Time for our latest installment of An Adult Tertiary Character Oversteps A LOT of Societal Boundaries.
We're on a street...
...and then pan over to an office-type building...
...then head inside said building to a sign that reads "Albert B. Cooke SAT REVIEW COURSE SUITE 526." As you may recall, it was called "Alfred B. Cook" in the Season 1 episode "It's Only a Test," but who the fuck cares about continuity, I guess. Maybe Albert is Alfred's brother who added an "e" to the surname to stand out in the world of standardized test preparation.
As we hear a monotone man begin to speak - "And you will look forward to the morning when you will awaken from a good night's sleep. Bring your ID and your #2 pencils, and arrive at your SAT testing site approximately 20 minutes before the test begins" - we go into a classroom, wherein sits Kelly, zoning out...
...Brenda, looking attentive and gorgeous...
...David, with the jump scare in follicle form, Steve's hair, behind him...
...and as David leans over, there's Donna. David whines re the arrive at your SAT testing site approximately 20 minutes before the test begins, "Why? So we can worry for an extra 20 minutes?" but Donna informs her incredibly stupid boyfriend, "No, so you don't have to worry about being late on top of everything else."
Steve, who only ever seems to butt himself into conversations, I assume because no one in their right mind wants to organically start one up with him, tilts forward and dispenses with the insults, as is his wont: "Relax, Eraserhead, you're a junior. Come on, it's a piece of cake." I don't know if the "Eraserhead" is a slight about the shape of David's coiffure, but if so: THAT IS RICH.
The odd proctor/instructor man then provides them with his cultist mantra for the day of their testing: "Simply breath and bring yourself back to the sound of my voice saying, SDSM. Scan, discard, select, move on. Scan, discard, select, move on." This guy and his spooky, monotonous voice absolutely went on to form a Heaven's Gate-esque super-sect after this.
Lobby. These hot broads. Each dress is a dreamboat, then and now.
As they enter the area, this woman (whose name we soon learn is Beth) pops up from a chair with her Early '90s' Business Bitch dress suit and cute hair, cheerfully asking, "Excuse me, we're from KTMB TV. Would any of you be willing to talk to us about the pressure you're feeling getting ready for college entrance exams?" We see the goatee with a cameraman attached stand up behind her.
The gals, looking like they would've been my favorite '90s' girls' group, exchange looks and sheepish smiles.
A while later, Steve enters the lobby, standing next to Kelly and asking, "What's goin' on?" She tells him, "Oh, just the local news"...
...and over to Brenda, standing front-of-camera, being interviewed by Beth.
BUT. Steve spots ~sOmEtHiNg~ is amiss...
...which is an equipment bag with a logo on it that reads BACK STORY...
...and that's enough to set. Steve. OFF: "The hell it is!"
Angry Synth Drummage start up as he charges toward the filming, aggressively yanking the mic from Beth's hand, which is just a fantastic way to approach a woman, let me tell you. Beth demands, "Can I have my mic back, please?"
And Brenda is scandalized: "Steve! What are you doing?"
Steve and The Very Hungry Caterpillar sitting atop his head have some seething to do: "Don't you know who these people are, Brenda? Did you ever hear of a sleazy tv show called Back Story? It's a junkathon news magazine that goes out of its way to ruin people's lives on national tv." Beth insists that's not the case, but ol' Mommy Issues over here sees it differently: "What about the story you ran on Samantha Sanders? That was a hatchet job if ever I've seen a hatchet job." Why were we robbed of seeing at least a CLIP of The BACK STORY of Samantha Sanders? I bet it mostly involved her voicing sheer terror over the advancing crimescape mullet growing out of her recently adopted infant son's head.
Kelly rushes up to whisk Steve away with, "Let's just get outta here."
David and Donna follow suit, him saying, "Come on, man, don't waste your breath," and Donna adding a sassy, "Really," capped with a filthy look thrown in Beth's direction.
Speaking of, she requests her mic back once more and Steve complies, but with a lovely side salad of a potential threat of violence: "Next time I'll break it. And your camera, too."
After the towheads + DJ Dave exit, Brenda explains to Beth, "Samantha Sanders is his mom. He's very protective of her." Beth understands, then wishes Brenda good luck on her SATs. Don't worry: Beth will be back in a few minutes to be yet another fully grown-ass adult who inappropriately interacts with a minor on this show. What fun.
West Bev exterior.
