02x02 - Warts and All


So... a large plant murdered Ms. Hobart, and then attempted to murder you before you passed out.

You were then awakened moments later by Mr. Jackson here, who probably frightened the monster away.

And now Ms. Hobart's body is missing.

Is that what you'd have us believe?

Or it was someone dressed up as a large plant.

Suspect can't stick to a story.

What... suspect?

How did I become a suspect?

I was... I was locked in the bathtub.

How could I have smeared a 200-foot trail of swamp slime across the hallway, then decapitate a werewolf?

I mean, why would I do that? Why?


Suspect unclear of her own motives.


I'm just curious, do you have to have graduated high school to become a detective?

No, ma'am.

I know what I saw, okay?!

There is a killer on the loose!


Chamberlain, tell them.

Well, I did hear them screaming, but by the time I got down here, it was only Chanel #5 in the room.

That is, until Dr. Munsch walked in.

Well, the Wi-Fi is down in my apartment.

I was on a Skype call in my office.

Dean Munsch.

Number Five is obviously crazy.

She probably murdered Catherine herself for the attention, because she hasn't been touched in months.

I don't even think she's touched herself.

Even her hand thinks she's gross.

The closest she's gotten to s*x is when a bookshelf fell on her.

Yeah. Number Five is just jealous because Number Three and I got asked out by Dr. Brock and Dr. Cascade, and she didn't.

So while we were on our way to our hot double date in Bonetown, she decided to sabotage it, by killing a poor, defenseless, hairless creature.

Hiding the body and forcing us to hurry back to listen to the least-terrifying story anyone has ever heard.

(CRYING) All right.

I don't think we're ever gonna really know what happened here.


Sorry, sweetheart. The evidence is just inconclusive.

Call me if anything else comes up.

In the meantime, no more made-up stories that aren't that scary.

I'm telling the truth. I swear.

Brock: Tyler, can you tell us when the growths first appeared?

About two years ago.

Hold on.

Have you ever tried popping those?

Uh-uh. Nope. We've already talked about this.

I'm not gonna sit here while you try to demean another patient.

I am not demeaning anyone.

I am being brash and confident, because I am the out-of-the-box thinker who brilliantly solved our last case without resorting to a full-frontal lobotomy.


If I was gonna be mean, I'd ask him if he kissed a toad.

Or if he was a toad.

He at least had some lineage, like a toad grandparent.

Or if he rented out his pores on Airbnb for hundreds of expectant female spiders to lay their eggs in.

Okay, we get it.

You're not being mean.

Yes, um, I have tried it, but it hurts, and it doesn't work because they're not zits.

I was diagnosed with neurofibromatosis type 1, which my doctor said it was genetic.

Well, Tyler, there's good news and bad news.

Good news is that there's a machine called a CO2 laser that can shrink and eventually remove your tumors.

It's completely painless.

Really? That's-that's great.


Well, you didn't wait for the bad news.

Yeah, the bad news is they're-they're cumbersome and they're super expensive and we don't have one.

I don't have any money. The only money I make is writing Encyclopedia Brown fan fiction.

I used to love Encyclopedia Brown.

Yeah, you would.

Look at me.

Look at me. I'm a monster.

I don't have anywhere else to go.

My life is a complete mess.

I'm desperate.

So can you please, please, just help me?

Munsch: Oh! Zayday.

You don't happen to know if there are any New Guinean restaurants in town, do you?


I didn't even know that was a thing.

Yeah. I just have a taste for it.

As you were.

Chamberlain, right?

Could I talk to you for a minute?

Okay, so you changed your mind; you want to go out with me.

What? No.

It's Munsch.

There's something bugging me about her, and there's nobody else I can talk to about it.

I'm suspicious.

I mean, why would she want to run a hospital in the first place?

I don't know, to help people?

Yeah, but she also was the dean of a university.

Why would she start a hospital to cure only a handful of people with really obscure diseases?

I mean, she had to pour every penny she had into this place.

Who does that?

She is rich.

And why would she hire me and the Chanels?

The Chanels are idiots, and she hates them.

Like really hates them, hates them.

I believe you got a theory. I do.

