Andy jumps away from some rogue boobs poolside, backing into Mike and Jane, who laugh. It's scary for everybody, but especially Andy. Jane yells at Mike to keep dancing, and he motorboats her wildly: "Jane Bodehouse, you are one fiery little hellcat!" That's a thing once seen can't be undone, but I love the whole swinger thing, because the PR is that it's all these amazing hairless people and the guys have mustaches but you know the reality is Mike Spencer's pot belly and Jane Bodehouse's flopping breasts. I mean, sex is sex and nobody's perfect, but what I think is really remarkable is certain situations, like when you're in love for one example, or for another random example a wild Bacchanalian orgy, in which the two things are the same thing. Those postal workers and whatever are beautiful to each other, and if a fat old swinger fucked you in the forest and nobody was there to see it, you're as lovely as you wanna be. So there's at least three different ways to look at this, but the most sensible I think is Andy's approach, which is to flee.

In one corner of Maryann's yard there's a little garden house, like a playhouse or Wendy's house of leaves, with foliage growing up over it. It's lovely. Andy leans in and sees the big red pig, and his eyes get wide. "What you doing in there, Pig?" Heh. I wish he'd talked to the pig longer, but Maryann appears and welcomes him to the party. He says, and who knows, that there have been noise complaints. "Oh. And they sent their best detective to deal with it? Well, I am flattered. But Sheriff Dearborne should really put your talents to better use." God, I love Maryann. Andy nods, and she promises perfectly sweetly to turn off the music. She looks especially great, of course: hair up, strings of jewels through it and a little hanging down, like a Roman goddess.

"Hate to be a party pooper, but you got a livestock permit for that pig?" Maryann laughs and asks what Andy's talking about, but the pig is of course gone. She giggles at him and asks if he's been drinking, and he gets red-faced and swears he's a good cop. She awws and throws her arms around him. "Of course you are, everybody knows that!" She holds out a glass of champagne, and insists he relax. How long his sobriety? How long did it take for her to raze it again? Sobriety is the monster of Maryann. Might as well just kill her. But he's an addict, he's one of hers. "Just one. I am on the clock." She laughs, and pulls him toward the party, affectionate and beautiful and wise. "Come on!" She's a force of nature. She won't be blocked, or undermined.