Lizzie continues sliding toward Steven on the couch, and hornily pouts that she's not sure when the party will end, and she has a test tomorrow, so she's not sure how much sleep she can get in her own room. Steven offers her the couch. "I'll lay down the sheets," he says serenely. "It's surprisingly comfortable." Lizzie is stunned by his oily confidence. "Wait, what am I saying?" Steven laughs, smacking himself on the forehead in a fit of V-8 regret. "You can sleep in my bed!" Lizzie's like, "No shit, Sherlock Bones." Steven adds, "I'll sleep on the couch." Lizzie frowns a bit, then perks up. "How about this: why don't we both stay in your bed?" she urges suggestively. "We can keep each other up all night...." Steven points out that she already said she has a test the next morning. "I lied," she pants, leaning in to kiss him. Steven purses his lips and looks down. "Let's not do this," he tells her -- still serene, but now with a touch of pity. "See, the first time, we did it because we were lonely, scared, desperate, weak. That's why we gave into sin and lust." Lizzie cocks her head and stares at him, genuinely appalled. "There's an attraction between us -- that cannot be denied," he smirks self-importantly. "But if it ever happens again, it should be for the right reasons. And tonight, here, it feels so very, very wrong." Lizzie nods, freaked. "Yeah," she says. "Very wrong." Bible 1, Lizzie 0. This all cracks me up, because when I was fourteen and forced to go to classes each Sunday to earn my confirmation, my teacher always tried to be hip and reach out to the crazy youth of today. So he told us that Jesus was a major party animal -- hey, he hung out with hookers, didn't he? -- and was always the first dude on the dance floor, the first one to tip back his wine glass, and, yes, the first one in bed with all the ladies. And since Sunday School teachers never, ever lie -- even if what they're saying makes Jesus look like a giant hypocrite -- I have to believe that Jesus would've been completely okay with Steven getting jiggy. Although, continuing that logic, I would therefore also have to believe that the Detroit Pistons were sent by God to dominate global basketball courts, and that the path to salvation is through Nintendo.
Heath continues moshing with abandon. "I think the red is starting to freak everybody out!" wails Rachel. Shaggy insists it's a soothing color. He's trying to calm her down so that he can have his shaggy way with her. "This is not soothing!" she screams. Something breaks. Shaggy can no longer deny it: the party sucks. Heath moshes over there and yells, "That's what I told you, man! Life sucks." He dives back toward the crowd to cause more wreckage while Shaggy and Rachel struggle outside for air.