Frescorts
Updated 2008-10-23 09:33:20
Hey, hey, everybody. Thanks so much to my fast-acting subs who filled in for me during recent assorted personal crises. It's been a hard month. Aaaaand, today's my birthday -- such is my devotion to you people. Enough, however, about me. Without question, this week's opening set a new standard of greatness for Pushing Daisies . Emerson Cod was five months, three days and four hours old when his mother planned his death. What I'm saying is, Emerson was a baby -- A VERY CUTE BABY, in a spotted suitie and matching beanie when his mom put him in a pram and kicked him down the steps of the courthouse (reminding me not a little of the Eisenstein/de Palma treatment). Down clatters the buggy while the mother screams, until it crashes into a postbox, discharging tiny Emerson like a missile. He is caught by a man who leaps up from a wheelchair, allegedly broken-armed and -legged. Ah, accept, this dude ain't broken, AND that baby ain't a baby! It's a doll, and the wheelchair guy is totally busted as an insurance fraud by Calista Cod, private investigator, who had sneakily strapped the real baby Emerson to herself before launching the fateful stroller. The accusing look the baby gives the criminal almost broke my Tivo, such were the number of rewinds I had to commit in order to watch it again and again. Thereafter, Jim Dale explains, the firm of Cod & Cod dedicated itself to the pursuit of truth at all costs, "a pursuit young Emerson found... badass ."
Indeed, the adolescent Emerson -- who picked up a penchant for snappy dressing (and baldness) early in life -- faced with scoundrels and cheats, learned early that truth is the cornerstone of any successful relationship. We see him now reliving his childhood through his masterwork, L'il Gumshoe , in which he has rewritten his own history (of being lowered by his ankles off roofs to spy on adulterers and the like) to be played by a little girl. In this way, he hopes his young daughter -- his own l'il gumshoe -- will one day find it and be inspired to, in turn, find him. The thing is, this won't happen if he can't get the thing published. "'Child endangerment,'" he reads in the latest publisher's rejection letter. "Man, that's cold."
Meanwhile, back at the Pie Hole, Olive, Chuck and Ned are scared of their newest customer. "She just rolled in like a moody, mean thundercloud," Chuck says of the lady in booth 1, reading the paper and smoking a cigar. Trepidatiously, Olive asks for her order. "Nothin'," the lady says, "with a side of buzz off." Ned girds up his loins to point out that the Pie Hole is, in fact, an eating establishment not, say, a park bench "where one can loiter and smoke and not consume food to their heart's content." Just as the mean lady threatens to take it outside, Emerson arrives. "Oh, good," Olive says, not really relieved. "Someone with a gun." But Emerson is clearly in no mood to play bouncer. Morosely thinking of his book rejection, he orders his standard rhubarb: "The whole pie'll do." Ah, but what's this? Sniffing the air he smells a familiar odor. Literally. "Mama," he says, without even having to look. "When are you gon' treat yourself and spring for a decent stogie?" Aw. The grouchy old broad is Ms. Cod, all grown up and in town to track a fraud case. She and Emerson share a cackling laugh and Emerson introduces her around as the P.I. who taught him everything he knows. "She's my best bud and my mama to boot," he says, bringing a real tear to my eye as they haul off to a nearby bar. I have to pause here to say how geeeeeeeenius a move it was casting Debra Mooney as Calista Cod. I don't know how Emerson has a white mom, and they don't explain it, and I don't care. This show is so awesome in that way -- saturated with color, yet color blind. It doesn't ask and it doesn't tell, and one day I hope TWoP lands an interview with Bryan Fuller, but I can't be the one who conducts it because it would be two hours of me being like, "remember when you created this awesome show that I hate to recap because there's nothing to say about it but how great it is?" and just repeating it over and over like Chris Farley.
In the kitchen, Chuck muses on the nature of Ms. Cod's brutal honesty and appetite for hooch. "If she had an eye-patch," Chuck says, "Calista could be Lily." Ned quickly asks how Chuck's doing with that whole your-aunt's-your-mom thing. Chuck seems downright sanguine. "I'm happy to know I have a mother who's alive," she says, "and not so happy that she can't know I'm alive." Suddenly, she says, what was seeming happy is kind of sad. Ned offers his skills as a comforter. No, an actual comforter. "Consider me your king-sized duvet," he says, eyebrows waggling, "ready to wrap you in goose-down goodness." Now here is where I wish they would explain some stuff. Like, who did Chuck think her mom was before? And, how is Ned going to wrap her in anything without killing her? I am willing, you know, to suspend all sorts of disbelief, but I need to understand a little better how this alleged, very dangerous relationship is supposed to work, physically. In any case, Chuck easily turns down this offer, saying she already has plans with Olive. Ned jealously points out that Chuck and Olive have been hanging out every night since Olive got back. "Are you two new best friends or something?" he asks. Pausing for a moment, Chuck realizes that yeah, she guesses they are: "I have a new best friend, isn't that superb?" Oh, but Jim Dale tells that no, Ned does not find it superb. He misses his undead girlfriend something awful, and does not like being on the butt-end of this love triangle. But, to keep from looking needy, he lies and pretends to be happy about it.
Olive and Chuck head home in happy roomiehood as Jim Dale explains that their decision to cohabitate was rather sudden. Olive, returning form the turquoise convent with no possessions, kind of likes the idea of living in a home with furniture. Chuck, for her part, loves the feeling of independence she gets from living in her own place with her own things. Thus, they make a deal. "You should know that I'm a morning showerer, a heavy sleeper and a dish dryer," she says. Olive provides the counterpoint: "And I'm a late-night bath-taker, a snorer and a dish-scrubber. Welcome home!" Chuck wonders if there are any other issues they should discuss. Olive says that if she's referring to that time she made Olive an unwitting drug-mule for her aunts, then nope, that chestnut's roasted. With a tight-smile, Chuck says good, then they also won't have to go over how Olive hid the fact that one of said aunts was Chuck's mother. Riiiiight, Olive says, nor will they need to discuss how Chuck won't explain why she faked her death (as Olive believes she did). "My, look at all those bridges!" Olive says, faux-cheerily. Chuck: "And all that water, flowing under them." They pretend to be proud of themselves for dealing with the tough stuff, but JD can't help but point out the truth: they each have sneaking suspicions that they were fooling themselves about how well they were dealing with the tough stuff. However, Olive points out the most important thing: Pigby and Digby? The real New Best Friends. Yes, don't separate the 'igbys! They will need each other. I need to point out the precious, sweet Anna Friel's total adorableness in her yellow rose pantsuit. And THEN I need to BLOW YOUR MIND with this YouTube video of Ms. Friel in her natural habitat. Go ahead! I'll wait while you watch it. It's totally safe for work except for the screams you'll let out upon hearing her real voice for the first time. I knew she was English, but uh, I didn't know she talked like a Lancastrian football hooligan who would likely punch your teeth out in a pub brawl. Nor did I realize she was partnered with David Thewlis NOR did I realize she lobbied for the part of Tonks in the Harry Potter films, which she totes should have gotten, because she would have ruled at it. Somehow, I missed ALL of that through this whole recapping of her on this show. I am deeply ashamed!
At Emerson's office, MamaCod is having him try on the newly-knitted gun holster she made him, and finding it a tight fit. "Wool stretches," Emerson says. MamaCod: "Not to China, sweetheart." Oh, yeah, she's his mom. "Hey, have you got a girl somewhere?" she asks, causing Emerson to spasm in pain from having kept the secret of his daughter from her for seven years. He swiftly hides his office copy of L'il Gumshoe . "Well, somebody's been feeding you," his mother goes on, still referring to his expanded girth. "What's her name?" Emerson honestly and sassily answers that it's the pie maker who's bulking him up. "Damn," Calista says, and adds that it's damn sad she doesn't know more about what's going on in her son's life. "I know we're both busy," she says, "but it ain't right." Emerson agrees. In fact, Jim Dale tells us, he knows it ain't right to continue keeping his mom in the dark about his daughter, and chooses this moment to bare his soul. Except, well, just as he's about to reveal the dilly, they are interrupted by a client. And, va voom, what a client she is. A gorgeous vixen, introducing herself as "Beronica Billanueva," breathily declares herself in desperate need of asseestance. Her best friend Joe has been murdered, she says, but Emerson is desperate to get the truth off his chest to his mom and tells her to scram. "Please, I am opening my heart to you," Veronica says. Calista steps in. "Just open that blouse." DAMN, Ma! Oh, wait. Obvs, she knew Veronica would be carrying her cash in her décolleté, which she was. I was feeling like things were about to get weird. Anyway, Veronica explains that her friend Joe was murdered, the police won't help her, and that she wants "yustice" at any price. "That's our kind of yustice," Ms. Cod says, and shows her out. And here's where things DO get weird, okay? "Well, I'll be dental-damned," Emerson says, jumping up to go to his filing cabinet. MamaCod: "With a girl like that, you should ." Y'all... did this show just use the term dental dam? And then drive home the point by making a sexual joke about it? "Flabbergasted" would not even approach my level of shock. I am seriously still reeling!
