Cut to the surprisingly touchy-feely burgeoning relationship between Syrus, Sean, and Jason, out at a bar drinking and then back in the firehouse slapping each other repeatedly on the back of the neck. We learn that Syrus believes that Jason is a "cool guy," and that when it comes to Sean and Syrus, well, Jason "dig[s] them both." Awwwww. Continuing montage of the three faux-wrestling in towels and underwear, and I miss a few seconds of screen time looking up "male-bonding, gay-themed" in the As-Yet-Unexplored Themes section of my Real World Guide to Why Every Freakin' Season is Starting to Look Exactly the Same as the One Before It manual and finding this entire sequence cross-referenced. Syrus kicks back in a confessional and lets us know what's what: "Sean is, y'know, my boy. Jay's my boy too but Sean's, y'know, my boy." Back in the firehouse, I continue to have no freakin' clue what the three of them are talking about. I even need to employ the assistance of the closed captions, which provides little assistance in matters of clarity. Syrus: "We'll see who's got the verbal milk, or the verbal baggage, to carry the rest of the green and the cabbage. Whatever you want to do, I'm down to do. Me and you, one crew, one diggity-two. Brother Sy, never through." Then he throws a hat at Sean and departs from the room with the strangely triumphant, "Go drink a brew." What? WHAT? Jason averts his eyes as successfully as possible from this tidal wave of sheer pointlessness, staring into a suddenly fascinating past journal entry or two and doubtlessly thinking, "Unless something has changed in the house / While I sit here and indulgently grouse / Terribly imagined and even more terribly delivered spoken word free associations while we're on MTV's lease / Are really more my area of expertise." Ooooh. I think I just channeled Jason. I hope my head doesn't explode. Or if it does, that the debris doesn't stain one of my many cool-guy knit caps or pairs of yellow-tinted sunglasses I have, for some mysterious reason, recently acquired.
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.