank you." She does. It's actually a sweet scene between two performers who manage to have great chemistry even when they're not in the same room with each other. But take a gander at the words Cal is saying: