Let it go, Sean. Let. It. Go. Over in a confessional, he prattles on about wanting to end their experience on the show just as it began, making sure eateries around town get their product-placed dime's worth, again mentioning this so-called "Artu." By the way, in his confessional, Sean is wearing a navy blue button-down shirt with the collar so far up that he looks like he's taking his final exam at The Elvis School of Fashion: The Unfortunate, Later, Puffy Years. And I'm just sayin': A+. He says it again: "I'd like to leave my last night here the way we spent our first night together." Sing along if you know the words: "And that would be at Artu." Put the collar down, porn star. Actually, he looks more like The Count. "One! One pathetically calculated attempt to manufacture a cohesive thematic arc at Artu. Ah! Ah! Ah! Two! Two million times Sean will replace the words 'the,' 'and,' and 'a' with the word 'Artu.' Ah! Ah! Ah!" And so on.

Outside on the dark, dark Boston night, Kameelah and Genesis walk into a deli of some kind, Kameelah barking, "Why do we have to relive this nightmare?" Heh. Point. Counterpoint. And given the choice between the loser and the bitch, I'll always pick the bitch. Always. And watch out for concealed ice on the sidewalk, ladies. After all, it's only June!

Montana notes to the aforementioned three, "Kameelah. I don't like you. But dammit, we went through the exact same thing together. I will remember you for the rest of my life." Kameelah isn't even there. I see it's role-playing drama exercise time. Maybe next she'll do the one where she "trusts" Syrus enough to fall backwards into his arms. But he's already gone. Sleeping with my mama. Shut up, Montana. See? Loser.

Back outside, Kameelah lays it down: "I'm not going." Genesis says that if Kameelah isn't going, she isn't going either. But then Jason won't go either, "and that's gonna piss off the other four." Kameelah, suddenly throwing a ball up in the air (where'd she get that? I guess I didn't hear when she was all, "Come with me to the deli! I really need a ball!" The hell?), responds, "And I care because why?" See? The other thing.

Sleepy, sleepy morning around Boston. Sean opens the front door of the firehouse to see Poor, Poor Anthony (note to Real World trivia buffs: this is the first time he has not been identified by The Squiggly Hip Font Of Character Introduction this entire season) shepherding a gaggle of CCC kids in the front door. The Sneaky Theme plays while they walk silently up the steps and assemble in some kind of formation in the living room. Jason asks them if they're "ready," and the song "Put a Little Love in Your Heart" roars to life. A choreographed dance ensues. Oh, my God. I've had this exact nightmare dozens of times. Except with me, they're midgets instead of children, and instead of hastily constructed similar costumes, they're all wearing really elaborate clown suits. And the song is "Eye in the Sky" by the Alan Parsons Project. God. That song scares the shit out of me. ["I had this bizarre fascination with that song when I was a kid! Seriously. My best friend in grade three -- Joelle -- and I for some reason decided it was our favourite song and every time one of us heard it on the radio, she would phone the other up to tell her. I don't remember why." -- Wing Chun] Um. Anyway. The kids run and laugh and dance and joke and frolic as kids should, and the housemates all unthankfully climb their sorry asses out of bed. This includes the literal ass of Genesis, who inadvertently shows her upper thigh to the camera upon her bed dismount; said thigh shines brighter than the seven suns of the Planet Lesbia, infecting all who dare to stare directly into its rays with a lifetime of same-sex taboo. And that Jessica girl thought she had a chance to escape from such an imminent danger unscathed. Sorry, but that's not how it worked out, L'il Ellen. We learn from a Kameelah confessional that Anthony and the kids stormed in at "about seven in the morning," and she and Sean agree in separate confessionals that everyone thought it was "great." Everyone. Oh! Everyone except for Montana, who doesn't get out of bed. She hopelessly tells us in voice-over, "It was really hard. I didn't want to lie to the kids." Poor, Poor Anthony faces his nemesis, asking Montana where she's working. He listens long enough to make sure that none of the Sting Operation Keywords of "children" or "halfway house" or "recovering addicts" are mentioned before telling her that they'll all be downstairs having breakfast. That's too bad. When it's called "brunch," you're allowed to have mimosas. And isn't that why the kids are there?