"Hello, sweetheart. Hop in!" Lafayette, terrified, immediately starts telling him he's trying his damnedest to sell the V -- seriously, whatever happened to Pussylover? -- but Eric tells him to chill, because the car is a gift and he's only there to deliver it. Satan in a Sunday hat, is what Lafayette is thinking. Eric apologizes for Pam's distinctly lacking sense of managerial noblesse oblige, pointing out the immense pressure she's currently under, and makes fun of Lafayette's "strange plywood hut," and Lafayette is searching the gift horse for other misplaced mouths he can look inside, but Eric's just loving this:
"You have great value, Lafayette. You're discreet, efficient, and you have a network of loyal customers with enormous disposable income. You could become quite wealthy if you wanted to." Lafayette is not interested in money, so much, these days. Eric doesn't get it, because he thought this was the way to Lafayette's soul, the way he always said it was. I wish I knew where this was going, because the Eric/Lafayette thing is intensely fucked up on like every level and I think this story could be major, like at the end of the season we'll be like, "WTF! It started with a car!" You know what I mean?
Arlene tries to break up with Terry, who assumes it's because he is irreparably damaged on the inside, and finally her love for him is so overwhelming that she just has to admit to him that it's because she's pregnant. Of course, he starts doing backflips like a circus poodle immediately, and he's so happy, so fast, that she realizes she can trust him. The baby was the last test, although she didn't know it until she said it, but it's fine: The burden of truth lies on her and her serial killer baby, but that's the only problem here. I mean, it's Terry, I'm so sure he would care. If he can overlook Arlene's essential horribleness, I'm sure somebody else's issue is not going to be a huge problem. But it's Arlene, so she's gotta fuck it up somehow. Oh, it's heartbreaking: "Thank you! Thank you, baby, I never dreamed in my life I could be so happy! Thank you for making my life mean something!"
Ouch. Meanwhile, out front, Joe Lee has ordered an entire tray of candy-colored shots for himself and his son, because if you're already deeply inappropriate what's a bit of underage drinking? Sam has to put his foot down -- not to question your absurdly horrible parenting, or anything, but I got a liquor license -- but Joe Lee is too far gone, and too jealous of his son, to really be reasoned with. It gets very C.O.P.S. at this juncture, all "You callin' me drunk?" and "Um, but you are drunk?" At one point Tommy giggles that if Sam throws a punch it'll prove he's one of them. But then Melinda yells at everybody and gets them the fuck out of there and apologizes and continues trying to act like there's a chance in hell Sam's not going to see them for the total trash that they are.