Back in the linear, non-rhyming-couplet-esque world of character development, Sean admits in a confessional, "Syrus is the first really black friend that I've had." His first "really black" friend? As opposed to all of those multi-shaded, chameleon-esque friends of Sean who have fallen somewhere within the raw umber/burnt sienna color spectrum who don't necessarily qualify as "really" black? The country mouse/really-black-city-mouse juxtaposition continues into Syrus's confessional, in which he helpfully elaborates, "We are complete opposites." No. Really? Then why has nothing been said of this fascinating dichotomy before now? Oh, wait. It has. Every six seconds. "I'm a city boy. He's a Wisconsin boy. I'm from the warm weather. He's from the cold weather." Wasn't this a Paula Abdul song with an animated cat in the video? Back in the firehouse, Syrus suggests that Sean come with him "to the hood" sometime, and then we're back with Sean's confessional, telling us, "We come from really different walks of life. So we both have a lot to learn from each other." And the two hit the street together and head away from the firehouse, Sean perpetually enthralled that the pages of his junior high National Geographic subscription have finally come to life, yielding the sociological experiment he has misconstrued for a legitimate friendship. Shut. Up. Sean.
Back at the firehouse, Jason is helping Genesis with the complex machinery known as "the internet machine" and Elka approaches them, as if she's just walked into the house for the first time ever, to ask what they're looking for. Jason replies that their search concerns, "lesbian stuff," and I wonder momentarily why Genesis would need a web sherpa for this particular world wide journey, considering both her frequent forays into the world of internet smut as well as the fact that in 1997 you could pretty much just smash your palm flat on the keyboard, type ".com" after whatever that yielded, hit "enter," and end up at a site that at least linked to copious, unregulated photos of naked women, if not a major supplier of them itself.
And back to a Jason-oriented confessional (which looks like it was recorded on or around the time of his fifteenth birthday, what with the pre-pubescent "Bar Mitzvah Boy" moustache and the surprising appearance of what appears to be a rather ferocious mullet), he endears us to him and his deeply loving relationship with his "girlfriend" not even one bit with the admission, "In all my relationships in my past, every relationship I've ever been in, I have cheated on my girlfriend. I have never been able to be faithful." Uch. Back in the living room, Jason expresses to Kameelah, Sean, Montana, and Syrus that he is interested in a lot of other girls and he would "like to sit down and kiss them," adding just so there's no ambiguity, "I want to smooch on big, fatty lips." Yuck yuck yuck. A thousand times yuck. And I mean that. Cut to the well-edited sound of a ringing phone, where the aforementioned "Timber" phones the firehouse with the happy "surprise" that she's coming to visit in, like, one second. For a week. Jason hedges more than common courtesy will allow, asking if maybe she wants to avoid Boston, where it's "the zero degrees," telling her that she would benefit to "just stay there." Because if I were cold weather's natural enemy, I'm sure I would choose instead to remain in the tropical paradise of February in Boulder, Colorado. Realizing this diversionary tactic may be in the process of failing him, Jason brilliantly just opts for a big, honking lie: "I want you to come. I want you to come," as a confessional finishes up, "I'd rather her just stay away for the six months." Thank you, ironic intercut voice-over. But in this situation, we didn't even need the back story to know what an inveterate hypocrite this swarthy bastard really is. You can tell. You can just plain tell.