If I don't keep writing this nonsense, I might just cry...more so. So Tag Team, we're back again. We're going to check it AND wreck it and then we're going to lie down with a couple of cats because we're tired and sad and existing right now is a CHORE.
Some Synth Drummage that then segues into a Doogie Howser, M.D. theme song homage plays us to the Beach Club, where yet another banner is being strung up, this time advertising "BHBC CASTLES IN THE SAND." Andrea must've experienced her first series of multiple orgasms upon seeing this.
The camera pans over a bunch of extras earning their day rate by pretending to know how to construct professional-grade sand castles...
...and we wind up here: Brandon in his work uniform - once more: decidedly not working, just getting paid to fuck off, I guess - and holding a shovel; and Brooke donning something similar to the slovenly, perspiration-soaked volleyball top she wore in "Sex, Lies and Volleyball / Photo Fini" and dumping out of bucket water. Brandon insists that they're out of their league in this, sighhhhhhhhhhh, sand castle competition, but Brooke reminds him, "That's why [the pros] are in their own division."
He admits that he's never built one before - not even on the shores of Lake Minnetonka?!?? I won't believe it - and she calls him a "virgin." I barf in my own mouth as she continues: "Seriously, if we can't beat sister Brenda, and Andrea [she pronounces it "Anne-drea" - them's fightin' words!] and the kiddies, and whoever else, we're pretty sorry stuff." Brandon comes around but reminds her that he can only help for a little bit: "I've got work to do." The self-roasting is incredible. Fucking Rickles over here.
Brooke proceeds to feign disappointment in her Theatre Kid Camp way, coquettishly teasing, "Okay, if you're busy...I'm sure Steve wouldn't mind getting into the wet sand with me." Firstly: sickening. Secondly: Brooke is deranged.
Which is all the more evident as she gives this him sly, sultry look, the effect of which is lost entirely due to that hairdo of hers.
He beckons her toward him with the wriggle of his index finger and demands, "Gimme those lips, honey"...
...then concerningly clasps the back of her neck and head with the Patented Brandon Death Grip© and they start aggressively macking...
...and then he LITERLLY LIES HER DOWN IN THE SAND WHAT IS HAPPENING and let's take a look-see in the background, where Brenda and Donna sit on a mound of sand, watching all of this grotesquerie play out with what I can only assume is extreme gastrointestinal distress...
...and then we're up close with gals, Donna saying, "Wow, she is into your brother something fierce," and Brenda teasing back sarcastically, "Yeah, so you noticed." They do this adorable torso-check with each other and I love their friendship. And the outfits and accessories here: everything they're wearing and how they're so simplistically and chicly styled is burned on my brain forever and ever.
Immediate coma: Andrea helps a kid pack some sand and Cameron comes up to get her attention and she's kind of big bitch about it and shoos him away. I hope what we didn't see is Cam giving her a silent one of these as she turned her back on him.
Back to this: Donna uses a spade thing on their sculpture, then frets about the sand doing a number on her nails.
Blech. This one arrives carrying a book and obnoxiously announcing, "Okay! Make room for the expert! Now ladies, don't ya think if you're going to be sculpting France, you oughta have a map?" Nice fucking pants, Screech.
Brenda is surprised that he's opted to help them - that's called guilt, Brenda - and then he pulls her into him by the waist and they start making out in earnest...
...directly in front of their friend, who has the only appropriate reaction with, "Oh, great! We're gonna get a lotta work done here." She then wonders aloud, "Where are David and Kelly when you really need them?"
The answer to that is of course: the Office Building of Taylor.
Inside Kelly's room, Jackie, wearing a fierce pair of black-and-white cheetah print leggings, begs her her daughter to join her at the Beach Club and reminds her that she's been cooped up inside without any access to her cocaine contacts all summer! Oh, and also: "It's Erin's coming out party!" Kelly refuses and flops on her bed as David enters, announcing as if anyone cares about Mel the Smell in the slightest, "Dad wanted me to tell you the car's all packed up, and he's ready to go." Jackie then bone-chillingly summons the underworld and its most predatory, floppy-haired inhabitant: "What is it, honey? Is it Jake? Are you still upset about him?"
