ANY-way, after a few seconds of that, we cut back to Kevin's bedroom just as his cell phone starts buzzing on his desk, and it's his very best friend in the whole entire world, Vaguely Insulting Overachieving Asian-American Stereotype: Female Version, calling to commiserate with Kevin over Princeton's rapidly-dropping acceptance rate and their impending SATs. And I know I really shouldn't get caught up in tiny little details like this so early in the episode but: It's May of these kids' senior year. Why are they still worried about entrance exams and college applications? Who the hell got Glee all over my Supernatural, goddammit? Oh, and while I'm bitching about the sorts of tiny little things this show used to get right but hasn't in a very, very long time, Vaguely Insulting Overachieving Asian-American Stereotype: Female Version's area code is 240, which is Maryland. Shut up, show.
Of course, now that I've talked myself out of any interest I might have had in what those two have to say to each other, I'm left with little choice but to ignore them completely in favor of heading back to South Chicago, where Our Intrepid Heroes are just now lifting their sneakily-stolen block of prehistoric clay from its protective case to clunk it down on a convenient wooden table. "Lot of fuss over a caveman Lego," Dashing El Deano grunts, and with that, he and Darling Sammy carefully don protective eyewear -- which is desperately ludicrous in a surprisingly funny way -- so Dashing El Deano might begin chiseling away at the thing to find out what's inside. "CHONK!" goes the mallet. "RUMBLE!" goes the sky far above their heads. Dashing El Deano cocks a quizzical brow at Darling Sammy, all, "My, but that was an odd coincidence, don't you think?"
Meanwhile, over in Michigan, Kevin cracks open a can of soda as lightning flickers outside his bedroom windows. DUN!
Warehouse. "CHONK!" goes the mallet. "CRASH!" goes the sky far above their heads. "That sound like somebody say, 'No! Wait! Stop!' to you?" Dashing El Deano inquires. "Uh, yeah," Darling Sammy replies, so Dashing El Deano of course whacks the block of prehistoric clay with his mallet again. And again. And again, and again, and again, until the prehistoric clay crumbles away, and those first few warning rumbles up in the sky metastasize into a raging, Midwest-wide lightning storm. Uh oh.