The Shortest Spring In The History Of The American Northeast ends abruptly a mere four TV hours after Boston's last significant snowfall, as Sublime's see-how-Broadway-musicals-don't-automatically-make-you-gay cover of "Summertime" accompanies aerial shots of a verdant park under blazing sunshine. The camera, apparently affixed to the non-Earth-facing side of Mir, captures shots so damn high off the ground that they almost entirely obscure the California license plates on the slew of passing convertibles and the reality that this instant summer is, in fact, nothing more than the opening moments of a free recruitment film sent to high-school guidance counselors and scholarship athletes considering a collegiate stint at UC Santa Barbara. Because this don't look like no Boston I ever seen. Down on ground level, Montana and Sean are splayed across blankets on a patch of all-weather artificial turf and taking pains not to slam accidentally into the two-dimensional blue screen haphazardly labeled "Tahiti at high noon during draught season in the [scribble scribble scribble] I mean, 'Boston,'" lazing around in their tropical finery of sunglasses and shorts (put those things away please...both of you), basking under the hot, life-giving "floodlights." "Sun." I meant "sun." So, I guess it's summer now. Seems when the time finally comes for B/M to product-place the Club Monaco cruise line, all bets concerning that which involved the linear passing of time are permanently off. For a change.
From the horizontal position on the grass, Sean holds a piece of paper, from which he slowly reads aloud, "'Montana's crazy. Sean's childlike behavior...' What do you mean I'm acting childish?" Heh. Poor Montana. Inarguably crazy. We cut from Tahiti to a confessional, where Sean, clad in an actual ski parka (oh, yeah, it's sweltering, all right), plays Exposition for the Prosecution in letting us know, "I found a note written by Kameelah. And on the note was [sic] a few things -- or, or a few thoughts -- that Kameelah had in relationship [sic] to some members of the house." Way to get the point across there, Counselor. He holds the note up to the camera and deems it "Exhibit A," because his formal legal training at the "Perry Mason Institute For Crossword Puzzle Legalese" clearly served him well is his one day of matriculation before taking off for either a four- or five- or six-month stint on MTV.
On their way back to the firehouse, the two stop into a store of some kind containing a photocopy machine, Montana bitch bitch bitching, "She left it face-up in the bathroom for, like, three and a half hours." They put the note face-down on the machine as Sean assuages his own guilt that he won't feel when he sells the only remaining copy of said note back to MTV Books to be included in the glossy pages of Cold Discomfort Farm: A Boston Real World Retrospective along with Kameelah's list and a print-out of Genesis's boyfriends when he rationalizes, "She wanted to leave it there on purpose to see what we'd do with it." Looks like y'all picked the most mature available response, for a change. As they exit the too-cash-strapped-to-product-place ambiguous photocopy locale, Montana decides that Kameelah's actions are "pretty passive-aggressive." And for once I'll actually forego pointing out the hypocrisy here, seeing as calling attention to the ludicrousness of one person in that house noting another's passive-aggressiveness would be roughly akin to me feeling really proud of myself for discovering that a man has a toaster instead of a head in the "What's Wrong With This Picture" drawing on the back cover of Highlights For Children magazine. Because, come on.