Wolf Lake
Tastes Like Chicken

Episode Report Card
Heathen: C- | Grade It Now!
Tastes Like Chicken

A little blond imp sits in her parents' pickup truck outside a modest suburban house. Lou makes nicey-nice with her, until her father runs out with a dog to sic the sick pedophile grinning sugar at his baby girl. His hand forced, Lou introduces himself as a detective from the Seattle-Wolf Lake police departments and offers sympathy for the family's loss. His pup, meanwhile, whimpers with joy as Lou pets him. "That's a first," PapaSandy observes. "They don't like dogs, and dogs don't like them." For anyone out there who thinks Lou is secretly a wolf, this exchange may dissuade you. Not that anyone was losing sleep over the quandary. MamaSandy trots out and chokes that they don't mean to make trouble, but they just want to bury their daughter. Lou doesn't know what she means. "They burned her," sniffles MamaSandy. They wanted a proper burial, but evidently the morgue cremated her and delivered the ashes inside an aluminum can. And they thought it was soup powder and just added water, and dinner was so good until they realized, and oh, it got ugly from there. MamaSandy gripes that she didn't get a proper urn for her child. Lou looks sad.

At her salon, Nancy blathers that Paul Newman and Robert Redford are the hottest blue-eyed bad boys in the whole world. She figures that if she'd been in the movie, she'd have nailed them both without a second of guilt. Then she smiles at her client, Sophia, and tells her not to listen. And then she describes Donner as a "mouthwatering hombre. "He's like a monument or something," she gushes. Eh? Sophia is equally startled and wishes Nancy would shut up and sex up her hair so that Luke can mess it up again while they grope in the back seat of his car. Which, by the way, is a Dodge Challenger, and not a Mustang. That's what I get for thinking I'm clever with cars. Sophia whips out a magazine so that Nancy can copy the hairdo inside.

Luke puts on his jacket and prepares to leave home, but Sherman stops him. "Must be rockin' out there," he jollies. Sherman is like Santa -- a walking bowlful of jelly. He whips out a hundred-dollar bill and waves it under Luke's nose, explaining that Willard thought he might want a little "walking-around money," which sounds to me like, "Son, buy yourself a big-boy blowjob." Luke is ashamed to have avoided dear old Dad, and peeks around into his sick room. A machine beeps bad health. Luke stares uncomfortably at Sherman and bolts, leaving the old man still holding the cash. "Guilt just doesn't work like it used to," Sherman laments.

Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11Next

Wolf Lake




Get the most of your experience.
Share the Snark!

See content relevant to you based on what your friends are reading and watching.

Share your activity with your friends to Facebook's News Feed, Timeline and Ticker.

Stay in Control: Delete any item from your activity that you choose not to share.

The Latest Activity On TwOP