Veronica makes a Ghost Whisperer reference, and somewhere in the north of the state, Keckler's liver flares up for completely unrelated reasons. Veronica says that she's being haunted in her dreams by the kids who died in the bus crash. "The second I close my eyes, there they are. Acting like they're dying to tell me something." Well, it's unfortunate the way this sentence is going to work out, but if they waited seventeen episodes to show up, they must not have been dying too hard. Veronica hands over pictures of the kids on the bus -- Cervando, "the academically inclined PCHer"; Betina, "Dick Casablancas's booty buddy"; Rhonda, of "Hey Michele, AIEEEEE!" fame; Marcos, tapes of whose show Veronica's been listening to all the time; Peter, "who generously posted the details of his unrequited gay love on neptunepirateship.com"; and Meg. Those remembrances are kind of unsympathetic, to say the least, but since Veronica omitted it, I'll try to do better with Meg: "She served as a placeholder for me with Duncan before successfully surviving scary parents, an explosion and crash, and a pregnancy storyline ripped straight from ABC daytime fare, only to ignominiously succumb to a tiny blood clot -- and offscreen, no less." That was harder than I thought. Veronica then asks what BSK! knows about a janitor named "Lucky," since Meg had a lot to say about him.
Now we're back on the bus, as Veronica looks out to see goldfish swimming around. She opines that the view is cool, but Meg snots, "Yeah, it's just dreamy. I really want to spend eternity like a plastic scuba diver in someone's fish tank." Well, Meg, given your family history, I'd think you'd be all in favor of not being trapped in a dark, enclosed space for eternity. Especially without endless creepy handwriting exercises to while away the hours. Also, Meg's wearing a "Baby On Board" t-shirt, and if I can find that hilarious after shredding that storyline a mere paragraph ago...I don't know what the message is. "TV is cool"? Veronica leans over to steer the bus portside toward the current of exposition, and asks Meg if her parents were trying to set her up with Lucky. Meg says that it wasn't so overt -- they just had him over for dinner so that he could quote the Bible and talk about how he took shrapnel in the ass for his country. Good thing he had more than one cheek to give, or, like Nathan Hale, he might have had some regrets. Veronica dreamily offers that Meg thought he was creepy, causing Meg to appear next to Veronica and ask if she read her emails. Ooh, sneaky, Veronica. But at least your situational comparison was even more apt than I realized -- I wouldn't assume that Iggy Pop was cured of heroin after turning it down one time either. Meg chastises Veronica for the intrusion, and then is all, "I forgot -- I'm dead. In Veronicaland, no pulse, no privacy." I understand what she's trying to say, but I'm not sure I buy the implication that Veronica respects living people's privacy. Because in my idea of Veronicaland, while the rich are fairly taxed and student aid is plentiful, absolutely no one has a problem with the Patriot Act. Veronica guiltily says that she's trying to help, and Meg, in a more conciliatory tone, says that while her parents may be impressed with him for going to church (possible Fitzpatrick connection?), Lucky is just a janitor at the high school he graduated from "who buys beer for guys like Logan to hang on to his glory days." Hmm. That comment is far too specific for me not to think perhaps Lucky bought the beer for the bus-crash party, at which the mysterious phone call was made. Man, I wonder how much stuff I'm forgetting to make room for keeping track of all these plot points. I'm going to be that guy in the rest home who can't remember what day it is and calls his roommates "Weevil" and "Logan." (Yes, it'll be that kind of rest home.) Meg adds that Veronica knows all this from Meg's emails.