Season 2, Episode 16: My Desperate Valentine - The USS Crazy Town Has Pulled Into Port, And By That I Mean "Emily Is One Crazy Bitch."

In which Emily loses her ever-loving mind.  Over Brandon.  Yeah.  She's clearly a lunatic.

"Rockin'" music starts up as we open on West Bev, exterior.  Our friend Neon-&-Black Backpack is present and accounted for, this time with Joe E. Tata's name splayed across his ass, in some kind of early prototype of the Juicy Couture velour tracksuit pants.

After a thousandtine exterior shots of a bunch of Nobody Extras wandering around campus, we eventually wind up inside, to this hallway, where Emily and her plaid pajama pants and odd vest she clearly stole from a kids' vintage cowboy costume, stops and sees...

...this guy.  Who is clearly Not Brandon.  But for some reason she thinks it's Brandon.  Even though I could tell you just by looking at the back of him that this is definitely Not Brandon, seeing as this guy's got a good 6 inches on Brandon (I kid, I kid - but not really) and that's totally not Brandon's hair.  And this guy doesn't emit an overwhelming fetor of smug, either, so that's actually all the proof I need.

So because Brandon broke up with her in the previous episode, she decides that she's now going to strangle him to death, which you can see here.  And which I'm all for.  Unfortunately, none of that is true.  She just goes up to Not Brandon and starts giving him what I presume she thinks is a Sexy Massage that will erase the memory of her drugging him to Jesus and then acting like it wasn't a big deal in the slightest.

Oh! But it turns out she was giving so fucking obviously Not Brandon the rubdown, and not the Brandon we've all come to know and loathe and wish was, if not dead, then at least irrevocably muted.  Emily, embarrassed, says, "This is Brandon's locker." Not Brandon, clearly not knowing what he's saying, says, "Not anymore.  They just assigned it to me.  But, uh, I can be Brandon if you want." Nobody wants that, dude.  Nobody.

Over in another part of the hallway, AHHHHHHHHHNdrea comes stomping up to her locker.  And then she creams herself (I assume) after seeing that Actual Brandon has relocated to the same locker bank, which I'm sure she thinks he did on purpose so that he could be closer to her and LOOOOOOOOOOOOVE HER.  WHY WON'T BRANDON LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE HER??? She calls him out on the fact that he's ducking Emily, and he tells her he doesn't want to deal with it at the moment.  AHHHHHHNdrea's all, "Avoidance is how you're dealing with it," and Brandon LIES LIES LIES, "I don't know, I'm just not an in-your-face type of guy," BECAUSE OH, RRRRRRRRRRRRRRLLLLLY? I present to you Exhibits A-thru-FUCKING INFINITY that fly directly in the face of Brandon's proclamation that he's "not an in-your-face type of guy" because is he fucking serious?:

Exhibit A.

Exhibit B.

Exhibit C.

Exhibit D.

Exhibit E.

Exhibit F.

Exhibit G.

Exhibit H.

Exhibit I.

Exhibit ALLLLLL the alphabet.

Exhibit Everything.

Exhibit I've Lost Count.

Exhibit oh fuck it.

I mean, MY GOD, people.  MY GOD.  The lack of self-awareness is astounding.

So then Steve walks up and Brandon makes the same face that I always make when Steve appears onscreen.  And if, like me, you've always assumed that Steve probably has breath that could peel the paint off walls, i.e. like he ate a days-dead muskrat, threw up said muskrat and then ate it again, your assumptions have been confirmed because Brandon asks him, "Man, what'd you have for breakfast? A skunk McMuffin?" here.  Steve says that they're his "fave," which should come as a surprise to one, seeing as I just filled you in on the fact that Steve enjoys consuming decaying-then-regurgitated rodents.

Up walk Donna and Kelly, and you know that time machine I've been tinkering with for a while? Well, instead of heading back to 1991 to maim Brandon in some way, I'm now going to take it back to 1991 in order to steal the CRAP out of Donna's blazer because oh.  My.  GOD.  Bitch's blazer collection is ON POINT.  Kelly's isn't bad, either, but Donna's.  Jesus.  It's so good it aches.

Into the sound booth with DJ Jazzy Dave.  He announces the Homecoming game between West Bev and Bev ("Beverly High may trounce West Beverly High at the annual Homecoming game next week...") and then the Homecoming parade ("...but that doesn't mean we can't have the best floats in the whole parade, so get out your chicken wire, your toilet paper, and, we see ya at halftime."), which in my high school meant getting the one kid with his 1991 Chrysler LeBaron convertible to drive members of the football team down Main Street, but in Beverly Hills meant teaming together and building professional-grade, Rose Parade-worthy floats.  All of this to say that I clearly grew up in the wrong fucking town.

After David's tinny announcement, they head down the hall, Kelly asking, "Do we really have to enter this contest?" Donna declaring that, "It'll be fun!" and AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea piping in with, "You guys, I'm not exactly a member of the pep club, either, but ya know, I really think we have a chance of winning." The only thing you're a member of is AARP, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea, so shove it.  Also: upon closer inspection, yes, Kelly's jacket is amazing.

AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea then asks about the lumber for the float being delivered to House Of Walsh, which Brandon has reservations about, but Steve tells him, "You're the only family in Beverly Hills that actually has tools in their tool shed," which I'm going to believe was Steve's subtle yet clever way of calling Brandon a tool and/or tool shed.  Bravo, Steve.  Bravo.  Kelly asks, "Are Brenda and Dylan committed to this?" because she's ready to step-up her Homewreckin' Long Con, and Brandon starts to answer her...

...but he's distracted by Emily's terrible hair, odd, plastic-looking vest that looks like it came from one of those horrible '80s' vinyl Halloween costumes, fucking BOSS bag and general presence as she enters a classroom down the hall.  AHHHHHHHNdrea breaks him out of his state of distraction (lasting effects of the U4EA, I presume) and he tells everyone that Brenda designed the float.  Is there anything Our Brenda can't do?

It's agreed that the entirety of The Gang will participate in the float festivities, and then everyone's off in their respective directions.  Brandon looks into AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's perm, makes this face and asks her, "You don't feel like editing the sports page today, do ya?" She advises him, "It's not gonna get any easier unless you tell her the truth." I'm pretty sure he already covered that in the last episode:

In spades.

Into the Blaze office.  This dork, John Griffin, who sports a curly mullet that rivals Steve's in terms of offensiveness (and who we eventually find out later in the season is a virgin in love with AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea because he's got just the worst self-esteem), reads from a piece of paper: "'And have you noticed that all the rich kids north of Sunset have the biggest egos and the smallest brains?'" If he's talking about Steve, then yes, I have noticed that.  Also: dude's rocking a sensible sweater from the Jim Walsh for Gap Collection.  Emily informs AHHHHHHHNdrea and Brandon, "Phantom pen pal strikes again," as it's apparently the seventh letter in two weeks that the Blaze has received.  John thinks that the author should get their own column in the school paper and continues to read what he calls the "pure social satire" aloud: "'Wouldn't it be hysterical to see what your basic West Beverly princesses would do if somebody slashed their BMW convertibles to shreds?'" Emily calls the writer "twisted" and if you haven't already figured out that it's her who's been writing these things then you obviously need to bone up on the nuances of cliché-soaked t.v. by taking my forthcoming seminar, 1990's Television & All Its Fucking Terribly Predictable Tropes.

AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea then rides everybody's ass about getting back to work because this is the goddamn New York Times and she's a total buzzkill.  As Brandon goes over to some drafting? table? Emily follows him and rather than just doing us all a favor and stabbing him in his exposed neck right here, she simply asks, "Why'd you move your locker?" And then the creepy Emily's A Creep Music starts up in the background.  Be prepared to hear it so much this episode, you'll be humming it in the shower, while you urinate, while you make yourself a pimento loaf sandwich, and as you hacksaw into your femoral artery in an effort to end it all because you can't get the fucking spooky, Twin Peaks-ish tune out of your head.

Brandon turns around all butch, like he's really gonna lay down the law with her, saying, "You wanna know the real reason?" even though she already knows the real reason, like, we went over this in the last episode.  While I dislike Brandon, I really don't appreciate the way Emily puts him on the defensive in this episode, essentially placing the onus of their break up on him, like he overreacted because she dared speak to another guy or something.  She fucking drugged him without his knowledge or consent.  That right there is more than goddamn enough for him to never talk to her again.  Also: you know what's really fun? Getting all hot under the collar about things that happened on a television show 25 years ago.  You should try it some time! Anyway, Brandon wimps out and loses the stern edge in his voice and lies, "I was just spending so much time here I figured it'd be more convenient." And then he bolts.

And then Emily stands there all dumb cunt, like she has anything at all to be pissed about.

Later, she catches up to him after journalism or Blaze class or whatever in the hell goes on in this school.  She tries to sound casual in her attempts to hang with Brandon, suggesting that go out and that, "It's been two weeks since we've been together when I drugged you against your will and could've possibly killed you," except for not most of that.  He insists that he has to study, she asks to study with him, he tells her that they probably wouldn't get too much studying done that way (because he'd be anesthetized from the Mickey she slipped him, I assume), and then she starts to push it some more with, "Brandon, aren't we ever gonna..." but realizes it's a lost cause so she lets him go and proceeds to mentally make plans to lie some more and terrorize him and his family and friends and light things ablaze and basically act like a real pest about the whole thing.

Fade in to the House Of Walsh.

And then there's yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas.  A little somethin'-somethin' for all of us who appreciate a little Dylan-on-Brenda action.  Man they're so hot, all tangled legs and light-wash jeans and a little grab-ass for good measure.  I'm going to completely ignore the fact that there's a bunch of lip-smacking and saliva-bubble-popping accompanying the lead-in to this scene, because for Christ's sake.

Brenda eventually pushes Dylan's face off of her face, basically telling him that all they do anymore is make-out and, "We should be doing more than this." Dylan agrees and suggests going upstairs, waka-waka, but Brenda denies him and says that they need to broaden their horizons: "...we should make a little extra effort to do something interesting, or cultural," so that they won't feel so guilty for all the dry-humping and over-the-ill-fitting-Levi handies (I'm paraphrasing).

So then we fade to exterior, H.O.W.  Nighttime.  The Mustang sits in the driveway.

Into Brandon's room, he sits at his dinosaur of a computer, typing up another race-relation-healing exposé, no doubt.  Oh, he doesn't mend the Los Angeles race-divide yet again until the Season 3 episode "Home and Away," you say? Never mind.  Perhaps he's just following in AHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's esteemed footsteps and doing a write-up of the apparent degradation of the West Beverly School District's cafeteria culture that will win some asinine award which will in turn stir up some living-out-of-the-district drama that no one goddamn cares about.  Anyway.

The phone rings a few times, each one being a hang-up after he answers (which, honestly, is what I would do if I called somewhere and Brandon answered), and he finally gets all butch for the second time this episode and picks up the final call with a "Listen, pal, I hope you're havin' a good time, 'cause I'm about to call the phone company and they're gonna track ya down, you got that?" I've never been more afraid of a Keebler Elf in my life, you guys.

But, as it turns out, this call was coming from Steve, who's at the Peach Pit on the payphone.  Taken aback, he tells Brandon, "You gotta get outta the house a little more, Walsh," and then pops innumerable Woodrows as he inquires, "You got yourself a heavy breather?" Steve tells Brandon to get down to the Peach Pit to hang out (how thrilling) but Brandon denies him, saying, "I already put in a 30-hour work week behind the counter." As.  IF.  And if it's actually true, probably 28 of those 30 hours were spent jib-jabbing with your friends and polishing your spatula that you always carry around for some reason.  Steve tells him to come down and be a customer, "See how the other half lives."

Then we get a quick jump to Trash-Haired (née Worthless) Nat saying, "Forget it.  I'm not gonna bring you any hot sauce.  You know where it is," as he sets Steve's and Brandon's bowls of chili on the table in front of them.  Nice customer service as always, Nat.

Steve insists that Nat show Brandon some respect and that he's "a paying customer." Nat tells them that both their meals are on the house, because, as previously discussed, Nat is a terrific businessman who isn't driving his greasy-spoon diner directly into the ground.  As a side-note: why are they sitting on the same side of the table? I only do that with my boyfriend and if anyone else attempted to sit next to me when we're the only two at the table I'd tell them to step off.  And to answer everyone's question: yes, I have a lot of friends, mostly of the imaginary variety.  

After Nat walks away, Steve directs the conversation back to Emily: "If she's not getting the message, you just have to be firm.  Spell it out.  Tell her, 'adiós, sayanora, au revoir, finito.' Tell her it doesn't work, that it's over.  Period." This may be a first, but I actually agree with Steve here.

So then of course Emily walks in, most likely because she tailed Brandon from his house to the Peach Pit, only letting him out of her sight long enough to allow him enter the Pit while giving her time to SPOILER ALERT slash her motorcycle tires in the parking lot and miraculously not draw any attention to herself in the process, seeing as slashing one's tires is a perfectly reasonable thing to be doing, in a public space, no less.  Brandon sees her, immediately feels guilty, telling Steve, "Oh, God, I told her I was studying," which apparently means he's not allowed out of the house to go grab a meal? Steve's only advice? Another (amazingly - for Steve) logical suggestion: "Be firm."

Emily (who hasn't washed her hair since at least the fall equinox, as evidenced here) approaches the table all, "What a coincidence.  I thought you were committed to the books tonight," because, again, if you say you're going to be studying it's set in stone and no deviation, not even nourishment, is allowed.  Brandon informs her that he's just taking a break, to which she responds, "Well, my parents are outta town for the weekend and I'm here for dinner.  Mind if I join you?"

Steve offers up his seat next, excusing himself with, "I gotta make a few phone calls." As a sixteen-year-old.  On the payphone.  With a bowl of chili in hand.  Whatever, he then makes this chopping motion on the back of his neck to Brandon as Emily sits down, which was actually pretty funny.  Steve's not completely pissing me off this episode.  And he didn't last episode, either.  So, thanks for that, Steve.  I might not totally want to bypass the next two Steve-centric episodes after all.

What follows Steve's departure is torturous and embarrassing on ALL levels: Emily tells Brandon that she was just thinking about him (I mean, we've already figured out that she's severely mentally ill and all) and here he is at the restaurant she totally stalked him to.  Will wonders never cease? She calls it "kismet" (because she's clearly in the process of writing the screenplay to Sleepless in Seattle) and that they're "two lovers [it was at this point that I lost complete control of my faculties and proceeded to run amok, naked as a jaybird, up and down my street and screaming obscenities, because you all know how I feel about the word "lovers"] who are destined to be together forever and ever."  