Anyway, what Emerson is actually referring to is a case that had come in earlier in the afternoon -- a dentist, Eugene, hired him to get justice for his murdered best friend, Joe! Same dude currently being mourned by the sexy Veronica. What's weird to the Cods is that Veronica's Joe and Eugene's Joe, though the same, have different lifestyles. "Seems Joe's a different friend to different people," Emerson says.
Down at the morgue, we sadly miss out on seeing our beloved coroner, but Chuck, Ned and Emerson do arrive to have a chat with Dead Joe. The friendly corpse says the last thing he remembers was getting ready to play ball and feeling a doozy of a pain in his back. Emerson and Chuck check it out -- he was stabbed, and the killer did a poor stitch job to sew it back up. As they ponder the possible reasons why, FLUID explodes from the stab wound! Aiiieeee! They are just leaping away from this when the same stuff starts shooting from Joe's ear! Chuck takes the initiative and plugs this fountain with her finger, saying she recognizes the smell as formaldehyde. "The coroner must have started embalming me already," Joe says. But, no, that's not what the coroner does, Emerson says. That happens later and elsewhere. Joe sneezes out a violent stream of the stuff, causing them all to leap back. "Bless you," Ned says, but Joe says, no, who needs to be blessed is his girlfriend Downey, who he never got to tell how he felt about her. Emerson frustratedly asks if he has any idea who tried to pickle his gherkin (heee!) and Joe says no. "I wonder if this has anything to do with my best friend..." Joe muses. Emerson: "Which one, Veronica or Dr. Eugene?" Joe is delighted that they know his buddies. "Promise to keep an eye on them for me?" he asks, just before Ned gives him the touch. Emerson: "We plan to."
So now the plan must be to get the goods on both Veronica and the doc. Back at the house of detection, the presence of Mrs. Cod has made it possible for Emerson and his mother to return to their tried-and-true method of "KalashniCod," named for its eerily similar qualities to the rapid-firing of Kalashnikov's finest. "Who's Joe's best friend?!" they both aggressively shout at the two suspects, who both raise their hands to claim the title. "We have it on good authority Joe's BFF made him RIP," Emerson says, wagging an accusing cigar. "Who wants the title now?" The two swiftly point to the other. "Did givin' him the stab-stab make you feel good?" Emerson asks before demanding the facts. "I'm no suspect," Veronica says. "I hired you!" Dr. Eugene feels the same and wants his money back. Oh, but Emerson doesn't give refunds to people who waste his time. He knows they're hiding something. "What is it?!" he and his mom ask in unison with a threatening desk slap. Fine, Veronica says, she'll tell him the dirty, humiliating truth. Their friend Joe was a "frescort." A friend-escort, hired to provide companionship and pretend to be their friend. Emerson wants to know what's wrong with picking a friend the old-fashioned way. "Walkin' up to someone and sayin' 'Hi, my name's Blahdie Blah. Do you like bloohdy-blooin'? I do too. Let's be friends.'" Mrs. Cod says she gets why Dr. Bashful needs a pen pal, but turns her sights on the lusty Veronica. "Back when I had a rack and a couple of getaway sticks like yours," she says, "I had no trouble making acquaintances." Veronica waves her hand over her luscious frame. "Theees," she says, "attracts all kinds." She says she's appears to men only as a score not yet scored, and that "theees" (hand wave over face) promotes eeeenstant jealousy in women. She was all alone, she says, so she called in the professionals. She hands over a business card to Emerson. "My Best Friend, Inc." he reads, and has a brainwave. Joe had said maybe his death had to do with "My Best Friend." Aha!
So, the mission for the team is thus: Olive and Chuck will pretend to be frescort-wannabes, pretending to apply for jobs while searching for Joe's love, Downey. Meanwhile, the boys are off to talk to My Best Friend's CEO. "Any questions?" Emerson asks, but is irritated when Ned raises his hand. Ned wants to partner up with Chuck, instead. He cuts Chuck a cute look, but Chuck shoots him down. See, she and Olive have already come up with awesome back stories and aliases and stuff, soooooo... yeah. And they also have a secret incognito partner's handshake and everything, which includes a lot of finger waving and snaps? Sorry, Ned. You can see why she can't switch now. Upstairs, the fellas meet Buddy Amicus, the anvilly named CEO of the company. He welcomes them to My Best Friend, "where everyone's in the in crowd." Aw. Emerson is not there to make pals, though. But, see, that's Buddy's whole shtick, making pals. He does it as atonement, he says, showing him around his office full of high school hero paraphernalia. He was, he says, a colossal jerk back then, picking on the weak. "They were just sad, pimply targets for a varsity quarterback like myself," he says, "until two blitzing linebackers destroyed my knee." Suddenly, he says, he was no different from all the nerds he'd put through hell, and he swore he'd use his powers for good -- providing people, for a nominal fee, with friendship. As Buddy explains to Emerson that Joe's frescort records are confidential, Ned looks around and spies "the hug machine," which appears to hilariously be a rainbow patterned tackling dummy with arms. To distract Buddy so that he can steal Joe's file, Emerson suggests Ned receive a demonstration of the hug machine. "The Piemaker did not want to be hugged by a machine," Jim Dale says. "He wanted to be hugged by the one he was lonely for." In the background, Emerson sneaks looks at the files, until Buddy turns to look at him, causing Emerson to hug himself in fake camaraderie, nearly slaying me.
