This is it. This is the end. I can't believe it. C'mon, ladies. Ho one last time for Stee. Ho like you've never hoed before...
C'mon, let's dive right into the skank-invested waters, shall we? Previously: Eight New Couples headed out all over poor Costa Rica, sullying the island -- well, sullying it in ways other than the constant barrage of American college kids who go to buy and smoke massive quantities of weed and stare at birds. Debbie called it heaven. Kelley thanked Ali for the fucking...and a flower he picked for her. They're still trying to convince us that Shannon actually dug Kevin: she called him perfect, with absolutely no emotion on her face. John, with the same lack of anything in his voice, lied that it was hard to fight the attraction to Nayla. He gave her an ultra-chaste hug at the door of their ho-cienda.
Meanwhile, Edmundo, Catherine, Kelley, and Mark used the dates to do some shit about deepening bonds of passion and crap. (In other words, they all fucked like bunnies.) Catherine lied that it was a perfect evening, already so moving back in with Edmundo.
As Nikkole repeatedly gave it to one of New York's Bravest, Tommy wasted a perfectly good Katie, instead just moping about Nikkole being busy giving new meaning to the word Tommyknocker.
After the dates. Emotional farewell. Nayla thanks John for letting her try out the absorbency of his soul patch. The hos horse off. Then the couples cry with the harsh realization that their new loves are gone...but more importantly, their wack-ass fifteen minutes of pseudo-fame are coming to a swift and unpleasant end. And then there's the final bonfire, deciding the fate of their relationships...and marking the end of Mark L. Walberg's career.
Bonfire. Kelley. Slo-mo. Walking. Nothing moves. You know why. The Music of Mark L. Walberg's Hideous Purple Shirt plays as His Toolship repeatedly calls her "Kell" and gives her an unreturned hug. The producers rethink not scripting lines for Mark L. Walberg as he can only come up with "This isn't easy." Kelley agrees, since she has to. Desperate to end the uncomfortable one-on-one meeting with Mark L. Walberg, she says she's ready to face her sucky man. Mark L. Walberg fucks up and talks to the camera, asking them to bring in Mark. Yeah, that's it for Mark L. Walberg. Apple One here you come.
Mark swishes out in slo-mo, and Mark L. Walberg advises them that this is not a dialogue, but a chance for each of them to talk and then be heard. Mark is first. "Speak from your heart," Mark L. Walberg says, his own heart already shattered into a million pieces by everyone from his parents, to classmates, to dogs who've all run away, to the seven women he's managed to get to agree to sleep with him over the years. A million pieces. He goes on that Mark is then to decide the fate of their very-real-and- totally-not-fake-at-all relationship. Mark pretends to care.