And even though Kelly was hung up on that motorcycle-riding deviant a mere month ago - and I think it's a pretty reasonable question from Jackie who isn't at all in-the-know on account of Baby Burden and being...well, burdened by her newborn demands all summer - she assures that it's not that: "Mother, please."
Jackie, finally fed up with Kelly's pouty obstinance, says that it's her loss and huffs out of the room with a, "Tell your Dad I'll be just a minute," at David.
After her exit, these two have a heart to heart; he tells her to get over herself and that she'll have to see Brenda eventually and that big deal! she and Dylan just kissed once in the cabana (oh, David, you sweet, summer child) and if she keeps moping around people will get suspicious. I think people will get suspicious because she and Dylan are acting suspicious, all darty-eyed and husky-voiced and awkward body-languaged, but whatever, sure. In the end, she grabs her gargantuan beach bag and follows him out the door.
Beach. Dylan does some sand-scooping with a spatula thing.
Donna and Brenda stand on the sidelines with the book, arguing about the location of Vaucresson in Paris. Donna points at a page in the book and declares, "You're wrong! Look at the map!" Brenda then invokes her favorite walking sleep aid: "Then Rick's wrong because that's what he told me it was!"
Dylan's ears perk up at this, asking, "Who's Rick?" I tell him, "A big, dull dud," but no one ever listens to me so moving on.
Some Tense Keytar Synth begins as Brenda shoots a glance at Donna before fibbing, "Uhh, Rick was our tour guide in France." Dylan, Citizen of the WORLD, dontcha know, compliments Rick: "Musta been pretty good...he knew where Vaucresson was." Okay, A Moveable Feast. We get it - you're well-traveled, well-laid and the most tortured of old souls.
Anyway, the girls give each other yet another Look and go back to perusing the book...
...when suddenly Andrea walks by and I lapse into unconsciousness yet again.
More of the same as her previous scene: she's going to get water for the kids' sculpture but Cameron, desperate for her attention, has followed her and is working her - a children's camp counselor who has to deal with annoying kids all the time, like, that's basically the whole job description - last nerve: "The best way for you to help me is to stay here while I go and I fill up the bucket, okay?"
The poor kid nods dejectedly and turns back. Cameron: you're better than this. You don't need The Zuck's crumbs.
These two. Brandon's gotta jet to help Henry and Brooke, the lead in a really terrible school play that's about to take a really racist turn, projects her dismay to the last goddamn row of the auditorium: "How can you leave now?! We'll never finish on time!!!!" then insists, "Henry can prep the clambake by himself." Brandon informs her that he really can't: "It's just a ton of work."
And HERE WE GO, she gives him a knowing look and says, "Let Henry earn his money for a change." Brandon asks what THE FUCK that means and she lays out her bigoted cards: "Henry can't be fired. He's Black." JESUS. Fucking criminy.
And now, and this will be one of the very few times I ever say this, I LOVE BRANDON because he goes INNNN on her: "Brooke, for your information, nobody around here works as hard as Henry. And when he's not bustin' his ass here, he's rebuilding his store that got torched by the looters in the riots, so don't you ever tell me he slacks off, okay?" His neck veins are a-poppin' and he's pointing in her face and Calgon, take me away, this is my happy place.
He storms off and I beg of him to keep on stormin' but unfortunately, this fuck-ass, terrible person is able to stop him: "Okay! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to insult your boss. All I was trying to do was to get you to stay and play with me a little while longer. I didn't mean anything by it. Really." Unhinged.
And then, FUUUUUUUCK, Brandon relents, probably because of boobs and vagina, but says that he still has to go. She asks if he wants help shucking the corn (not a euphemism; it's for the clambake...which is also not a euphemism)...
