Outside, Adam sees a poster of midget wrestlers and, once again, goes off on Langly.
Back at the Gunpad, Langly holds a fake-looking piece of meat to his eye and complains. Dude, really, go home. Oh right, these guys never go home. Typical publishers, work all freaking day and night, never leave the office. Except for Internet geniuses Wing Chun and company, who frequently make jaunts to exotic locales. Dude, sometimes we writers are even invited along. Cannot WAIT for our summer convention. Anyways, Yves sees if the video camera image of Adam's "wife" will set him off too, and he's all like, Lois! My beautiful wife! Frohike and Yves bust out with their theory (not Gilligan's Island fueled) that Adam is Doctor Lady's lab rat and that during transportation, he just wandered away. Dude, this is the same structure I hate about the X-Files, where we get to see everything going on, and the main characters have to figure it out. We KNOW Adam was kept in a tub of goo. We know Lois isn't his wife, and we know it's all not really important. GET TO THE MIDGET WRESTLERS ALREADY. Yves says Lois said Adam was undergoing therapy. Some kind of midget wrestling aversion therapy? Television huckster aversion therapy? Langly-bashing therapy? Then, Adam stares at Frohike, Frohike morphs into a midget wrestler, and Adam pounces, screaming "I am not you! I will never be you! Never!" Seems like the therapy is working well.
GodDAMN, those cereal-and-milk bars look disgusting. What's the milk stuff supposed to be, the stuff between Oreo cookies? Jesus, don't feed your kids that.
Gunpad. They're watching midget wrestling on TV. Dude, WHAT CHANNEL?! The Midget Frohike wails on some other masked wrestler. Adam stares blankly, then takes the tape out of the VCR and stomps on it. Dude, I was watching that! Langly, rocking a Dead Kennedys shirt, gets mad but reels it in because Adam tends to go off on people. Yves says the midget Frohike has been dead for years (God rest his wrestler's soul), but he has a daughter. Let's check her out, already.
Ding-dong. A little lady opens the door. By little, I mean…oh, you guys are smart, you figure it out. It's Marvin the TV schmuck ringing her bell, and by ringing her bell, I mean, it seems like he's banging her. He brings her flowers; she snubs him; he asks her if she thought about what they talked about; and she says she isn't divorced yet, and that she knows he doesn't love her after that crack he made. "You mean when I said it takes a little lady to get me off big?" Jesus, I just can't make fun of this stuff this week. Is it because the show is really, really good, or that I'm going to Las Vegas on Wednesday and can't think of anything mean to say? Please don't fire me, Wing Chun. Anyway, he says that she loves that he's a pig, she agrees, and then he sweeps her up in his normal-sized arms and they go off to do it. Have fun, guys.