There's something about the story that Number Five was telling the other day.

I mean, she said the swamp monster that killed Catherine was about to kill her, and then you scared it off.

And Dean Munsch was just upstairs in her office the whole time?

After hours?

You said it yourself.

Dean Munsch said good night to both you and Chanel Number Five long before Catherine was murdered.

So what, you think she's in on it?

She has to be.

It's the only thing that makes any of this make sense.

I think she's out for revenge.

I think she gathered all the Chanels here in one place, so she could knock them off one by one.

It's like Ten Little Indians.

Whoa, what? You can't say that.

Ten Little Indians.

Agatha Christie novel.

That still doesn't make it okay.

Look, okay.

That's not the point; the point is, we have to get to the bottom of this... together.

And figure out exactly what Dean Munsch is after.


I'm in.

It's not a date.

It's not a date.

Brock: I'm so happy we rescheduled our May-December date.

How are you gonna eat all that popcorn?

I'm not gonna eat any of it.

You see, I buy the biggest tub of popcorn they sell and have them cover it in butter, and then I secretly drop handfuls of it on the floor as the movie plays.

I don't understand. Why?

To make the fatties feel bad about themselves.

Then they feel terrible and eat more.

It's, like, my favorite hobby.

You are the most incredible woman I've ever met.

Thank you.

I'm having a really nice time.


Sorry. I'm sorry.

Are you kidding?

I haven't been manhandled in, like, two years.

Grope at will, Doctor.




Sorry, sorry, sir.

You could have just asked.

I know. Here. Sorry.


Oh, my God... wait.

Are you imitating the guy in the movie with the out-of-control hand?


That is amazing.

You know, I never thought I could put my heart back together again after losing Chad Radwell, but after being with you tonight and your, your amazing hand and your hot mouth, I know I'm finally ready to move on.


Hey. Why are you so sad?

My first boyfriend's name was Clarence.

He had hair like Richard Grieco and he played lacrosse, but... (SIGHS) he was also imaginary.

We dated all throughout high school.

And the day before graduation, he broke up with me.

I thought things would be different in college.

I mean, especially when I joined Kappa and became a Chanel, but then Chanel told everybody that I had teeth in my v*g1n*, so it's basically impossible for me to get a date.

But I knew this would be different.

We're supposed to be grownups now.

But it's exactly the same.

I mean, it's only two weeks, and already Chanel and Number Three have hot doctor boyfriends and no one will even look at me.

I look like I'm wrapped in infected bubble wrap.




Shouldn't be complaining to you. Your life is so much worse.

No, I don't mind.

I can't even tell you how long it's been since a girl even talked to me.

Do you want to see what I used to look before all this?

You were hot!

Like, super hot.

I just don't know how I'm gonna find the money for this laser.

I'm gonna find the money for that laser.

I don't know how, but I'm gonna find it.











What the hell?!

Oh, the look on your face.

God, I knew I should have strapped a GoPro to my Red Devil mask.


What are you doing with your hand?

It wasn't funny when you snuck into the insane asylum in the middle of the night and scared me in my bed, and it's not funny now.

I thought it was pretty funny.

Maybe not Happy Gilmore funny.

Definitely Big Daddy funny.


What is that screaming?

That's my good buddy Randall. He needs medical attention.

Think he's gonna die.

I want you back.


So we're on our annual hunting trip with the International Order of Saint Guntington.

It's an elite secret society of hunters that dates back to the Hapsburger Dynasty.

Chanel: Okay, did anything odd happen on the trip?

Was he bit by a tick or hit in the head?

That is an excellent question, C.


Are you guys boning?

Went to the movies last night, I grabbed her boob.

One boob? I thought doctors had game.


Why don't you try two handfuls...

Okay, okay.

You can fight over Chanel's breasts later.

Though it would be sort of like going to war over the Falklands.

Lot of work for a relatively small and insignificant amount of land.

Anyway, please continue.

Thank you.

So we're on our annual quail swim with the Ordensbrothers RBG, Bill Parcells, Ted Danson.

Giant covey of quail take off right in front of us, we lower our guns to take 'em out.

