Nancy walks out into her garage, and when she shuts the door, a heavy trunk full of something falls onto the hood of Conrad's hoopty. Guess she hasn't gotten around to buying back her Rover, then.
At Agrestic Elementary, Shane's meeting with a school counselor (played by Amy Aquino -- yay!), who is troubled by the drawings of bloody carnage that Shane's made, not to mention accompanying Ã¼ber-violent gangsta rap lyrics that are just awesome enough to deserve direct quoting: "My name is Shane/ I bring the pain/ up from the streets of Agrestic/ Bitch, you don't wanna sweat this/ I cap any motherfucker/ you don't wanna test this, beyotch..." Shane's excuse? "I got rage in me." Amy, who is awesomely not all that scandalized by Shane or his lyrics, says he's made a lot of people quite nervous. He blames this on the preponderance of "bitch-ass white boys" at school. "I hate to break this to you," says Amy, "but you're also a bitch-ass white boy." Love her. Amy then tries some psychoanalysis, explaining how he's "lashing out" because people call him "weirdo" and "Strange Botwin." Shane rolls his eyes like, "Totally, I just want to fit in. Can I go now?" Amy says there are concerns Shane will act on these impulses, but Shane assures her he won't cap any motherfuckers. His therapist just says he's acting out because his dad's dead. This is apparently good enough for Amy, because even school counselors are no match for the Dead Daddy card.
Hodes House. Dean is dealing with the insurance guy in the aftermath of the crate of Diet Coke falling through his ceiling (which, by the way, was a sweet nod to Donnie Darko and I forgot to mention that). Across the room, Celia's working with a faith healer, who pokes and grabs and sniffs at her cancer-ridden tits. Nancy shows up just in time for the sniffing, and in case Celia's "WTF" expression didn't clue you in, this was not her idea. The Gossipy Bitches of Agrestic sent her over, though Celia would have much preferred "one of those cookies on a stick." I hear that, lady. Faith Healer gets the hint and skedaddles, and I'm not sure if it's the cancer or the hole in her ceiling, but Celia's mellow enough to leave her with a "namaste" that manages to be fondly ironic rather than frightening and venomous. Then, Celia tells Blanca to just take all of her clothes. Take them! For herself or anyone else who they might fit. Dudes, Celia's sicker than we may have realized. Of course, she makes the "Aren't there, like, eighteen people living in your house?" joke, just so we know she hasn't been body-snatched by aliens.