Downstairs Olive and Chuck are on their own mission, to flim-flam Barb, My Best Friend hiring manager, into giving them jobs. They hit Barb with their aliases: Chuck's tried and true "Kitty Pims" and Olive's completely adorable "Patty Boots." Barb puts them through the My Best Friend paces, and y'all, I have to apologize for what I'm about to do, because all of this dialogue is cute, but I can't write it all out. I just cannot. Look, I did Gilmore Girls for YEARS and they were practically deaf-mutes compared to these people. Barb tests their emotive powers of expression, from happy to sad, from consternation to constipation, and I truly feel sorry for you if you missed the episode, because Chenoweth and Friel take the prize here for over-the-top cuteness. They're so good, Barb signs them up for Frescort training, ASAP. Chuck subtley says that she heard the job might be, you know, kind of dangerous. "You're talking about Joe," Barb says, shivering. "It's so horrible." She says, though, that she only knew Joe by name, as frescorts are forbidden to fraternize. She gives them a knowing look. "We won't even carpool," Olive promises.
At Dead Joe's apartment building, Emerson is ranting on the pathetic nature of people who pay other people to be their friends. Ned takes offense. "Why are they pathetic, because they're alone?" Emerson shrugs it off, but Ned goes on, saying sometimes people have to hire tennis coaches to help them with their backhand, and that Emerson, in fact, has no idea how to make a rhubarb custard pie, but seems to have no problem paying Ned to make them for him. Sometimes, his point is, people need some extra help and will pay for it. "You've had a best friend since birth," he concludes, making Emerson feel guilty just when he's trying to trip Joe's lock. "Not all of us have been that lucky."
Emerson is, at first, less than moved. "Yeah, well," he says, "don't be too jealous of my luck. Only one sorry leaf hangin' off that clover!" Really, he's sad about the secrets he's keeping from his mother. He's says he's technically not lied to her, but he also hasn't told her about having a daughter. Ned rightly mentions that most people would consider that splitting hairs. Emerson says he's probably mostly embarrassed that his ex conned him out of a relationship with his kid. "But you know what?" he says, suddenly resolved. "I'm chuckin' my chagrin overboard. I'm lettin' loose the truth!" Yep, he goes on as he picks the lock to Dead Joe's aparetment, as soon as they are done here, he's going to find his mom, sit her down, and look her right in the... AAAAIIEEEEE! Emerson and Ned are shocked when the door opens, and right at eye level is, well, there's no other way to say it, an eye. On a stick. Held by none other than David Arquette, who plays the dead guy's roommate.
"Whatsa matter?" he asks. "Cat got your eye?" Awesome. He apologizes, saying the eye was for a sculpture he's working on in the back room, and introduces himself as the unfortunately named Randy Mann. "I got some knee-slappers about that," he says, elbowing Ned. "You wanna hear?" They don't, though Ned immediately feels a kinship with poor Randy, who misses his roommate. "You share your life with someone," Ned says, "and suddenly there's an abyss where someone always was there before." Randy is traumatized by Ned's tale of the loss of his roommate-slash-girlfriend. "Your roommate-slash-girlfriend died?" he asks. Ned: "Yeah. I mean, no! She moved out." Randy notices, though, that Ned's not completely alone, and picks a golden retriever hair off Ned's sweater with tweezers. "It would be a source of comfort," Ned rages (in his way) if my golden retriever didn't prefer living with my girlfriend, her new bestie, and THEIR PIG." Aw, Ned. The poor man! Thrown over for a pig. Let's keep it real, though -- that pig is cute.
For his part, Emerson has grown tired of this group grief session, and steps in to question Randy, who says he was not aware of Joe's real profession, but thought that he tutored "special folks," or something. Emerson is suspicious, mostly because David Arquette is cute and weird, and eases his way down a back hall to try to sniff around some more. Randy, however, makes sure he is unable get into the back room, causing Emerson to frown like his namesake fish and leave.
