Danza de-cabs at the market. Phil tells us that they have to buy five beetle larvae, one squid, and two chicken feet. I'd do the chicken feet okay, and I've eaten squid (though I found it disgusting), but the beetle larvae? Oy. They're wiggling and everything, right there in the bins. Shudder. Serving suggestion? They go great with red wine and Raid. Once they buy the food, the teams have to take it to what basically looks like part of a food court.

CCPP. Spanky 11, Brennan zero. Zippo, zilch, nada. Brennan chuckles pretty good-naturedly as he repeats the score. "Eleven-zero." Yup. When he loses the next point, he says he'll let it go to fifteen-zip, and then he'll maybe let Rob give it a try, even with the screwy finger. Spanky gets another one, to make it 13-0. "That's some good old-fashioned ass-kicking," Rob says admiringly in the background, and Brennan laughs. Heh. No kidding. You've got to give the boys credit for the good humor in this sequence, I think. At this point, Spanky nets one, and it's 13-1. Brennan raises his arms in triumph.

The market. Danza is explaining that they want exactly five beetle larvae.

CCPP. 14-1. 15-1. Up comes Rob, busted finger on the paddle hand and everything. His first shot is off the table. 16-1. Spanky's shot sails long. 16-2. Rob's shot sails long. 17-2.

Market. Margarita explains, "I'm getting a big giant squid." I'd point out that these aren't "big giant squid." There is such a thing as a "big giant squid," and you're not getting one, Margarita. Now eating that would be a Roadblock.

CCPP, where we're up to 21-2. Esquire is getting its ass thoroughly and decisively kicked. By Spanky. Who's twelve. Man, and you thought the guys at Bally's were gonna ride Brennan about the time he let Amie beat him over the fence at the Coliseum in Tunisia. He's never going to have peace now. Ever. If I were an Esquire buddy, I definitely think the next time I played one of them, I'd continually threaten to get on the Spanky-Phone and have him beaten soundly. "Don't make me call Beijing!" Anyway, Spanky's next shot is way off, and it's 21-3. I would point out that the twelve-year-old-ness of the opponent isn't keeping Rob from wearing his Competition Face -- that would be the grim, determined, I'd-chew-gum-if-I-had-any face. Spanky's off the table again. 21-4. Rob's in the net. 22-4. Rob's off the table. 23-4. Rob's in the net again. 24-4. Spanky flubs his next shot, and Rob emerges victorious, winning (?) by a final score of 5-24. Have I mentioned that Spanky is twelve? Rob and Brennan both shake the kid's hand, and they head out. They give their driver the address of the market, and off they go.