Jason looks down at his body for a second before remembering that he was a football player long ago. QB1, actually; Luke was a tight end, scholarship to A&M and the whole thing -- which we remember was like the Holy Grail for poor Jason long ago -- but blew out his knee. What followed was no doubt a muddled but very sincere thousand days of sorrow and deep introspection before Luke was finally celibate enough and Bibled enough and generally persistent enough to get into the Leadership Conference.
Meanwhile, of course, Jason started this journey of a thousand steps two days ago, to which Luke reacts with a weak sort of insult, and Jason tries to explain in his inimitable way: "Well, I didn't know about it till then. See, I was having breakfast with Steve and Sarah, and they asked me if I wanted to come..." And thus ends the brief bromance between Jason and Luke, not that Luke is conscious of it yet and not that Jason ever will be. He offers to bunk with Jason, the better to get or learn his luck or mojo, and Jason's moved and ecstatic, so much so that he says the word "shit" and is reminded gently not to swear. Then to chill Jason out, Luke starts everybody singing a super-scary racist song: "If you have doubt/ Just sing this verse/ They live forever/ But we were here first!"
Tara comes out of the house in a robe, in that timeless morningy time it always is at Maryann's, and Eggs is doing some topless gardening, as one does. Tara would seem to be taking this whole Empire of the Senses thing to a new extreme, talking about how he smells "nasty and nice, all at the same time" and how she'd like to bathe in his sweat. Go too far with this, and mark my words: At some point you stop overcoming the neurotic potty-trained division of self and environment and go straight infantile. Shitting your pants, eating dirt, the whole thing. Remember Jason in the garbage last year? That's where you're headed with this whole "embrace nature" bathing-in-sweat thing. Abandon is good, but it's only half the story.
Tara explains upfront that she's going to be interrogating him about himself, because she's starting to like him, and has a history of "putting the cart so far out in front that the horse can't see it," especially if that horse is Jason Stackhouse who can't even spell the word "cart," and he's like, but you already like me. True. "People usually take years unloading their baggage, so I'm just trying to figure out: what's the rush?" The rush is, of course, that Tara realizes on some level that she's stuck in a gingerbread dreamworld of magic and doesn't know where wishes stop and real shit starts, and going by Eggs's intense and vibrant abdominal-pectoral landscape, it's entirely possible that he is entirely imaginary, so give up some biography already.