Talking it over at the Pie Hole with the full team, Calista agrees with her son. "Randy's a nutjob name," she says, immediately offending Ned. "Randy's a fun guy's name! You'd grab a beer with Randy; grill a brat with Randy; pick up chicks with Randy..." Emerson: "And help stuff 'em into Randy's freezer with Randy." Heeee. Ned is mad. "Can you be a little nice? His roommate died!" But Emerson won't budge. "Did you see how nice and crazy behind the eyes he got when I tried to get into that back room? What's he hiding back there?" Ned says maybe Randy's private. Yeah, in fact, he goes on, nobody's ever seen Emerson's back room! Nobody's ever even seen his front door! "Where do you live, anyway?" Olive and Chuck agree: Emerson is very private. Calista shrugs, saying he didn't get it from her. "Look," Emerson cuts in, bringing the show to its peak of greatness for the week. "My heezy ain't none of y'all's beezy." Randy, he says, is shady and he's going to get back into the apartment at the first opportunity. Chuck reports that she and Olive may have hit a dead-end trying to find Downey -- the frescort service even has a policy that frescorts can't date each other, so they still don't know if Downey is even there.
They are interrupted from a call outside the window. It's Randy! He's fallen for the old Emerson trick of supplying a Pie Hole coupon to a suspect in order to draw them out of the house, and has come to see Ned for a pie baking lesson. "I brought along offal !" he says, causing Olive to spit out a mouthful of apple crumble. "For meat pies," Ned says, by way of explanation. Chuck can't take it. "So 'awful,' like this idea! I am not leaving Ned alone with Backroom Randy," she says. "This place is full of freezers, perfect for body-stuffing!" Emerson puts the kibosh on her complaining, tells her and Olive to "get to frescortin'," sends Ned to the kitchen with Randy and tells his mom it's time to go break into Randy's place. Calista, however, shuts him down when her beeper goes off. "My target's on the move," she says, referring to her fraud case. "Well, can't it wait?" Emerson whines, all sad. "I thought we were gonna get a chance to talk and catch up while we were tossing that apartment!" Ah, the complex relationship between working parents and their sons. Please pause while I sing a revised version of Cat's in the Cradle . Emerson's face falls as JD tells us that the weight of the secret he was keeping was so heavy, he felt he'd soon be crushed. "And so, he entered the apartment of a suspected killer with a different death in mind," Jim Dale says sadly, "that of his and his mother's friendship." Putting aside his own troubles, however, he quickly finds an invoice from My Best Friend, proving that Joe was a frescort to none other than Randy. On the trail now, he sneaks into the backroom only to immediately encounter a huge, menacing figure. Turning on the light, however, he finds it's a taxidermied bear. In a tutu. Surrounded by a variety of other taxidermied wildlife, up to and including a wedding scene between a rabbit and what appears to be a tree bat? I don't know, because I am laughing too hard. "Holy Noah's Nutty as a Fruitcake Ark," Emerson says, with a considerable shudder, and I smile, thinking of my own mother, who regularly and skillfully employs "nutty as a fruitcake" as an effective insult. Thing is, the rabbit/bat nuptials weren't nearly the nuttiest thing to be found at Backroom Randy's. In a jar on the counter, labeled Joe, is what can only be a preserved human internal organ! AAAIIIIEEE!
Speaking of organs, Randy is back at the Pie Hole eating the nastiest meat pie imaginable. "Don't you want to chow down?" he says, offering some to Ned who claims, as I now do after seeing this, to be a vegetarian. Randy shrugs, saying this stuff is good for you. "Gobbling gizzards makes muscles!" he says. Eeek. Well, he goes on, seeing Ned blanche, at least that what his mom used to say. See, Randy was a weak kid, always falling and bruising himself and getting into disasters. Pretty sad, sure, but he didn't care. He just played with his pets, who always loved and accepted him. "Like your dog, Digby!" he says to Ned. "He digs you just the way you are, and forever will, too!" Realizing his freak flag is showing, Randy says he needs to shut up, lest Ned think he's a weirdo. "However, the piemaker did not see a weirdo," Jim Dale assures us, as Ned reveals that he didn't have any friends at school, either. He was so bad at sports, they wouldn't even give him gym clothes. Instead, as we know, he'd sneak off on his own and bake pies. Randy says that's how he got started on his hobby, too. In fact, he doesn't normally share his hobby with others, but he knew when he met Ned, that Ned would be okay with it. "So, I brought 'it' along and hid it out back," Randy says. "Wanna see?" Ned eagerly agrees, but uh... When Randy opens the door, he finds a taxidermied golden retriever. Wearing sunglasses. Playing a banjo. "Listen," Randy says, "he's playing American Pie for you." Ned is horrified. "DIGBY!" Ned shouts, horrified, that Randy has killed his dog, but no, Randy tells him this is Butterscotch, his own childhood dog, who has been his best friend for his whole life. I have a horrible moment where I think Ned is going to touch the dog and bring it back to life, but he does not. Instead he turns on Randy, who is trying to make him understand that he only wanted to hold on to something he loved. Of course, Ned should be THE person to understand that, but in fact, he asks Randy, rudely, to leave. "I thought we had something in common," Randy says, sadly, and is on the way out when Emerson arrives pointing a gun at him, saying he's a sick man.