A bunch of B-roll shots...
...including the area that always reminds me of 1980s' Tomorrowland.
Inside, Steve's at his locker when Brandon approaches, smarming, "Hey, buddy, I heard you whaled on some unsuspecting newswoman last night." LOL brutality against women is a GAS. And then he makes it worse: "Brenda said you were just releasing some pent up sexual tension." Repulsive.
Steve awkwardly laughs at Brandon's blatant incest fetish, given that he's always bringing up his sister when the topic of sex comes around, then looks past him and informs, "Oh, well, speaking of pent-up, there's some sweet young thing who has her eye on you." If Steve insists on speaking in this way, Steve shouldn't be allowed to speak at all.
He's talking about our girl Nikki, leaning up against a wall and giving a sweet little wave in Brandon's wholly undeserving direction.
Brandon, in turn, shoots back a sour little grimacey smile/nod combo, like, YOU SHOULD BE SO LUCKY, fool.
Back to Nikki and her World Wrestling Federation championship belt. She's clearly thrown for a loop by Brandon's bad manners, and, embarrassed, begins to fidget and then hurriedly writes in her notebook.
Brandon sneers, "Nikki Witt? She's a sophomore...let's not forget, this is the girl who was throwin' herself at young David Silver. Now maybe you're hard up..." Please. Don't make me think of Steve with a hard anything. And also, no one said Nikki had good taste in guys, present company absolutely included.
This girl appears at Steve's side and greets him; he says, "Hey, Suds, how you doin'?" and no, he didn't have a stroke; her name - or, I assume more likely, her nickname - is Suds. Which I quite like, for some reason. Though I'm fairly certain it's all horrible, WASPy rich people that have these silly-yet-vaguely-sinister nicknames, like Bunny or Miffy or Muffin. At least that's what television and moves have lead me to believe.
Anyway, Suds here shows her mental acuity real quick by kissing Steve's Paco Rabanne-steeped cheek and asking, "So we're still on for tonight, right?" He confirms their rendezvous at the Peach Pit and she walks on, hopefully into the welcoming arms of a multidisciplinary group of professionals at the nearest psych facility, following her lips coming anywhere near Steve's anything.
Brandon must be practicing for his forthcoming stand-up set at The Comedy Store because he alludes to Suds being attracted to Steve by brushing Steve's shoulder and admiring, "No flies on you." Steve miraculously comes clean that no girl, anywhere, ever would be attracted to the Bichon Frisé pelt stapled to his skull, advising (in a really gross way, of course), "No Suds on me, either. She's BJ Harrison's girlfriend. He'll be sitting between us."
The boys start walking and Brandon complains about creepy college-aged predator-bros like BJ "raiding" their high school for girlfriends. Steve says something about girls aging faster than guys and Brandon, Lord of Walsh Manor who can do no wrong, lobs an in absentia potshot at Brenda: "Not in my house, they don't."
Speaking of, Brenda and Kelly come around the corner and Brenda is jonesing: "Oh, I really need a cigarette." Kelly, a terrible person, scolds her so-called friend, but Brenda insists, "I'm a little stressed out with these SATs and everything else going on."
They wind up at Brenda's locker and Kelly continues to snip and snipe - "You want to add radiation treatments to your busy schedule?" "Smoking actually increases your stress level" "If your parents knew, they would flip out" - and while all of this is true, there's clearly something psychological going on here that I'm not smart-'n-stuff about to identify, but maybe stop being a snooty twat to the girl onto whom you've imprinted a gaping chasm of emotional distress and forever-distrust in other people. But since Brenda's still in the dark about all of that, no big, I suppose.
Brenda mentions that Dylan will flip out, too, if he finds out, but that he loves the smell of perfume. That's a heady and pungent bouquet right there: stale cigarette smoke barely masked by some Bath & Body Works Sun-Ripened Raspberry Body Splash. Hork.
And here's the eau de toilette lover now, ambling down the hall...
...and back to Brenda spritzing Binaca in her mouth, asking Kelly not to say anything to Dylan. Kelly rudely responds with, "Whatever," then walks away as Brenda sarcastically adds, "And don't say goodbye, either."
Dylan arrives; macking is involved.
Kelly - who sucks and I hate her, but she is wearing the ever-loving shit out of that hairstyle and incredible dress - turns back to look at the lovebirds as Sad Piano clink-clinks in the background, then shuffles on her way.
