PRETTY LITTLE PICTURE

Fade up on Mary Alice, peaceful in her coffin. As she steams toward the fires of the crematorium -- cheery on a cold night like this one! -- we hear her explain that, after she died, "every trace of [her] humanity was discarded." Yes, literally. Visual puns, check. Mary Alice, you so hokey. MAVO tells us that she held on to only one thing: her dignity. Oh, no, wait. Sorry, I meant her memory. We cut to KimberBree, alone in bed, fiddling her with her giant diamond ring. I would not be surprised to learn that she made it herself out of a lump of coal. MAVO remembers things about KimberBree: "The easy confidence of her smile, the gentle elegance of her hands." Amusingly, the gentle elegance of her hands are illustrated as she lights a dessert on fire under this VO. MAVO waxes poetic about "the warmth of [KimberBree's] voice," as KimberBree says goodbye to Guests From The Past, including Mary Alice, and turns to say, "Rex, wasn't that a lovely even--" Her voice trails off as he turns his back on her and just walks away. Yes, yes, marital issues at Casa Van de Kamp. But what MAVO remembered most about KimberBree was "the look of fear in her eyes." Apparently, according to MAVO, the "state of [KimberBree's] marriage was unacceptable." Really? I never would have guessed. Shut your trap, dead lady. As MAVO yammers on and on and on and on and on, KimberBree gets out of bed, goes downstairs, and wakes up Rex, who's sacked out on the sofa bed. He bitches for a bit, until she reminds him that he has to go upstairs and get into their bedroom or the kids will know they're not sharing a bed and that something is wrong. Rex "doesn't care anymore." Way to be invested in your family, dude. I know you're over the wife, but think about the kids. And I'm not necessarily advocating lying to them, but you could at least argue for being honest with them. I hate Rex. I wouldn't want to be married to KimberBree either -- except for how delightful the housekeeping and meals would be, and because I would get to try on all her cute little suits -- but he is so checked out. And I feel like, if you've agreed to the therapy thing, then you also actually need to try and work on the marriage even when you're not in therapy. Or, you can tell your spouse that you're not interested in therapy, you want a divorce, and then you can actually move out, call a divorce lawyer, and serve her with papers. KimberBree is crazy, but at least she sticks to her plan, dude. Whereas Rex is totally passive. He does nothing. Make a move, man, or shut up. Anyway, KimberBree doesn't want to burden the children. Won't someone think of them? "And while we're working things out, the least we can do is keep up appearances," she says, as she pulls the bed sheets off him. "You look so tired," she says. Rex rubs his face and complains that the sofa bed is really uncomfortable. KimberBree smiles that maybe he should move back into bed with her. "We're in marriage counseling. I think that would confuse things," he said. Because...? You'd be acting like...married people? Aren't you supposed to act...married? If you're trying to save your marriage? I mean, I really don't know. KimberBree sighs that she misses him. "I know you do. 'Course, if I don't start getting some sleep pretty soon, I'll be forced to move upstairs out of sheer exhaustion," Rex spits, and climbs the stairs. Well, that's kind of him. Why doesn't he just say, "I don't care how you feel and sleeping next to you makes me want to kill myself"? See? I think KimberBree is trying to show him that she cares about him, and he just doesn't give a shit anymore. And that's okay, I guess, but if that's the case, then be a man and break it off, Rex, you big baby. Don't just passive-aggressively make digs. You TOLD HER you were willing to try to make it work. Anyway, as Rex goes around the corner, KimberBree whips out some conveniently located pliers, pulls back the mattress on the sofa bed, and fiddles with several of the springs, so that they poke right into Rex's back. We can see that this is not the first time she's done this. See? KimberBree's crazy, but at least she takes action! As she smiles down at her handiwork, MAVO explains that KimberBree was not afraid of a challenge. Morning on Wisteria Lane. MAVO yammers about how it was a day like any other, "with a cup of coffee and the morning paper." She then narrates us through each of her friends' lives: Lynette reads the business section while the boys whack each other with light sabers; Gabrielle reads the style