"You don't think it's sick, do you?" he asks Ned of his hobby, looking for reassurance. Emerson: "Course he does! He was just here babysitting while I was gatherin' evidence on you!" Poor Randy looks angrily at Ned. "Liar, liar!" he snarls, but Emerson cuts in, again. "Yo' pants on fire," he says. "You weren't Joe's roommate, you were his client." Randy says he was too embarrassed to admit it at first, especially since Joe got repo-ed. But, he swears, he didn't kill him. Emerson finds this hard to believe, he says, whipping out the appendix. I mean, I know it's impossible and everything, but I am taking this as a shout-out . Randy quickly explains that Joe gave him the appendix as a joke, after Randy took him to the hospital when it burst. If Emerson doesn't believe him, Randy says, they should ask Joe's girlfriend. He doesn't know her name, but it must be someone at work, Randy says, because Joe was about to quit his job to be with her. With that, he snatches back the stolen appendix and fixes a mean eye on Emerson.
Back at My Best Friend in the employee locker rooms, Chuck finds Olive to tell her that Ned has just called, relaying the news that the elusive Downey is definitely in their midst. They concoct their plans to seek her out during their upcoming training courses. "I'll nose through my How to Flatter and Reassure the Profoundly Ugly Symposium," Olive says. Chuck nods. "And I've got a CD Mixes that Matter Lab in five minutes," she says, "so maybe someone there will know." They are interrupted by Barb, coming in to ask them for help with the crossword -- she's looking for a word that means kinship. "I'm afraid there's a Q involved," she says. Chuck has it in one: " Propinquity ." Thrilled, Barb asks them both to help her with another one. "Oh," Olive says, looking at the paper, "four across is 'gelding.'" HA! Olive should know . But see, Barb doesn't do the acrosses, she says, she only does the... Chuck sees the light. Barb only does the downs! "You're Downey!" she says. Barb feebly tries to deny it, but then dramatically breaks down crying. Chuck tries to comfort her, but Barb asks for a tissue, gesturing to the box in the top of a locker. "I, uh, can't reach that," the tiny Olive says, and stands by as Chuck climbs up to the box. Ah, but turning their backs on Barb was not a good idea. With a lunge and a dry eye, she shoves them both into the locker, shots a "take that, bitches!" and runs out.
Foiled by Randy's innocence, Emerson moodily goes back to his office and is just about to enter when he spies someone creeping about within. "Crap," he mutters to himself before leaping into the room with a loud AHAAA! He struggles with his invader, chasing the masked perp around the room, beaning them with a coffee mug, before getting into a throat-clenching showdown with them at the door. Choked by the thief, he is somehow able to rip off the baddie's hood. It's... his mom. "OH, HAAAAYULL NO," he screeches, unable to breath. One day, I fully expect to get into this same scenario with my own mother. Do they sell ski masks at Chico's?
What is Calista doing sneaking around her own son's office? Well, the facts are these: the secretary responsible for sending out rejection letters from the publishing company to which Emerson had sent his book accidentally spit her liquid lunch (due to underbite surgery) all over his address. This was... unpleasant to behold. Anyway, when she tries to call directory assistance to get the address again, the operator is unable to distinguish that she is saying "E. Cod" and gives her the address of "C. Cod." In this way, Calista finds out that her son wrote L'il Gumshoe which she assumes to be a condemnation of her parenting. "And what's with the main character being a girl?!" she asks. "You sayin' I turned you gay?"
"I ain't gay!" Emerson responds, irritated. "And this ain't about you." Finally, he admits, the book is about his daughter. "Her mama ran off with her when she was a baby," he says. "And I been looking for her ever since. That's why I finally wrote L'il Gumshoe , to help her to have a way to find me." Calista is shocked and upset he never told her. "I didn't even tell my friends," Emerson says. "I'm not your friend!" Calista shoots back. "I'm your mother." Emerson, muttering: "Oh, now you my mama." Calista: "What's that, Mumbles?" Emerson says she only plays the Mama card when she wants him to feel guilty about something. "Well, since you switched back to MamaMode, I guess I can roll with that!" he yells. "So, tell me, Mama, what made you spy on your own son?" He's amazed at her cold shrewdness, to fake a case all so she could poke around in his personal life. The sad thing, he says, pulling the Kid Guilt so beautifully, is that he was going to tell her everything. "What kind of fool do you take me for?" Calista asks. Emerson says if she doesn't believe him, there's nothing else for them to say to each other, and surely Calista is about to smack him with his own book when Ned shows up, worried that Chuck and Olive haven't checked in yet.