Ginsberg... she bagged two, two or three.

Hell of a shot. All of a sudden, a couple stragglers take off after the first volley of shots, Randal lowers his gun to take 'em out, when all of a sudden, Liz Cheney pops out.

And I think she was, like, peeing.


Anyway, Randal lowers his shotgun, shoots her right in the face. Boom!


Hope she was okay.

No, I don't. She's awful.

Your friend has the Jumping Frenchman of Maine disease. Watch this.


We don't have a full understanding of what causes it, physiologically, but we do know sufferers of this disorder have an exaggerated startle reflex.

(YELLS): Mah!

Like that.

You know, any slight little stimuli sort of sets him off.





Okay. My guess is that shooting Liz Cheney in the face probably set this off.

Wow. Dr. Holt, you are... incredible.



Did I tell you I started a band?

I'm the lead singer.

Front man. It's called Gold-Plated Nutsack.


Please, please, somebody help me.

I feel like I'm gonna die from screaming.

I'm sorry, Randal, but there... there's no known cure.

But that is the point of this hospital... to cure the heretofore incurable.

So, don't worry, Randal. We are going to help you out.

You have my word.




How do you feel about revenge s*x?

Chanel #5: Hello, America.

♪ I will remember you... ♪

My name is Chanel #5. And I'm here to ask you for help.

This is my friend Tyler.

♪ Will you remember me... ♪

He used to be hot, and now he's covered in weird skin bubbles.

Hi. I'm Tyler, and two years ago, I was diagnosed with...

Two years ago, he was diagnosed with neurofibromatosis type 1.

It's a crippling disease that turned this hot guy into a living, breathing monster.

(CRYING): Won't you please help him afford the expensive laser that could end his torment?

Okay, I can't watch this anymore.

Number Five, that is the worst fund-raising video ever made.

What are you talking about? It's really emotional.

It's really not.

Okay, Number Five, you're going about this all wrong.

But you want Tyler to get those laser treatments so he'll be hot again and you can date him, right?

Well, Number Five, once he's hot again, he's not gonna want to date you.

Chanel's right. The only shot you have with Tyler is if he stays all warty.

Look, if you want to be with Tyler, you need to go for him now, be the girl that stood by him through his tumoriest days.

Then when he's hot again, he'll feel obligated to stay with you and never leave.


All right, what we got?

Someone must have hired someone from one of those online reputation redemption companies to scrub clean any file on this hospital.

And all that comes up on Google is stuff from when it first opened and an article about Dean Munsch buying the place.

And a whole chunk from when it was just a normal hospital in the 1980s is missing.

Look, what we need to do is go down to the local library and just search the microfiche files.

You can't scrub those.

Oh, great idea. Let's go.

No, Zayday doesn't go to the library.

Chamberlain brings the library to Zayday.

I went this afternoon.

Libraries are very "screepy" places.

Okay, but don't we need a special machine to be able to look at these things?

All set up downstairs in the archives room.

I feel like I'm in one of those movies from the 1970s.



This is from November 1, 1986.

The entire hospital staff was murdered on Halloween night.



♪ I'm mad about you... ♪

Hey, what are you guys dressed as?

I am NASA's Voyager 2 spacecraft.

And I'm Uranus.


On January 24, NASA's Voyager 2 made its first encounter with Uranus.

And tonight Dr. Mike and I are gonna recreate the encounter here on Earth.

(CHUCKLES) Amazing!

Hey, do you guys want to go do some cocaine with us?

Not while "Mad About You" is playing.


Man: Maybe I shouldn't be doing this.

I am still on call.

Leave me alone! (SCREAMS)



That mask looks familiar.

No. It can't be.

No. No one knows. I didn't tell anybody.

I didn't tell anybody.


Hey! What do you want?!

Who are you?! (GROANS)







♪ Children behave... ♪

Oh, my God! (SHOUTING)


♪ And watch how you play ♪
♪ They don't understand ♪
♪ And so we're running just as fast as we can ♪
♪ Holding onto one another's hands ♪
♪ Trying to get away into the night ♪
♪ And then you put your arms around me ♪
♪ And we tumble to the ground and then you say ♪
♪ I think we're alone now ♪
♪ There doesn't seem to be anyone around... ♪

No one was arrested. They never found out who did it.