Around yet another corner appear Donna and Nikki, who asks, "Why is everyone so rattled around here?" and then witchily observes, "It's not even a full moon." Donna let's her know that the SATs are around the corner.
She enters a classroom; Nikki remains at the door and concludes, "Oh, that's what's going on with Brandon." Donna informs her that Brandon and Andrea are the only ones not taking the test and Nikki questions, "What's his story? I mean, he's so serious all the time."
Donna insists, "That's just at school. At the Peach Pit, he is a completely different person." Yes, he's an absolute caution while he stands around in uniform, polishing spatulas and not working.
Nikki thanks Donna for the tip and she's off to formulate a plan to get into the good graces of a guy far, far beneath her station.
School's out.
In a highly concerning turn of events: Back Story Beth has breached school property and is hanging out up against a tree, smoking.
Brenda walks across the parking lot...
...and then behind her appears the grown woman in Shaq's favorite blazer who's technically stalking a teenager, to wit: "I was hoping I'd find you. You got a minute?" Brenda, having never learned about Stranger Danger, agrees, and Beth begins to earn her trust like any good groomer by ensuring her, "I had nothing to do with the smear on your friend's mom."
Brenda wonders why she came all the way to the school to say that and then Beth's all, "Can we go somewhere and talk?" and No, Brenda! Never go to a second location!
But she does. They wind up at Not the Peach Pit drinking coffee, and as Beth continues to chain-smoke, she tells her tale of not-really-sorrow: "Believe me, working for Back Story was not where I thought I'd end up after journalism school. But jobs are hard to come by. I still think I can do the kinda quality work that bucks convention and breaks down the stereotypes. But I need your help."
Brenda is rightfully doubtful: "I don't know." Beth says that, "It's a natural. Come on. Stay tuned to the back story on the kids that go to high school in the most glamorous city in America," and after Brenda asks how that's going to be some cliché-busting exposé, she continues, "Because I'm not gonna do a generic profile of the blond bimbette on Rodeo Drive with her daddy's gold card. What interests me is that you and your friends are just a bunch of ordinary kids living in an extraordinary community."
Brenda can no longer resist so she bums a smoke and explains that she picked up the habit in Paris over the summer and then Beth continues to lull Brenda into a state of complacency: "Your friends remind me of the crowd I used to hang out with in high school" - a conclusion to which she came after engaging with them - one, quite tempestuously! - for all of five minutes - "We're still really close. So...what do ya say?" Something tells me Beth has no friends, given that she's taken to tracking down the underage and guilting them into appearing on her tacky, low-budge A Current Affair knock off.
But Brenda is convinced, only inquiring, "Well...do I get to be on camera?" And then Beth giggles because Brenda's a goddamn easy target.
Peach Pit.
Brandon. Miraculously doing his job.
He winds up at a table where Suds and the 37-year-old BJ sit. He advises the latter, "Steve called, he's runnin' a little late, as usual." BJ says, "No sweat," because that's how his generation, the Boomers, used to talk in the '60s.
Brandon sets down a plate at another table and spins around to face Brenda entering, asking him to talk.
Brandon exaggeratingly sniffs the air like a real drama club dweeb and queries, "How much perfume are you wearin'?" She reiterates that she needs to talk, but...
...enter Nat! He hath risen! Behind Brandon to bark at him about an order being up. Brenda tells him to get his ass to work for a change and that they'll chat when he's off.
Steve arrives; Brandon calls him, "Stevie" and points him in the direction of Mid-Life BJ and Suds.
It's goddamn Grand Central up in this joint as Nikki then makes her appearance, spots Brandon, then sidles up at the counter. Brandon, I guess trying to make up for all the times he's dicked around on the job, i.e. every single time, doesn't even look up at Nikki as he hands her a menu and continues to fiddle around with busy work.
She eventually grabs his attention by exclaiming, "Brandon! Hi! Wow, I didn't know you worked here. What a..."
And then that Cockblocking Nat chimes in again with, "Brandon!" and Brandon smiles like a doof and tells her, "'Scuse me"...
...and Nikki completes her sorry little sentence with, "...surprise," and she rolls her eyes and I hope that's directed toward Brandon and not herself because, again, I repeat: you're better than this, lady.
Over to the Early Bird Special, where two middle-aged men catch up over some decaf and Ritz crackers. Steve, always looking for an unearned leg-up, asks, "Hey, Beej, you got any old term papers lying around collecting dust?" Beej, 40, says that he just might.