...and then this boy and his Hitler Youth gal pal head off into the sunset. You're a real fucking disappointment, Brando.
The cutest: Brenda and Donna play a hand-clapping game as Dylan looks on before pointing toward...
...this motley crew approaching: Mel, wearing a creepy tank top (why is it creepy, you might be asking? Because Mel) and some sheen-y, wind-breaker-material cerulean joggers; Jackie in her heretofore mentioned animal-print bottoms from QVC; Baby Burden strapped to her mom's front in a not-at-all-structurally sound-looking sling; Kelly, and David.
Brenda heads straight for Erin, cooing about how exquisite she is and complimenting her beautiful skin...
...and then Dylan IS THE WORST ADULTERER IN ALL THE LAND because he spouts off, "You shoulda seen her a coupla weeks ago; she practically fit in the palm of my hand." Time for someone to go back to Covering Your Tracks: How Not to be Flagrant About Your Non-Monogamous Escapades with Your Girlfriend's Best Friend class.
Kelly, caught off guard and not much better at this whole "betrayal cover up" thing than Dyl-weed, shoots him an alarmed look.
Brenda reasonably inquires, "You two know each other?" Dylan, a complete buffoon, offers lamely, "Uhhhhhh, yeah. Me and Kelly babysat one night." Yeah. Unfortunately, the rest of us were there, too.
Jackie, jonesing to get back to the cabana to do a few pre-mollusc feast lines, begins to herd everyone in that direction. Mel advises, "Open house at the Taylor-Silver cabana," which doesn't sound like lovely day-at-the-beach activity; rather, it sounds like a threat and also an invitation to be privy to some really filthy shit.
Kelly turns to head back with the adults...
...but Brenda stops her, asking if she's going to help with the ever-loving sculpture...
...and Kelly poorly lies, "I think I better stick with my mom. But I'll see you guys later." You know it's a lie because no one wants to hang out with Mel.
David, Donna and Brenda start to turn back to their creation, but Captain MOTHER-FUCKING Obvious Dylan remains in his spot, staring wistfully after Kelly's retreating figure what in the ACTUAL, so Brenda comes back and grabs his arm, asking, "Monsieur McKay, aren't you coming?" and then they're off.
Magically, David's appears in the cabana area in the very next scene, hauling his keyboard somewhere, hopefully to the incinerator or perhaps toward the event horizon of the BHBC's very own black hole.
Of course Steve approaches, and of course David is snippy, and of course Steve lies and says that he's "sifting offers" for gigs for David as they speak, and of course David stomps away but not before leaving Steve with a non-sick non-burn: "Yeah, well, sift this."
Corn Cob Academy. Brandon has dropped off some shucked ears at the Snack Shack and comes back to Brooke, who tells him, "One bushel down, five to go." I feel like all of this prep work would've been done a few days before, no?
They both sit down and continue with their task and WOOOOO BOY Brooke's about to go full fucking white nationalist and I had totally blocked this piece of the whole storyline. I vividly recalled her classist remarks about Canner in the previous episode, as well as her repulsive beliefs about Henry and Andrea (something to not look forward to coming up) in this one, but her commentary on the LA riots here truly made my jaw drop as I was transcribing. So. HERE WE GO. Again.
She asks about Henry losing his store: "Didn't he put up a sign or something? Like the rest of them? Ya know, 'Black-owned business'?"
Brandon, who really should've spit in her mangy forelock and walked away immediately following whatever the hell just escaped her mouth, informs her, "Not all the looters were Black. Besides, what difference does it make?"
Brooke is unable to conceal her naked xenophobia any longer: "It makes a lotta difference. Blacks are against the Koreans, the Koreans are against the Blacks, and well, they're both against us." Holy. SHIT.
Brandon, NOT KICKING A PAYLOAD OF SAND IN HER FACE: "I don't believe that."