Ah, that is because they are trapped in a locker. An unhappy, smelly locker. "It's like being trapped in a sachet in a panty drawer of a dead shut-in!" Olive whines. "Who was shut in her bedroom by her cats so they wouldn't have to smell the stench of freesia! Can't you smell it?!" Chuck says, yeah, she can smell it. "That'd be my freesia hair detangler that you said smells amazing yesterday," she says. Olive snaps: "Wish I hadn't, now." Chuck: "Wish I hadn't told you those capris made you look taller." Olive is appalled. "Liar!" she accuses, but Chuck says no, she's a truther "because I came clean unprompted, whereas you admitted to lying because you got caught." Olive rolls her eyes, remarking that once again Chuck is making herself the center of the universe, pulling us all into her gravitational force of blame. For Olive's information, Chuck says, there is no center of the universe, because it is forever expanding, so there. "Like your neediness," Olive snaps back. "'Wah, respect my feelings! Wah, don't fence me in! Wah, don't treat me like I'm dead!' Well, if you're so dead, how can you be so needy? Oh, that's right, you're selfish!" Chuck takes major issue with that, of course, having just shared with Olive everything she owns. "Big whoop!" Olive says. "Second-hand stuff." Chuck sees the light -- Olive is angry about the one thing she won't share: Ned. Olive is mortified, and correctly and cutely says that was a low blow. "What do you expect me to do? I'm in a no win situation, here," Chuck says. If she only had a nickel, she says, for every time they're all together and she unexpectedly catches Olive mooning over Ned... Poor Olive tries desperately to escape while Chuck goes on and on about how Olive looks all "oh, Ned, why can't you love me" and how she, thus, feels like a jerk for being in love with her own boyfriend. Olive can't help pointing out, again, that this boyfriend of hers is someone who she can (for reasons still unknown to Olive) never touch. Things are about to get violent when Emerson arrives to release them. Olive stomps off to "MY home" while the rest of the team goes to Buddy's office in search of more info on Downey. Unfortch, they find more than they bargained for. Downey's down, for good, squeezed to death by the hugging machine.
Ned gives her the touch and Barb comes back to life, gasping for air -- her lungs are collapsed. "Who knows CPR?" Ned cries, and when the only one who does is Barb, he grabs a basketball pump to reinflate her. Sometimes this show is really creepy. Anyway, Barb's facts are these: She had to lock Chuck away because she didn't want anyone to find out she dated Joe, lest she lose her precious job. She reveals to them that the night Joe died, he was moonlighting on a standing sports date with some tragic guy Joe was trying to teach how to play football. "Some guys just lack the jock gene," Downey says. "Buddy calls 'em Bleacher Leechers." Anyway, having given Chuck and Olive the shove, Barb came to the office to use the machine only to meet up with "the Spartan" who turned the machine to 11. She tried to fight back, and was only able to pull some fringe from his helmet. Ned gives her the final jab, and the team reflects. "There's no Spartan running around killing the popular kids," Emerson groans. "This ain't Thermopylae High ." Ha! No, Chuck agrees, it's Spartanburg West, Buddy's old school for which there is paraphernalia all over the office. Ned has a sad hunch that maybe this Bleecher Leecher was none other than the admittedly abused Randy.
They are pondering all this when Buddy walks in, alarmed to see Barb laid out on his sofa. "Oh, she's dead," Emerson says casually. "Thanks to your happy hug machine." They ask him if he knows a Randy Mann (hee) and say they think he may be the old Spartan mascot Buddy messed with in high school, come back for revenge. Handing off his yearbook, Buddy quickly exits, saying he has to evacuate the building. The gang is just discovering that there's no Randy Mann listed in the yearbook when the lights go out and they hear Buddy cry for help. Flailing to go help him, Chuck knocks Ned into the glass case containing the dressed-up football dummy, shattering glass everywhere. "That was close!" Ned says. Emerson: "yeah, the last thing we need is another dead body on our hands." Except, see, uh... the dummy? Is a dead body. Which they find out when Ned touches him and his skeletal remains come back to life. AIIIEE!