Brandon (who looks fairly dreamboaty here, sans the jacket and the strand of hair that he clearly pulled out and curled with a 1½-inch iron before leaving the house), however, feels the exact opposite of what Emily's feeling, which he fills her in on for the 167th time: "I don't know how else to say this except just say it, so I hope you understand - I don't think we should see each other anymore." Emily moistens up her eyes, saying that she understands that he's "mad" about her drugging him and that it was the stupidest thing she ever did and that she loves him and, "You know that I'd never do anything to hurt you." Erm...I would consider allowing this to happen would be considered hurting him:

Absolutely.

Anyway, she begs and pleads some more and once again places the burden on him by asking, "Why can't you give me a second chance?" like he just needs to get over it, which is such a load of shit, I can't even, and then she pathetically concludes with, "Please.  I'll do anything.  Anything," by which I'm pretty sure she means anal.  Brandon remains steadfast in his decision, denying her when she suggests he take another couple of weeks to think about.  And he's all, "Bye, bitch" and I'm officially over this remake of Fatal Attraction and, I can't believe I'm going to say this, but can we move on to the story line surrounding Steve and his quest to find his biological mother? Mostly because we finally get served some Samantha Sanders Realness up in this bitch?:

I mean, come on.  The woman has shoulder pads in her bathrobe.  If that's not the essence of "class" I don't know what is.

So then we're out back in the parking lot? Where Emily rode up and proceeded to slash her own tires? I guess.  It's really hoppin' back here on a Friday night.  Anyway, Brandon and Emily round the corner and she tells him (as if he gives one hard shit about it), "If I had a fairy godmother and she could grant me one wish, it would be to turn back the clock and start over." He's all, "Yeah.  Me too.  Whatevs," but we all know he's as over this as we are and ready to move on to his next Flavor Of The Week Girlfriend.  He tells her to have a good night and then starts to bounce but then RUH ROH:

ZOMG WHODUNIT???  Emily.  It was Emily.

She gets all weepy and posits, "It's probably the same guy that wants to slash all the BMWs," and Brandon would seriously rather be doing anything at all than dealing with this high-drama train-wreck, especially after she spews out the attention-seeking siren song of loons everywhere: "Why didn't he just slash my throat while he was at it?" Oh, criminy.

But of course Brandon falls for it and hugs her and she most certainly believes that they're totes back together now, because tall tales, manipulation and arson are the key to any healthy and stable long-term relationship.

Serious Piano Music plays us over to a fade-in of Brenda's room, where Cindy's exiting the bathroom with towels as Brandon and Emily unfold a cot.  I seem to recall a giant couch in the Walsh living room - why the fuck isn't Emily staying on that? Or on the cot in the living room? Why is she being foisted on Brenda? The fuck? So Emily tells them that they didn't have to go to all that trouble for her crazy-ass, but Cindy kindly informs her, "Oh, it's no trouble.  It's our pleasure." Not for long, Cin.

Brandon starts back through the Jack-and-Jill, cheese-dicking, "And if you need anything, feel free to call the concierge," as he goes.  Don't make me go back to detesting you and thinking that you deserve everything you have coming to you this episode, dude.

He walks into his room, where Brenda, probably wondering if  her bedside water is being sprinkled with U4EA by Emily at this very moment, sits on his bed, all, "Ya know, even the Holiday Inn gets a little warning before a guest checks in." Brandon asks what he was supposed to do and she takes a page out of my book and advises, "Oh, well, let's see: drop her off at her house?" When he tells her that Emily's parents are totally not at all out of town, Brenda gives no fucks and snarks, "Poor baby, afraid of the dark, huh?" He says that getting your tires slashed at your own hands is a creepy thing and invokes wise words from Cindy: "It's like Mom says, if we can't show compassion for people in trouble, then why are we put on this earth?" That Cindy Walsh - What A Sage.

Brenda, meanwhile, is having none of it: "Yeah, well, Mom didn't see you as high as a kite on the U4EA Emily slipped into your drink." Brandon asks if she has to bring that up every time Emily's mentioned, to which Brenda and I screech, "YES.  OF COURSE.  SHE'S TERRIBLE,  WHICH SHE PROVED IN THE PREVIOUS EPISODE BY DRUGGING YOU, YOU NINNY," but really, Brenda says, "Yes, because I don't trust her...and I don't like the way she's taking advantage of you."

He then says that her and Dylan are the only two people who know that Emily spiked his drink that night and, "I'd like to keep it that way." Brenda, along with Humanity, asks why he insists on protecting her.  Brandon: "Because I don't wanna see her become the 'outcast' just because I break up with her." This is maybe where I could see that Brandon's a pretty decent person, but also a complete imbecile.  Brenda's only response is to say, "Fine," and then huffily exit the room.

Oh Christ, and now HERE WE GO.  In Brenda's room sometime later, we see Brenda asleep as Emily rises from the cot and looks over at her.  She gets up out of bed and the Spooky Music starts up, so you know she's about to get her Fucking Psycho Ex-Girlfriend on.

Next we get a shot of Brandon in bed asleep, wearing doctor's scrubs and groaning and rolling over as Emily enters to smother him to death.  Or just to Do The It with him.  Whatever.

She picks up what is presumably one of seventeen Minnesota Twins jerseys scattered about the room from the foot of the bed, looks at him again and then sets it down.  I was expecting her to smell the pits of the thing, to get some Eau de Brandon (top notes: smugness, shaved leprechaun gold, unearned superiority) flowing through her.

She then proceeds to make my eyes bleed vomit by getting into bed with him and kissing his face.  He wakes up and things go from bad to worse for my innards when she bowel-churningly asks, "Is the concierge open for business?" So then they really start going at it - I mean, I assume they do.  I can't actually see things anymore, given the fact that the bile I just shot out of my eyes burned them out of their sockets.  He's all into it at first but then he implausibly stops it, telling her, "No, Emily, we're not doin' this.  You better go," and then when she begins to protest, "What do you want, you wanna be with me tonight and have me break up with you tomorrow morning? Is that what you want?" She apparently thinks she's got some blue-ribbon pussy to offer up because she's all, "If we make love right now, I promise you won't wanna break up with me." Such is the power of her loins.  He informs her, "Emily, to make love I have to be in love," which is a lovely sentiment and all, but ohhhhhhhhhh pleeeeeeeeease.  He's a teenage boy.  He'd have sex with his sister if he could.  And tries to have sex with her at least once an episode.

Emily is done humiliating herself for the time being so she says, "Okay.  I'll leave." She gets out of the bed and stands next to it, looks down at him and, with a spooky layer of saccharine coating her voice, says, "Remember, Brandon, I love you."

Once again, the creepy Emily's A Creep Music starts up as we zoom in on a furrow-browed Brandon, looking all concerned. seeing as I assume he just piddled himself in the face of Emily's burgeoning psychosis and the stark realization that he's probably going to be made into a lampshade in the very near future.

The next morning we're in the Kitchen Of Walsh and OF COURSE Cindy's on the phone.  It's her favorite fucking pastime! As she speaks to whomever it is (it's Emily's presumably shit mother) Brandon comes traipsing in and sits next to Brenda at the counter.  Cindy's all, "She's safe and sound.  Yes, Emily spent the night here, it's no problem at all.  And she even attempted to suck Brandon off in the middle of the night, which I totally don't have a problem with, obviously.  I'm not like a regular mom.  I'm a cool mom."