What have you two been doing?


Are you feeling okay?

I'm gonna be feeling great in about 15 minutes.

You live with the Chanels, right?

That's right.

Would you mind providing detailed information as to their schedules?

Like where they are at certain times of the day, when they're most likely to be alone.

Why would you need to know that?

If I know where the Chanels are at any given time, I can make sure they can handle the workload they've been given, considering they're idiots who aren't doctors.

Well, in that case, you'd need to want to know the same information about me, wouldn't you?

Uh... yeah. Right.


Way you just said... that made it seem like you only want intels on the Chanels.

Well, what if I did?

That would mean your explanation was a lie, and I'd have a real problem with helping you.

Fine. If you can't help me, I'll find someone who can.

Pick up my supplements.


What are you doing?

Uh, showering?

My third of the day.

Like to stay extra fresh just in case emergency s*x pops up.

This is an employee locker room.

Ah. Look, I get it.

Standing in here with me... all naked, sudsed up.

You're thinking to yourself, "Wow! That is the last climber to summit Mount Chanel. How am I supposed to compete with that?"

Look, Chad, I'm a surgeon... a brilliant one.

You check off two boxes on the dateable guy checklist: handsome and rich.

And guess what, I check those, too.

Okay, first of all, I have never heard of that checklist, so I call bull crap on that existing.

Oh, it exists.

Second, did you just call me handsome?

'Cause, given the circumstances, that's a little weird.


I'm glad you brought up boxes.

Isn't that what this is all about... Chanel's box?

Well, guess what, Dr. I Got Lucky Guessing What's Wrong With Chad's Good Buddy Randal.

The only dude in the shower that's ever gonna check Chanel's box is me.

I don't know if I could stand for that, Chad.

Well, before this gets any more homoerotic...

I don't think that's possible.

...I'm gonna do something I hoped I wouldn't have to do.

We're gonna settle this in the ancient Radwell tradition.

You and me, local YMCA, squash.

First to 11.

Best out of three, winner gets Chanel.

That is awful and misogynistic to use a girl as a prize for a sporting event.

But Chanel's worth it.

I'm in.

Think our wieners just touched accidentally.

I know they think I'm crazy because I tend to respond to everything with the same extreme level of intensity, but it was real.

I was attacked. And I didn't kill Werewolf Girl.

You know, I'm actually kind of an amateur detective, 'cause all the Encyclopedia Brown fan fiction I write.

What if I helped you find proof?

And you will not even have to leave one quarter on the gas can.


Mm. I don't understand.

It's an Encyclopedia Brown joke.



I basically have zero personality.

I like your personality.

Man: You like his personality?

And here we thought you were just into guys who look like... the inside of a hemorrhoid-infested butt.


Dude, he looks like bubble wrap with a... with a staph infection. (LAUGHS)

No, wait. I have a better one.

He looks like one of those...


You cannot speak to him this way!

He is a beautiful soul, and I do not have teeth in my v*g1n*!

I'm... sorry.

Sometimes I tend to overreact a little bit since I stopped taking my meds.

Munsch: Can I help you?

Zayday: Actually, you can.

Why did you have the online history of this hospital scrubbed?

What's this all about?

On October 31, 1986, there was a mass murder in this hospital, and all the evidence that was left behind was green slime.

That same green slime was there the night that Chanel #5 was attacked, and you just happened to be there.

So what is your theory?

You attacked Chanel #5.

Or you had someone do it.

Me, Chanel, Number Three, Number Five... we're your loose ends.

You gathered us all here in one place so you could knock us off one by one.

Munsch: Shh!

I could really use a friend right now.

Just someone to talk to.

Just sit and listen.

Well... what I'm gonna tell you is in the strictest of confidence.

Is that understood?

I'm not trying to murder anyone.

I'm trying to save someone's life.


The headaches started about eight months ago.

Just blistering headaches.

At first, I thought it was the stress and excitement of my book tour.