Brooke, a ghoul: "You can believe what you want, Brandon, but the next time there's a riot in this town, you better believe they're gonna come to places like this for payback time." While Brooke absolutely sounds like one of those propagandist, fear-mongering creatures that slithered out from beneath the thick film at the bottom of a septic tank and now works at Fox News, I actually believe that her future calling is to be a high-ranking cabinet member in the Trump regime.
For some reason, truly I DON'T UNDERSTAND, Brandon doesn't dump her right here and now and instead queries, "What're you gettin' so bent outta shape about?"
Brooke pivots entirely away from her vile convictions and rhetoric and brings up something else entirely: "Every time I open my mouth these days we end up getting into a fight and I'm sick of it!" What? "These days"? Do you mean...today? Because this is the first fight of theirs we've witnessed. But Brandon somehow agrees?! With her??? And then she, delusional in the extreme, asks, "Are you intimidated by me? Is that it?"
Brandon scoffs, "I'm a little more secure than that, Brooke, thanks." Him saying something like that, with that specific inflection in his voice, would normally lead me to aneurysm, but I'll allow it under these dire circumstances.
She then says something that is categorically false, as in, 100 percent a figment of her imagination: "I thought you were the perfect guy for me, but lately it's gotten to the point where you're embarrassed to kiss me in front of your friends." WHAT. Exhibits A through at least E proving this assertion is patently untrue:
...
...
...
THIS ONE LITERALLY JUST HAPPENED ABOVE.
Brandon agrees with her imaginary facts as presented, but again, I must ask: why is he even gracing her with a platform? Give her and her rancid ideology the boot and call it. Oh, it's because this is a tv show and this is what we call a story line? And also it's not real life (though eerily similar, yikes) and maybe I should just watch the goddamn episode and await the natural conclusion and shut the fuck up? Understood.
He decides to present her with his one redeeming quality: "You see, I'm a liberal kind of guy. And sometimes, the things that come outta your mouth, the racial slurs, et cetera, they really drive me up the wall."
Like most racists, Brooke doesn't like being called out for being a racist, so she flips all the way out: "What are you saying, Brandon? That I'm a bigot???" - yes, that's exactly what he and everyone else who's not a member of your Palos Verde Proud Boys chapter are saying - "Because I'm not! I'm a good person, Brandon, and I don't have to justify myself to you!!!!" Racist says what now?
For some continued, INSANE reason, he apologizes for upsetting her and attempts to calm her down, but all she can do is screech inanities like, "Excuse me! I'm gonna go finish building our sand castle and try to have some fun, unless that's not politically correct!" and re: him not having meant to hurt her feelings: "Yeah...well, it's a little late for that, don't you think?" Self-victimization, thy name is all MAGA everywhere and more specifically, Brooke...whatever her last name is. Probably Goebbels.
On the deck, Kelly carries two heaping plates of food. Besides everything I hate about her right now, she looks gorgeous: the hair, the bathing suit, all of it's working. Yet another core memory-of-an-outfit for me.
Nooooooooo. He hustles up behind her with a, "Wait up." He asks somberly if she's okay, and that he knows things are "a little weird." Spoken like a true, morally bankrupt lowlife.
Kelly assures him, "You don't have to keep going out of your way to break the ice with me. I'm fine. In fact, this is exactly what I predicted would happen, isn't it?"
I'm really uncertain as to what the hell he wants from her, or how he wants any of this to play out, given that he was just tongue-swabbing the roof of Brenda's mouth mere moments ago, but he snarks, "No, you didn't predict it, you made it happen." What do you want her to do??? Mount you?
She sneers, "I'm just looking out for all of us, okay? That's what friends are for, right?" then turns heel and, regrettably for her, heads back to Mel's House of Depravity, DDS.
Dylan can only stand there and stare after her once again looking disappointed about a situation he entirely brought upon himself. Fade to black.
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