Emily walks in as Cindy starts, "Well, we felt, with her tire being slashed..." and then she yanks the receiver out of Cindy's hand (because that's not alarming behavior in the slightest) and says, "Thank you, Mrs. Walsh.  I'll talk to her." Ain't nobody step to Cindy Mother-Fucking Walsh like that, so she coolly tells Emily, "Of course," and walks away while mentally strangling the bitch with an arm from her most sensible blouse from Lands' End.

Emily's conversation with her mom: "Hi.  Didn't you get the message.  No, my tire was slashed.  Well, Brandon drove me.  No, Mom, I slept in Brenda's room.  His sister." Just so we're all on the same page, her parents totally weren't "out of town," right? Right.

Cindy and Brenda seem to realize something is amiss and they exchange A Look here and it is amazing.

Emily's off the phone and Brandon asks if everything is okay.  Emily's all, "Yeah, sure.  They just got home early,"...

...which is met with another Look traded between Brenda and Cindy, and if this entire episode was just of the two of them swapping judgmental Bitch Faces like this I would be thrilled.

Gerggihiohsjdfkhdksle.  That's the sound I just made because we're now doing the whole It's Like We're Looking Through An Actual Video Camera! thing that this show so loves to employ.  This time, we're out on the Driveway Of Walsh where The Gang has set up shop to work on their professional grade Homecoming parade float.  We see that Dylan (wearing ridiculous protective goggles) and Brenda are using a table saw? Yeah, Jim so seems the type to have these next-level kinds of tools in his garage.  I'll bet he's a regular New Yankee Workshop on the weekends.  Oh, and Tool Brandon walks around, aptly, with a tool belt slung from his midsection.  He's really bringing The Butch this episode, no?

So then David (because OF COURSE it's David) pans over to Steve, saying, "You're doing a great job but do you think you could look a little more carpenter-esque?" Steve in turn tells David to get bent and then does this with the drill he's holding and unfortunately doesn't pierce David's skull to the point that David dies.

We're back to Real Life View or whatever the fuck and David informs everyone that it's important to film this, as, "Some West Beverly floats have been accused of being built by professionals." I have no fucks to give about anything coming out of his mouth.

Donna arrives, dressed as an extra from Clueless, telling everyone, "Hi, guys! Sorry I'm late." This is the kind of schtick Tori Spelling excelled at in the early seasons.

Kelly asks about her outfit and Donna, adorably air-headed, says, "Oh, well, AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea said carpentry." Brenda says that Donna can help with the painting and we get another gem as Donna incredulously tells her, "Paint? I'm not getting paint on these clothes." Trust me - it was charming.

Oh, gag me.  Emily exits the H.O.W. wearing none other than Brandon's Twins shirt.  WHO CARES.  Like I said, he probably has dozens of them lying around.  Brenda, however, is scandalized, telling the other girls, "I can't believe she's wearing that.  That's Brandon's prize shirt from the '87 series.  I mean, he's gonna go ballistic."

Ballistic he does not go, not immediately, anyway.  He merely gives Emily the old up-and-down and then talks to Dylan about "power-sand[ing]" something.  The smug look right off his face? Hopefully.

Emily, in turn, looks all Sad Sack because Brandon didn't promptly lick her bush upon seeing her in the shirt.

AHHHHHNdrea approaches Emily with, "Cute shirt." Emily nutsos, "I spent last night here with Brandon, and I had nothing to wear this morning." The look on AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's face somehow makes all of this worth it.  But Emily doesn't stop there: "Brandon invited me to stay over last night, and things got a little...well, you know." Horribly awkward? Because that's how that sentence should end.  Anyway, AHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea, properly appalled, walks away with a, "I gotta check the paint," meaning, "I gotta go check that my heart didn't just drop out of my asshole."

Steve heads over to Brandon and Dylan, asking, "I thought you blew her off." Brandon says that she "blew back in" but that he "didn't lay a hand on her" the night before.  Dylan can't believe that he would allow someone to wear the fucking Twins jersey and Brandon fills Dylan in on the fact that Emily won't get it through her greasy skull that Brandon no longer wishes to aggressively grab the back of her neck while making out with her anymore.

Dylan advises that Brandon obviously didn't make it clear enough and Brandon's all, "What am I supposed to do? Be brutal? That's not me, man," to which Dylan replies, "No, you're still tryin' to be Brandon Walsh, the all-American nice guy, right?" and Brandon says, "What can I say?" and oh, he's just so smuggy.  I hope Emily murders him.  Dylan asks, "You're afraid of what would happen to her if you dumped her?" Which Brandon ALREADY DID, CRYSTAL CLEARLY, but whatever, he replies, "I guess." My sentiment from a couple of sentences ago about hoping that Emily goes all homicidal on Brandon flies directly in the face of what Dylan says next: "Man, I'm afraid of all the things that could happen to you if you don't."  Again: HE ALREADY DID MY GOD.

So then Jim and Cindy arrive on the scene for seriously all of about 10 seconds looking like a couple of dweebs.  Brenda tells them, "Come on, you two! Pitch in! I wanna see you sweat." I do not want to see Jim sweat, seeing as it would probably lead to a rerun of this waking nightmare.

Dylan comes up from behind Brenda and says, "Yeah, well, I wanna see you sweat," and as is often the case for me on this show, had that dick-cheese-encrusted line been uttered by Brandon or Steve, my hands and laptop would most definitely be covered in last night's dinner. But since it was Dylan and since he was saying it to Brenda, it was so, so hot.  Brenda objects, however, telling him, "Dylan, not now.  My parents are right over there." He says that he'll just have to wait until he gets her alone at the concert they're attending that night and she whines, "You promised!"

Dylan informs her, "I was just kidding," and then cute-ishly whips her with a shop rag and runs and then she chases him and I despise the use of the hashtag but seriously: #relationshipgoals  And yes, I'm a 35-year-old woman in a great 10-year relationship saying this.  And no, my and my boyfriend's relationship is nothing like Brenda and Dylan's, and that's a good thing.  But please - let me be 11-years-old for a moment and think that theirs is an ideal union.

We cut over to Brandon in this strange pose where he's sort of staring off into nothing and smiling.  I assume we're supposed to think he's been standing there, grinning after his parents for 2 minutes?

No bother, here's Emily sidling up beside him, saying, "You're avoiding me." Well, I mean, with your gross hair and all.  He's probably afraid he's going to catch the mange or something.

But really, he gets all sorts of huffy and tells her, "Ya know, Emily, between me and Brenda, we must have four-dozen t-shirts and sweatshirts.  Why'd you have to choose my favorite one?" She tells him that it makes her feel closer to him, and HELLO that is beyond-disturbing.  Brandon bypasses that ook and instead says that she's going to get paint all over it.  They go around a few more times before she says that she'll just take it off and starts to unbutton.  Brandon angrily prevents this from happening, asking, "What is it with you? Are you just tryin' to be funny or are you tryin' to drive me crazy?"

This broad is cray.

Classical music starts up in the background as we fade to a fancy-looking room somewhere, with a small stage where a string quartet is playing...something.  It's nice.  Although not a place where you would ever, ever see a couple of teenagers on a Saturday night.

We pan back a few rows to Brenda and Dylan, both looking Hot As Fuck and clearly ready to sex-down.

Dylan leans into Brenda with, "Well, we're off to a promising start." She begins, "It's so..." which he finishes for her: "Romantic?"

And then she looks at him like this and it's obvious that they're already Doing The It with each other in their minds.

We get this shot of two of the violinists...