Thing is, the mummified footballer can't really talk all that much, because he's a mummy. "Sorry about that," Chuck says, apologizing for their shrieks after the guy takes his mannequin-faced helmet off and they see his true visage. "We weren't expecting such a leathery, mummy-like..." Through signs and gestures and points to the yearbook, they discern the facts, and the facts were these: this guy, Aries Kostopoulos, was the high school quarterback. BUDDY was the mascot! AND Buddy killed this dude, too. Duh dun duuuh! "What kind of person holds on to a dead body?" Chuck asks, shuddering, but before anyone can stop him, Buddy arrives fully suited up in his mascot uniform to provide the answer: "the kind that wants to preserve a friendship." Whoa! Here's the other facts: Aries K., back in the day, was the BMOC f'reals. Beloved by all, and so smooth he could toss a message-bearing football into the stands to just the right fan. "Your bazooms," it read. "Under the bleachers. 9 p.m." Oh, how my husband did laugh at that.
The problem arose when crazy Buddy, wrongly believing Aries to be his friend, tried to get closer to the QB by becoming the Spartans mascot. In his zeal to support his "friend," Buddy accidentally knocks the ball out of bounds with his Spartan sword on a crucial Kostopoulos pass during the state championship, earning his enmity in the extreme. The rejection of Aries is so painful, it drives Buddy crazy and makes him murderous. Years later, after years of orthodontics and steroids, Buddy had finally come to be the man he wanted to be. But among his successful frescorts, he developed a new but all too familiar obsession with Joe. Now, though, Buddy was the big man on campus, and could call all the shots. Except then Joe had to go and ruin it and quit the company to be with Barb. The realization that another friendship had been another lie, drove Buddy newly crazy, and he arranged one last sports date with Joe to kill him in the same old way. He tried to preserve Joe like he had Aries, but the formaldehyde triggered his asthma. Nerd. And Barb, of course, had taken Joe from him, and thus also had to die.
Of course, he'll be happy to kill Ned, too, especially after an impassioned Let's Hear it for the Weirdoes speech Ned gives in a fit of standing up for his own outsider life. Emerson, unmoved by all this ridiculousness, saves the day, taking Buddy down with a baseball bat.
Ned, still riding high on his geek revenge, goes in search of Randy Mann to offer a necessary apology. Meat pies in hand, he even takes Digby along. "Such a nice boy," Randy says to the dog. "So unlike your owner." Ned admits he deserved that. He just wants Randy to know that he doesn't need to pay for friendship from anyone -- there are plenty of weirdoes out there. "What makes me unique has brought every person I love into my life," he says. "Maybe it will be the same for you." Randy agrees, but says he knows that also, there's nothing wrong with being alone. Joe taught him that -- you're no good for anyone else until you can be good for yourself. Ned has an epiphany. Back at the Pie Hole, the gang throws a party for the poor Best Friend clients who are now so friendless. It begins as a disaster, of course, but after the first hour, the goobs come out of their shells and make friends with each other. Chuck is relieved. "In another ten minutes," she says, "I was gonna pull out the tequila shots, and if that didn't work, pull the fire alarm and call it a day." Ned asks her to give Digby a hug, extra tight, and she says that, actually, she can hug him all night when she comes to sleep at Ned's place, permanently. Apparently, she and Olive went to town with their feelings and flogged their friendship to death with a big ol' truth club. Ned admits that he has missed her terribly, but says that selfishly he's going to have to turn her down. He may be her king-sized duvet -- in fact, he wants to duvet her right this second -- but he's got to work on being alone for a while, and she really needs to work on her friendship with Olive. "We might not like it," Ned says. "But it's the truth." Chuck sighs. "Well," she says, "I'm gonna need a pie."
And, with shoefly between them, Olive and Chuck patch it up. Meanwhile, Emerson and his mom also fill the void. "I'm your mama, Emmy," she says, "and I need to start acting like it." Emmy! She wants him to feel like he can make mistakes and still tell her about it. Also, she's made some notes on his book -- she wants him to write about the grown-up Emerson Cod, and how great he'd be as a dad. With a kiss on the cheek that actually makes Chi McBride blush, she bids farewell to the real l'il gumshoe, and heads out. Back above the Pie Hole, Ned is enjoying the bachelor life, having some pizza with ol' Digby, when he hears a knock. It's Chuck, wrapped in her duvet. She wanted to wrap him in some goose down goodness, she says, to thank him for doing what was right. "Well, you know," he says, "my duvet was metaphorical." Chuck, dropping the bedspread to reveal her nekkid self: "Yeah, so was mine." With a smile that would light up a city block, Ned's eyebrows nearly burst into flames as he says: "I really missed you."
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