Then the searing joint pain and the shivering... I-I would freeze all night and wake up in a pool of sweat.


And then my neighbor... asked me why I was walking so weird.

It was subtle at first, but then I noticed it, too.

My gait has changed.

I-I've been to doctors and specialists.

They just... they just don't know what it is.

In fact, they don't think it's anything.

But-but I know it's something. I...

I just don't think I have very long.

Look, I-I didn't start this hospital because I give a rat's ass about the American health care system.

I started it to find out what this disease was before it kills me.

(CRYING): I don't think...

Dean Munsch, I'm so sorry.

Chamberlain: Well, you know, the one thing to take into consideration is that you lived a long, productive life.


Please, just help me. Zayday, help me.

Please help find the cure. Please.












What the hell are you?

Cassidy: What's going on?

Munsch: Oh! Call the police!

No, don't call the police; they're morons.

Oh, my God, are you okay?

Number Five wasn't lying.

She was attacked, by this thing that I think is responsible for all those murders here 30 years ago!



Oh, come on!

Oh, you've got to be kidding me.


From now on, when someone has just fought off the killer and they're about to reach down and pull off the mask and find out who it is, not the time to distract them with a bunch of questions!

Oh, I was so close!


As it turns out, Jumping Frenchman of Maine Disease is one of the more treatable rare disorders we encounter, so you'll be happy to know your friend is responding very well.

The key...

The key is removing stimuli through sensory deprivation to calm down the neurotransmitters.

Now, we provided an environment for Randal where nothing will startle him.


What are you talking about? He's still screaming.

Perhaps I-I whipped the drapes too fast.

Maybe next time I should try it slower, right?



Randy? Use the towel.

Try the bucket, Randal.

Get... put it on your head.


Good boy, Randy.

You see, Chad, when you've studied medicine as long as I have, you come to learn that sometimes, with treatment, the symptoms get a little worse before they get better.

What are you doing?


Well, I'm placing my hand on your shoulder in a way that subtly asserts my dominance.

No... what is your other hand doing?


What do you say we give Randal a little privacy, huh?


Come on, everyone.

Well, well, well.

It's a damn good thing you got Quantico's finest on the case.

Do you know the number one lesson you learn as a top FBI cadet? Hmm?

Trust your instincts.

And do you know what my instincts told me the first time I laid eyes on that Zayday Williams?

I was like, "This bitch right here is a stone-cold ho."

She tried to accuse you of being the killer just to deflect the attention off herself.

How do we prove it's not me?

Boom. I got you. Okay?

This is what I learned at Quantico.

And by watching movies about Quantico.

Ooh, and from the hit TV show Quantico, now in its thrilling second season.

(LAUGHS) Here's the thing: If you want to catch a killer, you got to get inside the mind of a killer.

Huh? Or in Zayday's case, underneath the weave of a killer.

And I know just the right person who can help us do it. Hmm?

Chad: Do you think it's weird that you're, like, 60 and still working at a teaching hospital?

You should be out of school by now, bro.

You should've graduated.



Were you held back or something?


You obviously grew up playing squash.

I grew up playing Radwell-style water polo.

Similar rules, except the horses get in the water on horseback.

Actually, I've only been playing a couple years.

Whose hand is that, bro?

Anonymous donor.

I'm done.

Oh, I'm not.

I'm just getting started.

Oh, and if you think being a doctor gives you some sort of advantage over me, you're wrong. 'Cause guess what.

I'm about to become a doctor, too.

You realize it takes years?

I'm playing the long game.

Back off Chanel.

And back off me.

This hand is capable of a lot more than playing squash.



She's down at the end.


Orderly: I'll be watching.

You'll be fine.

Man: Are you my birthday present?


Oh, that guy just threw birthday cake frosting in my hair!



Hello, Chanel. Dean Munsch.

Chanel #3.

Special Agent Denise Hemphill, FBI.

Those, uh, drawings are real nice.

They're from memory. Memory is all I have now that I don't have a view.

Glad to hear you're doing well.

We just wanted to ask you a couple questions.


You were just gaining my trust back by complimenting my drawings, and now this ham-handed segue into asking about the attacks that happened at your hospital.