...and then back to Dylan reaching over and taking Brenda's hand in his, caressing it and bringing it to his chest, looking at her like DROP YOUR PANTIES, BRENDA.  They lean in to each other like they're going to start up again...

...and GODDAMN IT I don't care about these string dorks being done...

...and clearly, neither do Brenda or Dylan.  They're full-on macking now and the people behind them look semi-scandalized, but then the lady sort of shrugs like, "Eh.  I would too, if I was them."

West Bev, the next whatever.

Brenda and Kelly enter the hallway, Brenda recounting the story from the concert: " I feel so sorry for the people sitting behind us. They must've thought we were so immature.  We couldn't go 20 minutes without pawing each other." I love the way Shannen Doherty says "pawing" here.    Blah, blah Brenda says her and Dylan are going to go to another concert the following week to test themselves again blah.  The girls pass the staircase where Brandon's coming down, Emily hot on his heels...

...and she now plays the "it's cool that we're broken up, I'm totally fine" card, apologizing for all the non-sexy bedroom antics and the wearing of the MOTHER OF PEARL Twins jersey: "I want you to know if you never spoke to me again, I'd understand...I fell for ya hard.  But if it's not gonna work out, it's not gonna work out.  And that's cool.  But I will BURN YOUR FUCKING HOUSE TO THE GROUND.  Friends?"

She reaches her hand out for a shake and then Brandon follows suit, but first he has to wipe his palm on his jeans, because he, I don't know, was just jacking off in the men's room? Anyway, they shake on it.

Then this dildo comes up and now that I think about it, he and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea should totally date, seeing as they're both irrepressible irritants when it comes to anything remotely related to The Blaze.  Here, he's sporting his second Woodrow of the episode because they received another demented letter from Emily the "phantom pen pal." Brandon tries to calm the twerp down, nonsensically advising him, "Listen, Geraldo, AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's worked hard to keep gossip outta the paper.  And I don't think now is the time to start putting it in." WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN? It's a high school paper.  There's nothing to "keep out." This isn't fucking hard-hitting journalism here, it's listing the cafeteria menu for the week and reporting the scores of the football game.  GAH.  Anyway, John describes the most recent letter as "psycho time" as Emily beams proudly at such an favorable description of her work.

So into the newsroom we go, where AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's reading the letter: "'...and it will be my pleasure to throw gasoline on the fire that burns this school to the ground.'" Brandon asks, "He expects us to print this?" and AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea declares, "That's what he's demanding, but we're obviously not gonna give a nutcase a forum." As a sidebar, AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea looks especially 41 in this scene.

This fuckin' guy.  He's all, "Hey, like it or not, baby, this is news." I never thought I could hate someone more than I hate Brandon, but this dude's definitely making a solid run for the title.  AHHHHHHHNdrea snaps back, "I'm sorry.  There is nothing newsworthy about hate mail.  I mean, listen how he ends this: 'And if some of the little bitches get caught in the flames, toss me another marshmallow.'" You kiss your grandmother with that mouth, Zuck? Brandon thinks they should take it to the police and Serious Synthesized High Hat Music plays in the background.

To the K.O.W and the phone ringing.  Jim scurries inside, presumably home from work.  He grabs the receiver and says, "Hold on a sec, let me turn this thing off," meaning the answering machine, which beeps as he presses the "stop" button or cranks a lever or sends a smoke signal or whatever it is we used to do to get our answering machines to turn off back in the Ye Olde Timey Days.  He's all, "Hi, sorry about that," and of course Emily whomever is on the opposite end hangs up.  Jim looks down at the machine (which I'm pretty certain is the model my family had at some point in the early-90s, before upgrading to a cream-colored model, which, as you can imagine, was très chic)...

...AND THERE'S 16 MESSAGES WHAAAAAAAAAAA??? WHO COULD THEY B...Emily.  They're from Emily.

Shot of Jim looking all Concerned Jim as the Daunting Synth Music plays.

Sometime later, we're in the kitchen with the entirety of the Family Walsh, Jim (who more likely came home that afternoon from rehearsals for the West Beverly Community Theatre's production of Wall Street: The Musical rather than work, given his outfit) pressing the button on the answering machine and Brandon saying, "Come on, Dad.  What's up? The suspense is killin' me." Jim says, "Listen to this." And then we get Emily's voice emanating from the machine, all, "Hi.  It's me, Brandon.  I was just thinking of you." Brandon cuts in here with, "It's Emily." Nothin' gets past you, eh, sharp guy?

She continues: "Your baby blues and that totally disarming smile that fills any rainy day I have with sunshine." Sweet.  Mother.  It's at this point that Brandon and Brenda get up from their stools and walk closer to the machine, unable to wrap their minds around the words coming out of Emily's mouth just like the rest of us.  She finishes up her little mania-inducing monologue with, "I miss you, Brandon.  I miss being next to you.  The feel of your arms wrapped around me.  The touch of your skin, the way you caress my body," before Brandon pounds on the button to turn the machine off, saying, "I think we get the picture, Dad." Yes, we unfortunately do.

Jim takes a cue from his son and gets all butch, saying, "There's 12 more here just like it if you wanna listen to them.  What the hell is goin' on here, Brandon?" Before his son can answer, the phone rings, Jim picks it up, says, "Hello? Hello, Emily?" before he's predictably hung up on.  He declares, "I'm getting sick of this," and his Ignorant Slut of a wife offers, "We don't know that was her."

Jim continues with, "It's pretty obvious that she wanted me and your mother to hear those messages.  Which I don't think is the sign of a balanced person." Brandon laughably understates Emily as being "pretty upset" since he broke up with her, but that he spoke to her at school earlier and, "She acted like everything was okay." Brenda points out, "The key word being 'acted.'"

So then Daft Cow Cindy chimes in with a bunch of hogwash: "Well, now, let's not be too harsh.  I mean, Brenda, remember just a few months ago with Dylan? You said it yourself.  I mean, breaking up is hard to do." Wow, bitch.  Just...wow.

Brenda doesn't slap her mother in response as she should've, she just tells her, "That was completely different.  Emily Valentine has stepped way over the line.  I mean, this isn't about a broken heart.  This is about a fatal attraction." Brandon asks, "And how did Michael Douglas handle it?" to which Brenda responds, "Not well," and gives him this look:

Which is maybe one of my favorite Brenda Moments in the entire series.  The phone rings for the 817th time this episode, Jim answers, we get the hang-up and the dial tone and Emily's A Creep in b-sharp plays us out of the scene.

The next morning we're in Brandon's room; he's tying his shoelaces and Brenda comes around the corner looking RAD, I might add, in an over-sized blue silk shirt, tie and slacks.  So Diane Keaton it hurts.  She asks him if he's ready to go and he's all, "Ready, set, go," because he's a choad.  She observes that he's got a lot of energy and he tells her that he got a lot of sleep the night before and shows her the receiver that he took off the hook as a solution to Emily's deranged crank calling.  She advises that, "beating Emily at her own game for one night is fine, but you can't go through your whole life with your phone off the hook." He says that he doesn't know what to do; Brenda suggests that she take a shot at Emily, which, if it goes anything like this, I'm all for it:

Because: yaaaaaasss.

Brandon states the obvious by saying, "The girl's kinda messed up." Brenda (accurately) takes it several steps further with, "Gimme a break, I mean, she's bothered in the extreme.  They way she sounded on the answering machine last night, I wouldn't be surprised if she was a hardcore stoner." Everything she just said gives me life.

