So for several weeks, it had appeared that John might be the rare reality show contestant who is moderately capable, reasonably decent, and a bit amusing. And then...the chain wallet. Well, really, it was "and then...Audrey," but it really gets going when we get to the chain wallet. See, the candidates have to go and visit celebrities to set up an auction-able "experience," Carson-Daly-style, and John decides he should take the lead, because he's the guy who's all down with the musicians and stuff. But it turns out that really, he's the guy who's all about himself, so he barely has time to explore possibilities for the auction. Oh, and Gene Simmons is so gross, and the poor BNL drummer almost has a heart attack when John wants to play his drums. But anyway, John fails to show any ambition in setting up the "experiences," unlike the very aggressive Tana and Craig, who weirdly make the perfect hip-hop promotional team (?). When a week with Moby and a week with Li'l Kim raise a bazillion dollars, a newly scrambled Magna (with Craig and Tana) beats a newly scrambled Net Worth (with Stephanie and Erin). In the Boardroom, it comes down to John and PM Chris, and for once, Trump decides that the person who did the screw-up should go, rather than the person who kept the screw-up person from committing the screw-up. But don't miss the fact that John is also paying the price for how he treated the task last week, because all of a sudden, it's like...they're onto him. At any rate, John takes a dive, making his one of the fastest and most appalling nosedives in reality show history. And what was his stupidest move of all? You got it: the chain wallet.
Previously on Audrey Cried The Day The Circus Came To Town: A golf task brought an already shaky Audrey to the shattering point when John, Chris, and Craig decided that it isn't necessary to listen to 22-year-olds, especially when they are (yuck) girls. Lacking either power or authority, and possessing absolutely none of the skills necessary to properly navigate a maze of dipwads, Audrey tried to make do with haranguing, which didn't work out so well for her. Despite the fact that Trump wasn't all that excited about Chris horking up tobacco juice in front of little children, Audrey's total inability to cope with what John was shoveling sent her home with nothing but stubby little pencils to remember the agony of the task by. Aww! Who can we get rid of now? Who? Who? Really, almost anyone's okay with me.
Night. Love Palace. Aspiring Corporate Weasel Death Watch. Tana asks a very nervous-looking Chris, currently hunched over like a prisoner waiting to be sentenced and looking kind of sad in his little suit, who he thinks will take the fall. Others think it might be Audrey, but Chris frets that "they're hitting John so hard." He pauses and adds, "John's my boy, and they're hittin' him." (It's actually more like "John's my buoy," but that's the affectation talking.) Tana, unfazed by the foxhole-like loyalty Chris is exhibiting, asks Chris what he would do if Trump fired John, and Chris looks like he totally has no idea. It would be just that traumatic and disorienting. I'm telling you, don't believe those courtroom outbursts, people -- Chris is in love. Just then, the suite door opens. "Craiggers! Angie!" Chris shouts. ("Craiggers"? EW.) And then he looks around the corner, sees John, and goes apeshit. Chris interviews that he was "extremely excited," as if you couldn't tell from the thumping power of that man-hug. He says that John is "like [his] big brother." So that's how it is in their family. Once they're all done congratulating the returning team members, Net Worth has a dorky hands-in-the-center cheer for itself. Of course, their theory is undoubtedly that there will be no more losing, now that they got rid of the person whose fault it all was. It's a strange brand of optimism that breaks out among recently shrunken teams. It always leads to such sadness and disappointment.
In an awesome interview, John crows about how they walked out of the Boardroom without any hurt feelings. Except Audrey's, of course, and they crushed her under the wheels, so there's no use crying over spilt milk! I mean, is this dink listening to himself? When you all agree on a scapegoat and you successfully have her banished, it's not like the rest of you have accomplished anything all that impressive by walking out as friends. Nothing brings people together, after all, like blame-shifting. The Department of Defense gives the best Christmas parties.