Steve, a week into his senior year, then whines about thinking 12th grade would be a breeze, but that, "They're just piling on the work," which I'm going to assume is just the standard assigned homework and Steve is a next-level moron who wants everything handed to him on a silver platter that doubles as a mirror that he can cry into over the state of his hair.
Oh, brother. I had buried this Legacy Key story line in the deep, cobwebbed recesses of my mind, mostly because 1) it's boring, and 2) I don't care. But now I guess I have to care: BJ thinks he can help Steve out, and pulls a key from his shirt pocket and sets it on the table: "It's kinda why I'm here. I'm about to make your life."
BJ laughs ominously like a cartoon villain, then gets real serious; far too serious for what the situation calls for: "No, this is the master key to West Beverly High. It unlocks every office, every filing cabinet, every grade bank. Think of the possibilities, Steve-O." This is so, so dumb.
Steve, bless him, is also skeptical: "Yeah, right." BJ tells him that's it not a trick; it's a "legacy" that gets passed down year after year to a lucky student to carry on the tradition.
Steve continues to be suspicious, as he should be because this is fucking ASININE and then I guess the coke sweats kick in because BJ angrily grabs the key back and gets all kinds of wild-eyed and menacing: "If you don't want it, I'll find someone else who does," and after Steve says he does want it, he's just afraid, BJ smirks, "You got 'til the weekend [to decide]," like, okay Christopher Moltisanti. Get a grip.
Suds rejoins him as he stands from the booth and decides he hasn't behaved like enough of an abject clown throughout this whole exchange and he bends over the table and leans toward Steve and oozes, "For once in your life, Sanders, try not to be a jerk."
Steve looks frightened rather than busting out into gales of laughter directly in this embarrassment's face.
Lights out.
Into the back changing? locker? room? Brandon stands, rolling up his sleeves. I guess Brenda just sat there and watched her brother change. Which tracks.
Anyway, Brandon's bitching about Nikki being indecisive about what flavor of ice cream to order and Brenda's like, hey ya stupid bitch, why don't you just ask Nikki out, it's obvious you like her. Brandon says that Nikki makes him nervous and that he wishes she were older, and Brenda says that, "Appearances can be deceiving," whatever that means. Move it along.
To the streets, and the Mustang cruising.
She goes onto say, "At the very least, I have the opportunity to make a positive statement about what it's really like to grow up in Beverly Hills." He reiterates, "Still, check with Mrs. Teasley before you get into it."
Here. The twins enter and then Brandon pulls snaps off of Jim's suit jacket lapels and rather than punching his son in the face, he bitches about Cindy not being able to find the address to the restaurant to which they're going, and I must once again remind a man on this show that you're nothing, and that everyday one of the women give you even a quarter-ounce of their attention should be the best day of your goddamn life.
Cindy rushes in wearing a set of café curtains. The Parents' Walsh are off! Hugs, kisses...
Jim, Cindy...
...and Brandon stare down at the pack in disgust, acting as if Brenda's heroin needle just hit the ground, shortly followed by her handgun with the serial number scratched off and personalized set of brass knuckles.
Brenda, meanwhile, looks alarmed.
Into the kitchen. Why is Brandon there? Jim paces, up in arms, Summer Episodes Stylez: "This is the thanks we get for sending you to Paris?!" Brenda tells him that everyone smokes in Paris, and he brings out the butch and advises, "Well, no one smokes in this house." Settle down, Death Wish 4: The Crackdown. Cindy, aghast!: "I don't know anyone who smokes anymore!" Thanks for coming out, Cin.
Brandon: "It really is a disgusting habit, Bren." I must reiterate: WHY IS HE THERE???
Brenda lies and says she hardly smokes, she barely inhales, it's not big deal, and that, "If I can survive the smog in the air, the pesticides in my food, and the crime in the streets, then I am bound to beat the odds on a coupla lousy cigarettes."
And then: "Okay, okay, okay, listen...so she lost her perspective over there with the Frenchies this summer, that's fine. But now that she's back..."
AND THEN. As I said on Instagram, THIS should've been what the show was called.
Jim asks if any of her friends smoke, she insists that they don't and that, "I can quit anytime." Jim's all, "Well, in that case, now is just as good a time as any, right?" And she's all, "No problem," and y'all? I THINK IT'S A PROBLEM.
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