Brandon goes on the defensive by telling her, "You don't know that about her.  You don't know anything about her." And then she serves her brother some Real Talk with a side of GET A CLUE: "Yeah, well, neither do you.  Have you been inside her house, Brandon? Have you met her parents? Do you know any of her friends from her old school? Face it, Brandon.  Nobody knows who this girl is." Exactly.  All we really know about her is that she has horrible taste in both hairstyles and guys.

Next we're on the Front Porch Of Walsh where Brandon and Brenda are exiting to head to school.  But wait! ~Someone~ has left a couple of spooky gifts on the porch! I wonder who they're from!  But seriously: that's how the both of them act.  Like, they're seriously curious about who this shit is from.  Because they don't watch enough obvious television like I do, I guess.  Anyway, Brandon picks up a shirt-box that has the Twins jersey in it and Brenda brings up a tin that has a cake in it.  She reads the attached card aloud: "'Sorry to you and your family.  Emily.'" Brandon questions, "Maybe we were a little off on the Fatal Attraction theory, huh?" but Brenda knows better: " No, Brandon, we're dead on it and deep in it."

He takes a swipe of the frosting from the cake with his finger, saying, "Looks good." Brenda, again, cautions him against the consumption of possibly-drug-seasoned baked goods: "Don't eat that.  Look, this whole thing could be dosed with U4EA or worse.  I repeat, you don't know who this girl is." Brenda is so wise, you guys.

Over to West Bev, Emily enters the Blaze office carrying a Ye Olde Timey typewriter, which she explains to AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea was given to her by her father and that, "this has probably seen wars, maybe even typed a novel in Paris, who knows." AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea, in turn, has fucking eight nerdgasms over the thing, dorking out, "Mm, you can feel the keys, it's got a real strength, this machine.  I love it." Oh, please shut up, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea.  Emily says that she's giving the typewriter to the paper and the mayor of Frump Town, USA thinks she's important and frumps, "I can't accept this." Because you run the paper now? Not a member of the faculty who would actually make the decision? God, fuck OFF, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea.  I can't.  I cannot.

Blah blah Emily tells Mayor McFrump that she's quitting the paper because she "really blew it with Brandon," which wins the coveted title of Understatement Of The Episode, blah.  AHHHHHHHHNdrea manages to compliment someone else for a change and says, "Your writing's getting really good and if you wanna stay, it's okay with me." Emily thanks her and starts to leave the room but then AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea does no one a favor (especially Brandon) and tells her about the "inauguration" of the parade float later in the day, where The Gang is going to take a picture of themselves with their creation and whatever, who cares.  Emily's all, "I'm really not in a big rush to be where I'm not wanted," which is pretty much the exact opposite of what she's been doing this entire episode, but AHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea insists that she come: "You belong in that picture." Or in a padded cell.  Whatever.

Hallway.  Donna's dressed in something not unlike what you might see on one Stephanie Tanner.  Or me in the fifth grade.  Brenda tells the girls that Dylan's taking her, "out for an evening of Paganini." A charmingly dimwitted response from Donna: "Oh, their pasta is supposed to be excellent."

They wind up standing in the middle of the hallway like a bunch of assholes.  Brenda sees Emily approaching her locker and tells the other two, "I would really just like to bust that girl's chops sometimes." Kelly asks what the deal is and Brenda informs her that Emily's "doing a major obsession job on Brandon," which takes second place in the Understatement Of The Episode race.  Kelly attempts to downplay Emily's nefarious ways with, "I used to do that all the time...in 8th grade, I sent Ronnie Lightstone perfumed love letters and called him ten times a day." Donna asks, even though we've been led to believe that these two have been BFFs 4 4EVER, "And what happened?" Kelly explains, "Well, his mother paid a visit to my mother and I got grounded, lost my phone privileges and learned the gentle art of subtlety." Subtlety such as this:

And this:

And this:

Our Jackie: Queen Of Subtlety.

(Also, let me point out that to Kelly, the "gentle art of subtlety" means "waiting for your friend to travel halfway around the world before making a move on her boyfriend, and then lying about it for-fucking-ever." Classy.)

Anyway, the bell rings, Brenda reminds Donna and Kelly about the float picture later, Donna and Kelly are off to do Blonde Things, and Brenda stays behind to throw Emily some more stink-eye.

Cut to the Driveway Of Walsh where The Gang's putting the finishing touches on the float.  Let's not even discuss that the thing says, "West Beverly Blaze - November 2010" and realize that that was 5 years ago, but when we first watched it, it felt like it was eons away and we're all fucking ancient but at least we can drink so let's go get wasted and pretend not to be depressed by this at all.

As you can see, Dylan's wearing one of his Baja poncho-blanket things.  I was recently on Olvera Street in downtown L.A. for the first time and these things are everywhere.  And of course all I could think of was Dylan and his vast collection of them.  And not the actual Day of the Dead celebrations going on around me.  Because I'm a failure at life.  I've come to accept it; you should, too.

David dweebs, "Wow, check it out." Brenda, looking down the driveway: "Check that out," meaning AHHHHHHHHHNdrea walking up with Emily in tow.  

I think the more alarming aspect of their arrival should be the fact that a 41-year-old woman is sporting a t-shirt with a kerchief attached to the collar.  But hey, that's just me.  Brandon sidesteps Emily and goes to AHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea to inquire, "Why'd you have to bring her?" AHHHHHHHHNdrea, who probably only really cares about ensuring the she gets her grade-grubbing, nerdly hands on Emily's vintage typewriter, says, "Come on, Brandon, she worked as hard as everybody else.  I couldn't leave her out."

Then it's picture time! Which goes terribly awry and is as fucking awkward as you think it might be after this moment which still makes me cringe and look away and cry a lot to this day:

May I please be excused so that I can go bathe and gargle with turpentine now? Brandon has an appropriately fed up reaction: "Damn it, Emily, enough!" 

And then the whole lot of them look over, and the camera continues to whir and then it takes a picture, and I'm certain this is a moment everyone's going to want to remember and cherish forever and ever.

So here's what he has to say, and while I would usually want to punch him in his Patented Abrasive Brandon Mouth, I don't this time because he has every right in the world to be at the end of his rope: "Don't touch me, don't call me, don't leave cakes on my doorstep, don't manipulate situations so you wind up in my bedroom, and don't lie to my friends about some night of passion that never happened, all right? I tried to do this the nice way, but you won't take a hint!" Go Butch!

Uch.  So now it's Emily's turn and all she really does is piss me off some more and victimize herself and somehow twist it all around into Brandon's Making Me Out To Be A Slut, which is just so not at all what he's saying here, and you can really tell how much something bothers me when I'm defending fucking Brandon.  Here's her maddening little speech, if you care or wish to achieve my level of fury: "I can't help it.  I love you.  When I first moved to L.A., a lot of guys were hitting on me, and I had my pick." Here we get this shot of Brenda turning around to look at Dylan...

...seemingly saying with her eyes, "Yeah, you made out with this crazy bitch." Dylan, in turn, looks appropriately disgusted with himself and looks away.

Back to Emily: "But then I went out with you.  I thought you were different.  I thought you were special.  I thought what we had was special.  That's why I wanted my first time to be with you, so my first time would be something I'd always want to remember." Let me interject here with WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING.  Moving on: "You gave me something to remember, all right.  When I first moved here, everyone thought I was a slut."

