OMG, the title is a pun. I can't believe I didn't figure that out in three whole weeks. Dang. Okay, so here's the deal: DEA agents Till and Schlatter are sleeping together. Doug is keeping Mermex Maria as a prisoner of his lust, and she's going nuts; Andy is aimless as usual. Shane is having threesomes with Goth skanks, and Silas is selling weed out of a cheese and sandwich shoppe. Celia is in a scary, scary rehab place with a crackhead who draws the line at getting fucked with mannequin legs -- if they're still wearing shoes. Nancy's dating the mayor of Tijuana, who is also running the entire border, and loves him; however, now that her spirit guides won't let her ignore the guns and sex slaves also coming through the tunnel, she's gone to Till. We meet again.
Nancy's still playing with her Rubik's Cube from two weeks ago, and knows that Schlatter is somewhere in the trees, listening into their conversation. She asks Till for "assurances," specifically: "Everything I ask for, I get." He says he's not her daddy, but she assures him she's not fucking around: this is information that very few people have. She issues her demands, which amount to nobody getting screwed in her crew by this bust, but most especially herself and her family: nobody puts her name on paper, nobody says it, her family doesn't have to go into hiding or Witness Protection, because there will be no reason for them to do so, because she doesn't exist. He agrees and finally interrupts her infinite loop, and she breathes. "There's a tunnel."
Scary crackhead lady from last week is telling another story. Bet it's awful! And awesome! Celia rolls her eyes, as usual, as the woman describes finally going to a foster home to see her son, who says, "Lady, I ain't your kid." Which she thought was the saddest thing in the world until that record title was immediately stolen by her next realization, which was that she was so fucked up she'd actually wandered into the wrong house. "It was so devastating, I miscarried right there." HA! Celia finally breaks.
"I thought I'd hit bottom. But after hearing your stories, I realize it could be so much worse. The truth is, none of you have any chance in hell of ever pulling your lives back together -- if you even had lives to begin with. I am the only one here that has any chance at all. A chance to make amends and to start over. Fresh." She takes her purse and bounces, to I'm sure terrify and annoy everybody she's ever met, and the group leader just shakes his head. "Stupid-ass bitch," he says when she's gone, and oh, how the crackhead lady laughs at that.