Landon and Shavonda clutch each other. I feel like we're all trapped in the space between them, don't you?

Rolly suitcases. This is so hard for both of them, dragging out this soulless, loveless goodbye. They cry and kiss and clutch and weep and moan and curse and wish they had more time, more time! God -- why is fabricated love so cruel? When does any of this make sense? Why can't your fake boyfriends be the real boyfriends you're going home to? Gah! Tears and music and tears and weeping and sweat and pondering and pontificating and moaning and please end the show. "To be continued," they threaten us. Kissing. Kissing. Shavonda and Landon lie to the world, declaring they're each other's best friends. Shavonda leaves, but her mic's still on so we hear her "weeping."

Landon catches a ferry and wins Profound Thought of the Year: "Whenever I think of Philadelphia? I'm gonna think of...my six roommates!" Landon realizes that his eyes have now been opened to all the things his weird-ass roommates already had their eyes opened to: "I just pray to God that I've done the same for them." That's what he says. Look, my job is to just tell you what he said, not to try to make any sense out of it. And hey, give him a break. He just fake broke up with his not-girlfriend who was a dependable booty call on the nights he couldn't find a hook-up from a random stranger who wanted to be on MTV. The boy's upset.

Hey, Austin, turn these motherfuckers out. Don't let them anywhere near Kerbey, Magnolia, The Drag, Trudy's, Texadelphia, Town Lake, Oltorf, the Arboretum, Amy's, Thundercloud, Sixth Street, Eeyore's Birthday Party, or the warehouse district. And for God's sake, don't let them meet any of my friends. Keep Austin Weird!