Another shot of Dylan looking away, revolted that he ever stuck his tongue in Emily's unhinged mouth as she continues, "Well, Brandon, you've managed to make me feel like one.  Thanks for the memories." And then she walks away.  Hopefully off a pirate ship's plank into the waiting mouth of a great white shark because THE FUCK.  I don't have any more words, you guys.  None at all.

Brandon apparently does because he starts after her before being pulled back by the miraculous Voice Of Reason this episode, Steve, who says, "Let her go." I suppose it's worth noting that Brandon's hair looks like a real pile of shit here.  Anyway.

Later in the evening, Steve has joined The Parents' Walsh and Brandon for dinner.  He's regaling Jim and Cindy with the events of the afternoon: "Brandon Walsh sure knows how to dump a girl.  I've never seen anybody so smooth." I wouldn't exactly call him shouting down Emily "smooth." Necessary, yes, but not "smooth." Brandon explains to his parents, "It's not that I don't like her, it's just, the minute I tried to cool things off, she went ballistic." I wish this fool would just give everyone the 4-1-1 on the ol' Emily-slipping-U4EA-in-his-Sprite trick.  He would be done with having to explain all of this trash and we could all move on with our lives (or lack thereof, in my case), for fuck's sake.

But then Cindy won't stop saying things that cause me to rage-type: "Well, I feel bad for her.  I mean, at that age, overwhelmed by emotions, you don't always act rationally.  I'm sure she's ashamed of herself and I just hope whatever you said you didn't say it in front of anybody." Cindy, I really like you but you must stop.

And HERE WE GO AGAIN the phone rings, Jim picks it up, gets hung up on, saying, "Well, whatever you said didn't cure her phone habit," the scary music starts up...

...we get this shot of someone IT'S EMILY putting coins into the slot of a payphone and dialing...

...and then this ZOOM IN on the Telephone Of Walsh ringing.

Jim gets all Charles Bronson some more, throwing his napkin down on the table and threatening, "That's it, I'm calling the phone company." Calm down there, Jimbo!  You don't want to do anything you're going to regret in the morning.

The phone the continues to ring and Steve says, "Let me handle this."

He struts over to the phone, does this, picks up and in a god-awful "New York" accent (although it's light years better than LaVoyne's), says, "How youse doin'? This is Sal's Pizzeria.  We got 'em large, small, plain, and your choice of fourteen delicious toppings just-a for you." I don't know why - maybe it's because he's been so non-irksome to me this episode, but that was actually kind of funny.  I mean, I'm not in the bathroom with explosive diarrhea after watching it, which is progress, I think.  Anyhow, obviously he gets hung up on and says, "Well, that got her." Cindy begs to differ and actually manages to make a helpful suggestion: "Making fun of Emily is not the way to deal with this - we should just call her parents."

The doorbell rings, Jim goes to get it and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea comes hustling in, Steve asking, "Shouldn't you be putting the paper to sleep?" She good-naturedly tells him, "It's 'to bed', Steve.  To bed." Which was another kind of cute moment between these two.  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's seriously only tolerable when she's interacting with Steve.  So then she fills in Brandon on the fact that the letters the Blaze has been receiving were typed up on Emily's typewriter! WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAT? I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING! Except that you and I and my cats and all the zygotes saw that coming.

Cindy comes up on Brandon holding the most recent letter, saying, " Let me look at that." And then she reads it out loud and AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea's right: for a serial killer, Emily's writing is just superb: "'West Beverly, heed my cry.  Abusers of love deserve to die.  Smug and secure in their well-mannered house, they won't have long, I'm as quiet as a mouse.'" Well, she got the "smug" part right, anyway.

Jim's all, "Bitch's got mad poetry skillz," and AHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea says, "Don't you see, she wanted me to discover these," Or maybe she's just stupid.  Whatever, AHHHHHHHHHHNdrea calls the letters "a cry for help," but Brandon calls a spade a spade: "Cry for help...and a pretty obvious threat."

Goddamn it.  The fucking PHONE rings again, but this time, Jim decides to lay down the law.  He picks up the call but then hangs it up from the base and sets the receiver down on the ledge, standing there all Dirty Harry with his hands on the waist-band of his pleated jeans.  OH SNAP.  Also: that dial tone sound will get real old, real fast.  Not to mention the psychotic beeping that will follow it.

Back to the payphone and the "unknown" person hanging up and dialing again and...

ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHMG IT'S EMILY WHUUUUUUUUUUUUH??? I must say, however, that for someone clearly having some kind of mental breakdown, girlfriend's lipstick game is on point.

Next up, we get this overhead view of some venue where a lady is tuning up her violin on a little stage in the center of the room as people file in and sit down on folding chairs.

Over to Brenda and Dylan walking in, looking all sorts of fly and proving for the 757th time that they belong together and the whole Kelly fiasco that happens in the third season should've just turned out to be a terrible, god forsaken nightmare.  Also: Kelly can fuck off.

Anyway, the two of them find their seats and Brenda says, "I hope tonight's concert is a little livelier than last week's." Dylan assures her that it will be and she asks, "Oh, yeah? Since when did you become such an expert?" He gets all up in her grill and tells her, "Hey, I'm just into passion, wherever I can find it." Like with blonde hussies when your girlfriend's out of town? He goes in for her neck with this mouth but she reminds him, "Behave yourself." And then he kisses/nibbles her shoulder and HAVE SEX HAVE SEX RIGHT NOW.

The violinist starts to do her thing...

...and these Hot Sluts are super-into it.

Unfortunately we have to switch back over to this mess.  In the Living Room Of Walsh, Brandon and Steve sit on the couch and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea paces as they discuss everyone's favorite topic of conversation, Emily.  Brandon: "I don't get it.  One minute, she's this nice, sweet girl.  And the next minute she's writing these weird letters." AHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea: "I think Emily has what is called a borderline-type personality." Steve, doing wonders for the field of psychiatry: "AHHHHHHHNdrea, she's nuts." AHHHHHHHNdrea explains that there's an underlying cause behind her nuttiness, and rather astutely, for a 41-year-old-masquerading-as-a-16-year-old, points out that it's most likely because Emily's "moved from high school to high school; she probably has some deep-rooted dependency needs...she's looking for something more stable, something permanent to latch onto."

Brandon, along with everyone else who's ever had the displeasure of dealing with him, is taken aback and incredulously asks, "Me?" Steve, completely on a roll this episode and perhaps climbing the ranks to become my third least favorite character (behind David and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHNdrea), deadpans, "Well, it's like I said: she's nuts." Also, Steve's face here? Me.  This is me.  Right now.  And always.

Jim and Cindy enter, Cindy carrying an open White Pages and informing the others, "Well, her parents aren't listed." Jim decides that he's going over to the Valentine house to have a Your Daughter's Fucking Bonkers sesh with Emily's parents the next day.  Brandon starts to protest but Jim gets his Charles Bronson on again and says, "It's gone far enough."

I've said this infinity times this episode alone but here's one more for you: AAAAAAND HERE WE GO.  We get a shot of the Homecoming parade float in the Driveway Of Walsh as Emily walks up, lugging an obviously-full can of gasoline.

Shot of the violinist.

And then this: Dylan reaches over for Brenda's hand as they watch and brings it to his lips, then touches his cheek with it; he looks at Brenda, looking for a green light to suck her face off, but then he realizes she's totes into the music and then he sort of smirks and only Dylan could pull off a move like this without completely sickening me, like if Brandon did this to some girl I'd be vomiting diarrhea for 3 weeks straight and also removing my will to live with seven fondue forks.

