Inside and sitting, Sean endears himself to Syrus as much as possible for someone who has repeatedly shared his family's rustic beliefs that the three-fifths compromise is still a widely-held political policy in certain parts of the country, defaming instead another entire cross-section of the world's populace in declaring, "I gotta straighten some things out in the house. Just about women." Syrus and Sean engage in the secret, anti-feminist handshake of the highest Stonecutters order and Syrus agrees, "All these women act so innocent. You know damn well, they're all witches. They all have witch sides." Um, witches? Are you kidding? Nice try, Syrus, but even thinking yourself unceasingly clever by employing your Police-Academy-edited-for-prime-time vocabulary doesn't remove the sexist overtones of the word you really want to use. Man, that Montana sure can be a witch, eh? That Kameelah can be on the witchy side herself, too. Witches, witches everywhere. At which point in the diatribe, Syrus turns to the waitress and orders himself a tall, cool frosty weer. I hear his favorite brand is "Wudweiser." That is, of course, unless he'd like to go for something a bit stronger, in which case I'm sure Syrus can order the table a nicely aged bottle of straight up, down home Jim Beam Kentucky Wourbon. That is, unless any of those witches show up and spoil the woys' wig wash. Geddit? I hope so.
Syrus voice-overs a recap of last week's entire plot in letting us know, and not for the first time, that "Montana brought up to Anthony about me dating parents at the social center," and Sean helps the first-time viewer of this wacky new medium called "television" that "Syrus was very upset again at Montana." Really? Oh. And then, "He didn't think that she had any right to tell Anthony what she did." What she did? Or what she told him? Huh? Shut up, Sean. ["And he's a lawyer now, folks." -- Wing Chun]
Under what we're supposed to believe is the darkest cover of late-night darkness (which, in Boston, means "any time after 2 PM or before 1 PM"), Oily Bohunk walks into the firehouse, dragging the inhuman grotto-dweller he clubbed over the head and dragged back to his cave while she was in the process, it seems, of knocking over a particularly well-stocked Claire's Boutique. Syrus's Jane is even Plainer than usual, and as they retire to the pool room, Kameelah spots the foursome on the monitor and astutely notes the presence of "more hoochie mamas." Yup. The phone rings in the living room at a time the editors would like us to believe is "2:00," as indicated by a non-sequitur singular shot of a clock that doesn't actually appear anywhere in the room. Montana and Syrus happen through the living room simultaneously, and Montana observes, "Tell them it's too late to be calling." Syrus: "Says who?" Montana: "Says me." Syrus: "Snarky comebacks ain't my forte. I'm a lover, not a fighter, oh ye Queen of the Witches." Um, no. Syrus doesn't really say that. But I might just have been able to fish out one iota of respect for him from my Sea of Hatred if he had, I'm sayin'. Instead, he blathers something about how he'll be "up until 5." Clearly. Over in the bathroom, Montana smokes and broods while Kameelah smolders and listens, as Montana vents, "I just think that's disrespectful. I would never call anybody that late." Man, if the producers had any real eye for the cycle-completing irony we ultimately came to see in this seasons's Syrus/Montana story arc, the phone would have rung again at 2:01, and it would have been for her. Maybe a single father calling from the center, telling her what a wonderful time he had on their date. Maybe he'd offer to take her out for a glass of wine. With his kids. Sometime. Wine with the kids. Sometime. Anyway, everyone's mad.