Cut to P.B. and the Samoan shredding Larice's application while watching Shaggy's tape. "Holy mother of God," gapes the Samoan, drooling.
Lizzie finds Steven, and isn't repelled by his maroon vest. "Heyyyy," she drawls flirtatiously. "I haven't seen you in forever! How are you?" Steven beams that he's absolutely fantastic. He's resplendent and transcendent. He's scrumtrilescent. Lizzie coquettishly asks him out to dinner so that they can catch up on each other's lives, and genitals. "I would, but I've got to get to the VA hospice to read to some veterans," he says. She's stunned. "That's so nice of you!" she exclaims. Steven smiles and pats her on the shoulder. "You know, it was nice of them to fight in a war for us," he tells her pleasantly. As he leaves, Lizzie lets her mild frustration show a bit, never having had anyone turn down a silver platter of her breasts before.
Gospel music plays over the next montage, which cuts between Steven's religious orgasm and Heath's increasing disconnection from the world. Steven sniffs the flowers and holds out his arms, free to embrace the world now that he's read Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and all the other fascinations The Good Book offers. Heath, meanwhile, pisses in the bathroom sink, and I guess we're meant to think his drunk ass never did that until this existential crisis. Uh huh. Steven smiles blissfully up at the sky as he lies on the grass; Heath strolls the hall in his boxers, blanket, and oily hair, and grabs a girl's ass. She shoves him away. He grins evilly. Steven studies the marvels of the mighty butterfly; Heath eats a ladybug, just because he can. Steven somersaults on the grass and reaches again for the sky, and Heath -- still in his boxer-blanket outfit -- walks in the middle of Ron and Shaggy's Frisbee game, steals the disc, and refuses to return it. Shaggy and Ron chase Heath, who starts smacking them with the Frisbee. Finally, Heath later pulls the fire alarm, which sends a panicked Lucien skipping out of his room and down the hall. "Fire, fire, fire, people!" he shouts, clapping his hands, the very picture of fey ineptitude.
Everyone lines up outside the dorm while the fire department investigates. Lucien is telling a fireman that he smelled smoke and fumes. Deadly fumes. Whatever, Lucien. Go make a bong out of Hillary's underwear drawer. Shaggy hears violin music and turns to see Suzuki and Larice at the end of the line. Larice is close to tearing off her own ears. "Crap, there's [Larice]," he whispers frantically. Larice waves at them miserably. Rachel half-heartedly returns the gesture. "Everybody's talking about the Poochy Party. What if she hears?" he worries. Rachel wonders if they should invite her, clearly feeling guilty about barring her from the room. Shaggy insists that it's a lousy idea, because it would bust up the Palace. "Plus, I hear her [sic] and Suzuki are getting along really well," he chirps. Larice reaches a trembling and menacing hand out toward Suzuki, then clenches her fist and whips her arm back to her side with considerable effort. She's insanely mad. And hilarious. I'm going to miss her.