So then we go between Emily destroying the float and the violinist playing 57 more times and until I start to seize.  But I actually think they did a really great job with the cutting-back-and forth of these two scenes, especially with the added bonus of the violin music.  It creates this sort of frenetic tension which plays well with Emily's snowballing mental collapse.

Ahh, and here we have the pièce de-résistance: Emily lugs the gas can onto the float, removes its cap and starts to make it rain petrol.

There's another manic back-and-forth here between her and the concert.  Again, nice touch.

So the violinist finishes up and the crowd applauds, and Brenda and Dylan continue to look like Hot Sluts Who Are Also Excited Dorks Right Here.

And then they look at each other and smile and give me The Feelings because I so love them together and their happiness is my happiness because, much like Emily, I too am a piece of shit loser with no friends to speak of and a concerning obsession with strange things (me, with Dylan & Brenda 4EVER; her, with Brandon).

Finished with dousing the float. Emily she sits down on the side of it, reaches into her pocket and pulls out a Bic lighter.  Some Serious Synth Drums kick in here, to let us know that This Is Serious, in case we missed that.

A far-offish shot of Emily, contemplating life, unrequited love and pyromania.

Shot of the Speedster driving down a street somewhere, because that concert was apparently one-song long.

Shot of Dylan pulling the Porsche into the Driveway Of Walsh only to find...

...THIS.

Brenda's all, "Dylan, look!" and walks towards Emily and her soon-to-be bonfire/first-degree felony.  Brenda asks, "Emily, what are you doing?" but Dylan holds her back with, "Wait, it's covered in gasoline." And then we get a shot of the discarded gas can just in case we forgot about that part or didn't believe him.

Brenda prods Emily with, "Come on, let's talk about this." Dylan, that fucking pussy, says, "Hey, this is dangerous." Emily, however, is in no mood to have a chat: "What is there to talk about? I know you hate me, Brenda.  You've hated me since the first day I started school here." Brenda, lying, mostly because she doesn't wanted to be set on fire, which is totally understandable given the circumstances: "I don't hate you." Emily tells her not to lie, "Not now." And I guess she does have the upper-hand here, what, with the the flammable liquid and the lighter and the flourishing mental disorder and all.

Dylan (that goddamn pansy, trying to flee the potential arsonist, like, grow a pair, Dyl-weed) pulls Brenda back as she draws closer: "Wait a minute.  She is whacked." Brenda, I guess probably having learned a thing or two from her episode-long stint as a peer counselor with The Rap Line, says, "She's talking to me.  I have to listen." I guess? I would be on the other side of town, on a payphone, calling the cops at this point, so, props to you, Bren.

Emily says, "You've never forgiven me for going out with him [meaning Dylan].  And you resent the fact that Brandon liked me." And *maybe* she's kind of perturbed by the fact that you drugged her brother?  Or whatever.  Brenda tells her that it's not true, but Emily continues: "Don't lie to me! Do you think I'm fooling around here? Do you think I'm interested in your two-faced talk? You turned everyone against me after I worked so hard to become part of your precious little group.  I don't wanna be a part of anything anymore." What about a prison-yard gang? That's a possibility, I suppose.  Brenda fibs again and says that Emily is a part of the group but Emily, again glossing over the fact that she drugged Brandon, asks, "Are you kidding? After the way Brandon dumped me, humiliated me in front of everyone?" I FUCKING CAN'T.

Here's a palette cleanser: Dylan looking hot and concerned.

But now back to shithead Emily: "Why doesn't your brother like me, Brenda? What did I do?" I'd like to quote Dylan here real quick with, "Bitch is whacked." Brenda goes into explaining that Brandon's a trusting person and that Emily betrayed that trust and that it's going to take time to earn that trust back.  Emily says, "He won't ever forgive me." And I say, "AS WELL HE SHOULDN'T," but no one ever fucking listens to me, so whatever.

Rather than punching Emily in the throat here, Brenda tells her, "I know my brother.  Believe me, he has his faults, like every single thing about him.  But probably one of the greatest things about him is nothing, nothing at all his amazing ability to forgive.  And if you want him to forgive you, Emily, you have to give him his space and not burn down his family's house.  And I swear to you, he will." So whatever, what Brenda said manages to penetrate the psychosis and peroxide and L.A. Looks hair gel that encompasses Emily's head and she apologizes and then Dylan walks up and grabs the lighter out of her hand.

Into the K.O.W...

...these guys, who look like 1st-thru-5th place contestants of a Worst Dressed contest, enter from the living room...

...and then this magic happens.  Dylan's facial expression here is pretty much the one I've been making since the start of this episode.

Brandon approaches and asks, "What's goin' on?" And so she lays it on the line: "I'm sorry, Brandon.  I'm sorry for everything.  I'm sorry for the phone calls, for makin' up that story about my tires being slashed so I could spend the night with you, for those disgusting letters I didn't mean, but most of all, I'm sorry for slipping you the U4EA." JESUS FUCK.  FINALLY.

Jim and Cindy are shocked at this revelation, I tell you! Shocked!

Emily continues: "I don't expect you to ever wanna forgive me or even talk to me again.  I guess when I lost you, I went crazy.  I thought I hated you.  I thought I hated all of you.  But the person I hate most of all, right now, is myself." Brandon tells her that she needs to get help and Cindy asks, "Has anything like this ever happened before?" Emily says, "A year ago, we moved, and I locked myself in my room for three days and played loud music and screamed.  But moving to Beverly Hills was a whole new kind of pressure.  This place it tough." I mean, I know I totally almost set fire to a bunch of Homecoming parade floats when we moved to L.A. a few years back.  There's always a transition period.

Anyway, she looks down at her paint-spattered clothes and sort of grins and shrugs and says, "I really need some help," and then Brandon looks at her almost lovingly, which made me like him for a nanosecond and I really don't like that feeling at all.

We then fade to an exterior shot of the House Of Walsh.  Lesson Learned Piano Music plays.

Up to Brenda's room where she's sleeping but of course this asshole doesn't give a crap about that and barges in and talks about he and Jim and Cindy dropping Emily off at her house and talking to her parents, who apparently have no problem airing their familial dirty laundry because they let the Walshes know that Emily's been seeing a psychiatrist on and off for years.  And it's doing her wonders! Brenda asks Brandon what he thinks is wrong with Emily and rather than admitting the truth, which is probably, "Rampant drug abuse since she was 12," he says, "I don't know.  It's like she's incredibly lonely.  And at the same time, she can't deal with the idea of being close to anyone."

Brandon says that Emily told him what happened outside earlier and asks, "What'd you say to get her to come down off the float?" Brenda molds the truth to her benefit and says, "I told her that she would always have two friends in Beverly Hills." If I had only two friends in Beverly Hills, and one of them was Brandon, you'd find me swinging from a basement pipe from the neck.  Blah, blah, it's Piano Time again and then of course no episode would be complete without Brandon putting the moves on his sister, so he goes in for a smooch and says, "Good night, Bren." She tells him goodnight and then to get the fuck out of her room and she cuddles a stuffed panda and THE END.  And I would say We Will Never See Her Again in regards to Emily, but we totally will so whatevers.

Join me here next time for "Chuckie's Back" which is about Steve and a bunch of boring shit, like adoption.  And we're officially ushered into the Age Of Donna & David, which is just an all around shame.  The next few episodes are some of my least favorite of the season, so we'll see how much effort I put into them, beyond, like, "Steve's hair is terrible," and "FUCK OFF BRANDON." Stay tuned, friends.