Oh, sookie, sookie now!

Now how'd you know about that?

Tell me, do these attacks happen in the dead of night during the graveyard shift when most of your staff has already left?


And does this killer wear a mask with horns and does he or she leave a trail of green slime wherever he goes?

You know who the killer is, don't you?

I also know that there's a connection to the Halloween murders that happened 30 years ago.

The clues are right in front of your face.

You just don't see them.

Just tell us who the killer is!

Quid pro quo, Chanel.

I'll tell you everything that I know.

But first, I want a transfer to your hospital and I want a room with a view.

You're insane.

I'm not finished.

'Cause I have a list of some super-high-end beauty products that I want.

I want a three-ounce bottle of Lab Systique's SUPER "M" age-defying face serum.

It really just makes your skin extra glowy.

And a bottle of Sergio Jergoni's Luminoquintessence Color Control Brightening Moisturizer.

It will wake up any skin tone.

Chanel: Hester, you know that's impossible!

Those products were discontinued, like, ten years ago.

You're just gonna have to start trawling Craigslist for an estate sale of old French whores.

Until then, you better start praying that this Green Meanie doesn't kill again.

Bitch, ain't nobody got time for that!

You better take this damn ChapStick and tell us what we need to know.


You have my requests.

Now fly away, little birds.

Fly, fly. Fly, fly, fly.

I had a really nice time tonight.

Me, too.

You really had my back.




Both: Surprise.

What is going on?

You passed the test.

What test?

You saw somebody that society had decided was hideous, and you chose to look past it and see the human being underneath.

That is something worth celebrating!

Well... thanks, I guess.

Not you. Him. We were testing him.


Chanel: Tyler, you have truly learned the lesson that looks aren't the only thing that matters.

So we've decided to reward you by purchasing the laser for your treatment.

(LAUGHS): Wait. What?


Chanel #5: Wait. How did you get the money?

I asked Chad for it.

I told him it was for an experimental weapons-grade pube laser that was developed by the Chinese military to give me a permanently stubble-free box.

He started writing the check before I even finished that phrase.

Thank you.



So what'd you find out, dick?

No, I-I prefer Richard.

No "Richards" go by "Dick" since Nixon.

I don't know what you're talking about.

I'm calling you "dick" because your late.

Okay, let's start with the side stuff.

Then let's move on to Dr. Holt.

Okay, well, so, all of the girls that I showed that picture of your pen1s to...


...thought that it looked very nice, but a few of them commented about the way it, quote, "bends at kind of an extreme right angle."



As for, uh, Dr. Holt and his mystery hand, let me just say this.


I cross-referenced "donated hand" and "squash champion," and I came up with a name: Marshall Winthrop. Winthrop was this world-champion squash player. He won a bronze medal at the Olympics. But beating his opponents on the court did not satisfy him. He hated them for losing. He considered it a sign of disrespect to the game he loved so much.


He started cruising for squash opponents on Craigslist.

He drew them in with the promise of a game against one of the world's best. But all of them lost not only the game, they lost their lives. Over 600 poor souls.


Did... did you order me something?

Richard, we eat when we're hungry.

Both: Not when we want to.


Keep going.

Richard: So Winthrop was kind of an idiot, because eventually the police tracked him down through the Craigslist ads. He was arrested before he could finish what he must have instinctively known was going to be his last supper... fois gras rillettes, Cabernet Franc, rocket salad.

Same menu Brock's hand was subconsciously writing.

Richard, what did we say about personal space?

I'm sorry.

He was executed by the state, but not before he became a full-body organ donor.

Oh, my God.


That means...


Dr. Brock Holt has the hand of one of the world's most notorious serial killers.

Shouldn't this guy be under anesthesia?

He's dead.

Practicing some new techniques.

Does it bother you that when you spank it, you're being totally gay?

Excuse me?

And you're celebrating Palm Sunday with another bro's hand, so...

These are my hands.

You know, my best bro in college was gay.

Till he got murdered.

Which brings my next question.

Is it weird for you that the hand that burps your worm is the hand of a serial killer?

So now you know my secret.


