We zip over to the farmers' market. Roger asks the local fishwife how fresh the whitefish is, and she assures him "it practically leapt into my husband's boat this morning." This gives Susan an entree to talk about the hilarious fishing mishap, and this news of the failure on the part of both men who have boned Susan, Object of Desire, prompts Roger to buy a lot of fish.
Back at the cabin, Bruce is in heaven: it's a Janet-free zone and his mancrush Tom is currently topless and flexing the ol' pecs as he chops wood. I don't blame Bruce; it is a little hard to believe Grant Show is closer to 50 than 40. We find out that Tom was a former scout, but beyond wood-chopping, not much stuck: "I can still light a fire, rig a sail, and whittle a tiny totem pole." Bruce: "You whittle?" Tom: "Oh, yeah. Big whittler." Never has a discussion about whittling sounded so porny. Bruce then apologizes about the Thompsons showing up, and Tom demonstrates a sort of big-heartedness with, "Don't worry about it. Wherever the party is, that's the party I'm at." And then -- oh, god, still more talk about the marriage and the swinging and the sex because these people spend more time yammering about it than doing it. Janet comes up right then with a Tupperware pitcher of fresh lemonade, and Tom's all, "Hey! What's cooking, good-looking?" Unaccustomed to such positive male attention, Janet replies, "What's cooking are ... my brownies. World-famous recipe." Tom continues his seduction of every biped in a ten-mile radius by cooing, "If they're anything like your lemonade, we're in for a treat." Then he asks, "You ever see a man split a log, Jan?" So thrown by the charm offensive is she that Janet doesn't even correct Tom before conceding she has not. Bruce invites her to enjoy the show, as he's off to tend to things in the house. And Janet does enjoy it.
Bruce goes inside and discovers that Trina's spiking the world-famous brownies with several kind buds. And far be it for me to correct such a knowledgeable hedonist as she, but I think she might have wanted to go for the extra oomph that comes from extracting the THC into butter, then using that for the cooking. An old roommate, who was like the Alton Brown of stoners, swore by the method. Bruce and Trina's amiable exchange comes to an end when a visibly tense Roger and Susan come back in. As Trina puts the brownies in the oven, you can practically see the thought bubble reading, "Oh, thank God for marijuana."