Tara comes home after a night of terrorizing people in her own way; the TV's blaring so loud she can hear it before she reaches the door. On the coffee table there's more trash culture: Angelina Adopts Vampire Baby, which is funny five different ways, Can True Love Survive Hollywood?, an empty vodka bottle. She looks down at her mother, passed out on the couch, and sighs; on the TV a man is attempting to name states. Lafayette's driving when his phone rings ("Pick up the phone, biaaaatch, witcha sexy ass! Pick up the phone, biaaaatch, witcha sexy ass!") and he answers politely. "Hello, hooker. What's the T?" Tara pours great mounds of sugar onto her Lucky Charms and asks where he is. "I'm on my way to a party in Monroe. And hell no, I ain't swingin' by to pick your needy ass up." She begs. "My momma's passed out on the coach, and I can't face cleaning her up and putting her to bed. It's just too goddamn depressing." What's depressing, he explains, is how often Tara makes this call. "Why come you won't call Jason Stackhouse?"

Tara explains that Lafayette is a mean, nasty bitch, and he informs her right back that she needs to move her sorry ass out of her momma's house. He says he'll come to rescue her, but she'll need to find her own ride home, in case he gets lucky. "What do you mean, 'if you get lucky'? Your standards are so low you always get lucky." He laughs and agrees with a holy hallelujah. It shouldn't be this fun to be Lafayette, and that's the secret of Lafayette.

Dawn comes to her door at three in the morning, to answer a panicked knocking; Dawn watches Jason through the peephole. He wanders in, dazed and uninvited; this is the prerogative of mortal men, that they don't have to be invited. He stumbles to her couch and stares at her, unseeing. "You have no idea what I've been through since last night. I spent the whole day thinkin' I'd really killed Maudette Pickens." Jason picks up a random beer from her coffee table, and sucks it down. Dawn sits beside him, stricken. "I thought I'd accidentally strangled her during sex," he says; Dawn's impressed. "And Bud and fucking Andy waited twelve! Whole! Hours! To show me a videotape that proved I didn't do it!" He starts to cry again, leaning into her arms. His body curls into hers. "I thought I'd ruined my whole life," he weeps, and puts his forehead on her chest. Everything is sex if you look at it right; Jason watches Jason make love to Dawn as though sex is still about pleasure, as though sex is only part of nature. Other people's bodies remind us that our own exist. Jason watches Jason do what Jason does best, as he kisses her breasts and focuses his body on hers. Dawn watches Jason make love to her, and laughs.