What are you gonna do about it?

Oh, you'll find out.

This is driving me insane! Most of Dean Munsch's symptoms make sense... headaches, chills, joint pains.

That sounds autoimmune to me.

But this... funny walking thing... that's messing me up!

(SIGHS) A strange gait?

It's not a symptom for anything.

Okay, can I be totally honest with you?

I am really hungry, and I'm having a hard time concentrating.

I've been over there scrolling through Julianna Margulies's best Emmy looks for the past 45 minutes.

I know this good Chinese spot.

The Szechuan Flavor Palace?

No. Last time I ate there, I got sick.

All right, well, you like Ethiopian food, they got one across the street.

But they close at 9:00, so we got to hurry up.

That's it.

You haven't been to New Guinea lately, have you?

As a matter of fact, I have.

You know, it was the last leg of my book tour.

May agent's assistant... moron... screwed up, and I was supposed to do a book signing in Princeton, New Jersey, and instead she put me on a plane to Papua, New Guinea. (SCOFFS)

Anyway, that's where I met Swando, who is a fantastic Papuan medicine man.

And he invited me to this amazing party where I ate this delicious sort of custardy, eggy, scrambled thing. Uh, most delicious thing I've ever eaten.

What? Is there a problem?

I'm afraid you have kuru.

What the hell's kuru?

It's a disease that cannibalists get after they eat people.

I beg your pardon.

He's right.

It was first discovered in New Guinea where certain tribes would eat the bodies of their deceased family members.

Anyone who consumed the contaminated brain tissue would contract the disease.

Oh, no. Oh, I just remembered.

Swando's fantastic party was, in fact, a funeral.


Okay. Well...

So what's the treatment?

I'm sorry, Dean Munsch, but if you already have the symptoms, the literature states that you have less than a year to live.

There is no cure.

Oh, my God.

This is a secret.

You can tell no one.

No one must know, because if the board finds out, (OVER HEADPHONES): they'll think I'm unfit to run the hospital.

Zayday: We will keep it a secret.

So then, they finally admitted they were my parents, but only on the condition that I never tell anyone.

But I feel like I can tell you, because...

Tyler: I'm your boyfriend.

Say it loud and proud, Chanel #5.

I'm your boyfriend, and you're my girlfriend.

Thank you so much for seeing the real me beneath all these tumors.

Thank you for seeing the real me beneath all of Chanel's lies.


Hey, I forgot to tell you. Yesterday, I went on OurOwnPrivateldaville.com.

It's one of my favorite Encyclopedia Brown message boards.

And I let the Encyclopedia Brown hive mind try and solve the case of the Green Meanie who attacked you.

Did you find something?

Whoa, did I ever.

You're not gonna believe this. It's a game-changer. (LAUGHS)

Oh, hey, what's happening?

I'm going into surgery now?

(LAUGHS): That's... that's amazing!

Did you plan this? You sneaky little girl.

Wait, wait. No, you're not supposed to have surgery until tomorrow.

Hey, hey, I got to go. They're wheeling me away.

Look, I love you so much, and I promise I'm gonna keep loving you even when I'm hot.



Hey, did you guys know anything about Tyler's surgery being moved up to tonight?

There's no way that's happening, because we just left Brock and Cassidy, and they said they were going home to have a handsome contest.

It's where they try on different outfits and see who's more handsome.

Wait, but... if Brock and Cassidy weren't there, then who just wheeled Tyler into surgery?

Tyler: Why are you strapping me down?

Aren't I gonna be under some sort of anesthesia?


Holy crap! (GASPS)

Please. I don't... I don't want to die. Please.

(CRYING): Please. Please, no!


Please, I-I don't want to die.

Please don't... (SCREAMING)

♪ I need a hero ♪
♪ I'm holding out for a hero till the end of the night ♪


♪ And he's got to be strong ♪
♪ And he's got to be fast ♪
♪ And he's got to be fresh from the fight ♪



♪ I need a hero. ♪



Oh, my God.

Do you guys know what this means?

I just lost my best chance at happiness with a really hot guy?

Definitely that.

Ladies... we have another serial killer on our hands.