page and has her maid pour her another cup of Colombian roast; KimberBree reads the home section and fixes an unruly flower on her dining-room table; and, finally, Susan reads the front page and gets toast all over her face, which Julie sweetly wipes off. I love Julie. Susan glances at the date on the paper, furrows her brow, and gets up and looks at her calendar. There's a Post-It stuck to the day. It reads, "Mary Alice dinner." Post-It in hand, Susan scampers over to Lynette's. While she waits for Princess Stepford to come to the door, she has a flashback to Happier Times. You can tell it's a flashback, because her face goes all dreamy and, also, Mary Alice is in it, and she's alive. "I come bearing snacks!" Susan chirps, hoisting two bags of chips, as Mary Alice lets her inside Lynette's house. The rest of the girls are sitting down to a game of cards. (In an amusing detail, we learn that the cards are sticky because Preston used them to scoop jam.) Mary Alice announces that she's having a dinner party. "Paul never likes to have people over, but to heck with him, I'm doing it," she says. That's because Paul? Crazy. Everyone agrees on a month from that day, and Mary Alice twitters that she's been wanting to have everyone over for just ages! On the stoop, in the present day, Susan looks sad until Lynette opens the door. She raises the Post-It wanly. "I know, the dinner," Lynette sighs. Lynette, your choker has got to go. I hate it. I fixate on it. Please get rid of it. They're seed pearls, for Christ sake. Who wears seed pearls anymore? (Seed-pearl wearers in the reading audience, please don't email me.) Suddenly, the girls are all standing under a tree passing around the Post-It like a joint. Susan wonders how they all could have forgotten about the party. Lynette points out that usually, when the host dies, the party is off. "Lynette!" KimberBree gasps. "I'm not being flip, I'm just pointing out a reality," Lynette says. They chatter for a bit about how Poor Dead Mary Alice was so excited about her party and blah blah blah, you'd think if she was that excited about it, she would have waited until after the party to kill herself, but what do I know? Susan thinks they should go through with it anyway, as a way to honor Mary Alice. KimberBree offers to make "braised lamb shank," and everyone else offers to, you know, attend. "How many people will I be cooking for?" KimberBree asks. "Seven," says Gabrielle. "Three couples and Susan. Does that sound right?" Susan grouses that it sounds very wrong to her, and everyone makes sympathetic noises and KimberBree wonders if there's someone Susan might like to invite, and right on cue, Mysterious Mike jogs by, all sweaty and panting. Susan waves a girlish hand at him and twitters like a little girl. "I have an idea," she says. "A dinner party?" Carlos thinks he might have to work late. Gabrielle pouts that he promised to be home every night that week. "This is business," Carlos tells her. "Said the prince as he rides off into the sunset. Boy, did the movies ever get that wrong," Gabrielle says petulantly. Carlos gives her a pleading look and then informs her that she's just "too tense." He thinks she should go to the spa, or do some shopping. "Find a way to relax!" he says, as he leaves. Of course, Gabrielle immediately calls Miguel. "Where are you?" He's in Algebra. Algebra, my old nemesis. So we meet again! Is he free at 4? He's got track at 4. Gabrielle coos that her husband told her she needed to relax. "Want me to keep my gym clothes on like last time?" Miguel asks. "If you would, please," Gabrielle coos. Because girls love sweaty jockstraps! Make a note, lovers. "A dinner party?" Gay Matt hasn't even unpacked yet! He just wants to stay home and chill! "Oh, [Gay Matt]. There will be liquor. And hors d'oeuvres. And grownups without children. And silverware. Remember silverware?" Lynette asks, as she takes sock after sock out of the dryer. Gay Matt is just wiped out. "I just want to hang out with my best gal," he says and kisses her. I have to say, I am partial to men who call me their best gal -- although I don't like it when they call me "lady" -- but Lynette just looks disappointed. "I was looking so forward to a night out," she whines. Gay Matt apologizes, but sighs that he's beat. "Do you remember what it's like to work a sixty-hour week?" he asks, as he tosses something into her laundry basket. Lynette glares at him. Gay Matt, do you remember what it's like to sleep on the sofa? I suspect you might be in for a refresher course.