Shawn Newman has opinions, about the Cry It Out Movement ("cruel and anti-intuitive"), about Kegel exercises ("Pretend your vagina is an elevator... You want to end up wearing one of those Whoopi Goldberg pee pads?"). But Rebekah, the head of the ladies (played by Jessica St. Clair, delightfully as always), has a little bit of a question for him, which she indicates by asking him to sit down for a little snack-picnic. Shawn, still playing at being a mommy with his weird stilted language, goes, "I'd love to. How are your Kegels?" Rebekah informs him, appropriately enough, that her Kegels are a private matter, and finally gets down to business.
"We know Avi's mother wasn't killed in the Iraq. I called my brother-in-law at the Department of Defense. There were no IED fatalities in Qahtaniya anywhere near the time you said Avi's mother was killed. So, why don't you tell us the truth? ...Or we can call Child Protective Services together?" Sweetie, that ship sailed a long long time ago.
But there's this look in Shawn's eyes, and a sudden overarching weirdness, that puts me in mind of one of my favorite things about this show: The way anything authoritative or helpful, from cops to therapists to rehab, is as scary as possibly imaginable, because they are so upside down in their lives. I think the last time this really came up was with Celia, actually, how for an addict there's not really a difference between getting help and getting caught. It's such a fascinating dynamic and they get stuck in it all the time on this show.
Well, as Doug well knew, the person with Andy's phone is not Andy, but a crazy cat-trapping hobo. Cesar is upset because they just put 1000 miles on his leased automobile ("There is a penalty if I go over the allotted mileage," he says mournfully); Ignacio points a gun at the bonkers old man ("This is my phone. It came to me from the sky. I reprogrammed it so it can make sandwiches!"), and then shoots the bonkers old man when the cat jumps out suddenly.
Everybody wiggles around feeling weird about the dead hobo for a second, except Ignacio who's tweaking on how he nearly killed the cat, and the cat itself, who starts drinking the hobo's blood. Sweetest of the human flavors. Doug offers to call the car company and talk them down, because that is after all one of his skills, doing stuff like that, and Cesar makes him help carry the body even though he's like this close to horking.
I wish they would just kill him. I wish they would kill Doug and Cesar could finally marry Esteban like he wants, and then it would just be me and Ignacio. We'd go make teddy bears at the Build-A-Bear workshop and then go out past the city limits under a heavy orange moon, just me and Ignacio, and we'd fill those motherfuckers full of lead.
While Linda and Fiona do jumping jacks of joy about Nathalie's newfound "steady supply" of fantastically pure biofuel fuel, Randy notices Kish doing something strange and naked in the other room, and once again assumes that he's a little girl. Corrected, a lightbulb goes off over his head: "Oh! He's trying to blow himself!"
Nathalie closes the deal and they head out, Randy still troubled but Nathalie triumphantly brandishing a garbage bag full of shake and shouting, "With my wits! With my moxie! Whatever you can say about Nathalie Nancy Botwin Newman Price, wife-mother-lover-drug dealer, good or bad, I get shit done!" And that's when the cops outside pull their guns and start yelling.