Cr-cr-crappy
Updated 2002-02-09 16:00:00
Liz sits alone at the table for just a minute, until Max "Elton John" Evans makes his way over to the table and kisses her on her shiny, shiny hair. Liz informs Max, "You missed half the set" (meaning "the first nineteen verses of this song"), punishing him appropriately by continuing to talk to him, asking, "Are Isabel and Jesse coming?" Good God, I do hope not. What about Michael? The damaged ex-boyfriend whose heart the bitch broke? No. No, I don't think he'll be coming either. Now Liz is mad: "This is a big thing for Maria. She's been practicing for, like, over a week." Over a week? Now that's dedication, yo. And also a brilliant way to legitimize this huge, not-at-all-continuity-defying event in Maria's life that we heard of for the very first time ever not two TV minutes ago. Liz drives it home: "None of her friends showed up." Translation: she hates you, Max. Max notes Maria up on stage, cowboy hat in hand, eyes squinty, singing the same damn verse again, and (gack!) smiles, "I don't think she's gonna notice." Liz is not amused. Or bemused, even. So Max tries the old sweet touch, putting his arm around her and apologizing. Liz regards him all, "Don't even dream of touching me unless I can't stop the bleeding myself, thanks," and fires a really unwarranted dagger: "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to." Max senses that this can't be all about Meat Loaf Aday -- is it ever? -- so he turns the topic to the Liz-being-a-total-bitch thing, asking, "What's wrong?" Liz thinks on it. This has nothing to do with Meat Loaf Aday: "I think I'm coming down with somethink." He notes that there is a "bad flu going around." And then this line really, actually happens: "It's terrible. Fever. Sore throat. And an uncontrollable urge to dance." Nice! So what kind of fever would that be? Dance Fever? Night Fever? Disco Fever? Um. Max? Max, if you don't tell us, how are we supposed to get the proper shot? Max? MAX? Damn. Now I'm dancing and I feel like crap.
And so they dance their dance of lies. But on her way from the table, Liz puts a hand on the plate that held her dinner, and in doing so melts a large portion of the ceramic from the complete opposite side of where her hand was. A busboy just then comes to clear the plate, which is really hot to the touch and causes him to pull his hand back, all, "That plate is really hot to the touch!" Screw you, wage slave. There's dancing to be danced!
Opening credits: Shut up, bitch.