Naturally, Heath, Ron, and Shaggy refuse to handhold Theo through his first night on the big campus. Steven begs them. They're immune to his words. "No way," Heath states. "We're trying to hook up with some birds tonight, and [Vesuvius] is enough of an obstacle." Vesuvius gurgles. It knows. Shaggy winces. He also knows. Steven swears that if he doesn't make this date happen, he'll lose Lizzie, and it can't be the perfect night of love if Theo's hanging around trying to be Laurence Fishbourne. "Boom shaka-laka," shouts Theo; he's playing ping-pong with The Samoan, who isn't wearing his Jerry Rice jersey today. I hope the love affair hasn't ended. Ron deems it a perfect night of love, "for me to POOP on!" Huh. One of the rare jokes that only works if you're a rubber dog and you have someone's hand jammed up your ass. "You guys really suck, you know that?" spits Steven angrily. Heath wrestles with his conscience, and gets pinned like a sorority girl in heat. He reluctantly agrees to take Keanu -- except duh, Theo is Morpheus, not Neo -- as long as the kid can keep up. Steven thanks him effusively. "Beeyatch!" shouts Theo, smashing the ping-pong ball straight into The Samoan's belly where it belongs.
Steven gleefully plucks a can of whipped cream off the grocery-store shelf. Rachel sighs and puts it back, shaking her head. This kicks off a montage of supermarket tomfoolery. Steven grabs a literal armload of condom boxes and grins, "Well, I think I have enough condoms...for tonight!" Rachel and Larice stare at him and shake their heads. Then Steven holds up two bottles and asks a disenchanted checkout boy whether the heat-activated or edible massage oil is best. Finally, Steven surveys his haul of wine, cheese, roses, and candles and proclaims this "the most specialest night ever!" He is three. And how is he getting out of there with wine? Only the world's blindest and stupidest person would think Steven is of age. "Eric can bite my DUST!" Steven whoops, then hops on the cart and rides it triumphantly down the aisle, only to crash into another cart and fall. Rachel and Larice grimace again. They do a lot of that.
In the elevator, Heath tells Theo that college girls really like guys who hang around unobtrusively and say nothing. And, as the only one dressed in a pale yellow and blue argyle sweater-vest with a tie, Heath is clearly the authority on what girls like. If by "girls" you mean "octogenarian Fred Rogers fetishists." Yeah, yeah, I know Fred wore cardigans, but it's the same basic frumpy fashion statement. Theo nods sagely at Heath's words. If silence is sexy, he'll be the Marcel Marceau of college guys. "You too," Ron grumps at Shaggy. "Chill out and don't embarrass your zit." Shaggy figures the Vesuvius jokes are getting old, but Ron points out that they never get old. Ever. "It's as fresh as the pus on your zit," Heath snickers. Vesuvius burps up a pusball that explodes on Heath's head, plastering his hair into submission. There's no other explanation for the disaster on his head.