Up next is a montage of Mary's paranoia, during which she scours every cranny of Rachel's room in search of evidence of debauchery. She taste-tests carrots and baby powder, checks the blinds and the stereo, the computer, the closet, and the fridge, and finally flops on the bed with a relieved and satisfied smile on her face. But then she makes eye contact with the plush frog. It's grinning at her. We cut back and forth between the two parties in this showdown. Mary's all, "Don't look at me like that," and the frog's all, "Don't talk to me that way, I ain't yo' ho!" and Mary's all, "I'm gonna slap that smirk off your face, bitch," and the frog's all, "You just frontin'," and Mary's going, "It's go time, you slutbag Bud reject," and the frog's like, "Reconsider. I have friends -- powerful friends." Eyes narrow. Brows furrow. The battle of wills has begun.
Steven's mother, clad in a fresh-from-the-bookstore UNEC sweatshirt, praises the campus and wonders if she should take some classes there. "I could pass for a senior, right?" she teases. "No, you're way too old," Steven grins. Their laughter dies when they spy Hal in the lounge. "Hey, family!" Hal buffoons. "Nice sweatshirts!" He greets his ex -- Debra, it seems -- with a slavish smile and brandishes three tickets to the omelet station in front of the library. Man, if they'd had that at my school, I'd have been to the library way more often than just the night before my papers were due. Debra and Steven look ill, and slightly sad at the way Hal is making sweet love to Pathetic Bravado.
Lizzie and Rachel reenter their temple of doom. One look inside and Rachel's eyes fly open. She gasps, "Oh my God!" Mary sits on the bed with a knowing glare, having brutalized the frog into submission and dumped out the disgraceful contents of its belly. "Your frog has been very naughty," she intones, shaking her head in disapproval.
I love that, during this episode about Senior Shag's wooden leg, Fox shows the Doritos ad with the one-legged basketball player who rips off his prosthesis and uses it to bat the ball away from the hoop. Nice accidental juxtaposition.
Rachel and Lizzie sit guiltily on one bed, while Mary sits in judgment on the other. She lectures Rachel about violating her trust, saying she wouldn't have to spy if Rachel would stop with the lying. "I don't deserve this," Mary insists. "I had to raise you by myself. Your father -- he doesn't even care!" Rachel is miserable. Lizzie just watches. Mary blathers that she told River Glen that twenty-eight days seemed too short, but she regrets thinking six months sounded too long. Gulping, Lizzie leans forward and takes one for the team. "It's mine," she whispers. "All mine." Rachel's jaw drops and bounces off the cleavage spilling from her shirt. Mary immediately recants her lecture to Rachel (who acts all angelic and wounded), and demands a moment alone with Lizzie. "Yeah," Rachel agrees, nodding with a concerned expression, as though she's relieved someone is willing to stage an intervention for the skank-hellion Lizzie. Looking betrayed, Lizzie smiles nervously at Mary.