The Reward Of Sorts for the win last week is a cocktail party with the Five Crown Apprenti, Randal and Bill and the other ones I don't know. I remember how I was so convinced at the beginning of this season that Stefani was going to be the Tana, and how I always meant to say that but couldn't remember who Tana was or what season she was on. Isn't that weird now, though? Now that I remember her name, it's hilarious to compare that to Stefani, who's more like the -- I dunno, the Dixie Carter? The Truvy Jones! -- and not really a type we've seen on the show before. Trump declares his love for the Apprenti Assembled -- he's really expansive tonight, no? -- and cautions the kids that they have some "really tough weeks" ahead of them. A statement which seems simple enough, but contains so many different dimensions of false witness that it's almost shocking: this task is lame and easy, "weeks" is a lie every time he says it in any context, and they're being blatantly lied to about what's going to actually happen. On a scale of crawling right up Trump's ass as he's leaving, Nicole is on one end and Frank's on the other, which is surprising. I thought James was the permanent Manager of that Project, but Nicole gives him a run for his money -- and for Frank to be more invisible than Stefani, especially with Trump around, is quite confusing. Especially since Nicole's completely in the right to be up there, and the others should have joined her. After Trump and Son crawl back into the air ducts, to harass some other poor souls elsewhere, Nicole screams her face off about the Five Apprenti, who are only allowed out of their dungeon once every fiscal quarter, and Frank babbles at us about it at length. No matter how much they scream and babble, though, it's like meeting Ken Jennings or any other barely famous game show winner: funny to tell at a party, but not something that in and of itself makes you awesome, as they seem to think. Unless it's Wonderful Jim, and then I'm like in love with you through the transitive property. But he's not going to be at this party, so I'm allowed to think it's lame.
Over to Reg Bev Wil, where a fully unctuous individual helps them out of the car. Inside, Randal and the man they call Kelly are comparing dick size about their personal and team records. Now, either this is hilarious because they've not given that shit a second thought since they were able to escape the hellish Skinner Box of this show... or it's hilarious because they still think it matters. I was forgetting one of them through this whole part, I was like, there's going to be Kelly I never saw before, and Kendra or whoever that I won't recognize, and Randal, and the presumably terrified Bill. And that's all of them! Oh, how quickly we forget. Sean's Face right up in this hizzy. Never fails to freak me out. As our kids enter, the Crown Apprenti begin to clap, and through the magic of television, their tiny applause sounds like a Superbowl crowd. The room is spare, so even though this "party" is taking place in the sumptuous Reg Bev Wil, there's no defined space or anything, so it gives this echoing parking-garage impression of being the most boring drug deal gone wrong in the history of narcotics. I mean, who've you got? The howler monkeys of Arrow, in a space so large there's nothing for them to break or climb around on, facing off against the four people in the world judged so boring -- by even the exacting standards of this Procrustean show -- that they managed to win. That's like giving a fevered six-year-old Robitussin and then sitting them down for My Dinner With Andre. And there's going to be a quiz at the end. This cocktail party, in other words, constitutes child abuse.