01x10 - Thanksgiving

[bunniefuu]

Previously on Screen Queens...

Grace: Boone m*rder*d 13 people.

There were two babies.

Twins... a boy and a girl.

Gigi: Your commitment to revenge is clearly greater than your brother's was.

I'll be going to the Hamptons for Thanksgiving with the Radwells.

I'm pregnant!

Hey, Chanel?

Listen. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I don't think I can bone you right now.

My wanger is way stressed out.

I got a kid on the way with a crazy neck-braced baby mama who I now gotta marry and be miserable for the rest of my life.

You don't have to marry that psycho cow Hester, because you don't have a baby on the way... if you know what I mean.

No, I-I don't know what you mean.

I have k*lled for love, Chad.

I've k*lled for our love.

Wh... what?

Chad, Hester was never pregnant.

She just said that so you'd invite her to Thanksgiving with your family in the Hamptons.

But then she had a little accident on the stairs.

A what?

Wait, are-are you saying you k*lled Hester?

Gravity k*lled Hester.

I just gave her a little push.

Hester can't come between us anymore, Chad.

You and I can pick up right where we left off.

You can bring me home for Thanksgiving and introduce me to my future in-laws.

Hold on.

What did you do with the body?

Duh. I put it in the meat locker.

It's where we've been putting all the dead bodies.

Oh, my God.

(exhales)

Chanel, that is so hot.

I want to see it.

I need to see the body.

Look, we can have a three-way with the body. What? No!

Oh, come on, I need this!

If you expect me to take our relationship to the next level by taking you home to the Hamptons for Thanksgiving, you're going to have to prove to me you can meet my needs.

Ugh, fine! I'll show you the body, but not so you can have sex with it.

I'll show it to you so that you and I will share a dangerous secret that will strengthen our relationship and bring us closer together.

No frigging way. Where is she?

I don't understand how this keeps happening!

Is this meat locker, like, a wormhole to an alternate universe or something?

Okay, Chanel, you gotta relax.

Believe me, no one's more disappointed that Hester's hot dead bod isn't in here.

Listen.

I'm not a detective or anything, but what if Hester was never dead and she just managed to escape?

That's not possible!

I watched her fall down the stairs!

After she fell down the stairs, did you check her pulse?

No, Chad, because I'm not, like, a registered nurse.

Well, Chanel, it seems to me like you tried to k*ll Hester and totally failed.

So you should probably bring a security detail with you to the Hamptons because... the girl's insane.

She'll probably stop at nothing until she gets her revenge by murdering you.

Gigi: No offense, but this is not how I wanted to spend the holidays.

I should be watching the Macy's parade and making decorative hand turkeys with my boyfriend, Wes, instead of spending Thanksgiving all single and watching the dumb parade with you.

Still, I do appreciate you keeping me company.

No one wants to spend a room service Thanksgiving alone.

Are you going to talk at all?

Look, I get it.

You're bummed we had to m*rder your brother.

But honestly? (scoffs)

You shouldn't be mad at me.

Boone was out of control.

I mean, between the three of us?

We're the sane ones. (laughs)

He just screwed up that entire operation.

God...

(knocking at door)

Oh. Room service Thanksgiving.

Yes!

Roasted quail and a side of stuffing and a cranberry juice.

Oh, I had asked for an electric serrated carving Kn*fe.

Just wouldn't be Thanksgiving without the whir of a small motor cutting through flesh! Yeah.

Here you go. Mmm.

Yeah.

Now, I know you've got other plans today, and for alibi's sake we need to protect your cover, but I am not letting you leave on an empty stomach.

I hope you're hungry, because I ordered the closest thing the menu had to a traditional Thanksgiving dinner.

Is that what quail is?

I thought they were bigger.

Oh!

Nope.

You know what I was picturing? Pheasant.

Yeah.

All right, little birdie!

Time to slice off those breasts.

Real quick: I just wanted to thank you for spending this hour with me.

I feel like this holiday is all about family, and, well, as you know, I gave up on my real family a long time ago.

I mean, at this point, the closest thing I have to family is... you.

So... how about you do the honors?

(Kn*fe whirring)

♪

Chanel #3: I understand that Thanksgiving is supposed to be about family and being together and thanking God that we were born rich in America and not in Uganda or Venezuela or any of those other African countries.

But modern Thanksgiving, at least in the Swenson family, is basically a Tinder date.

It looks so good at first.

Inviting, the possibility of a real connection, but when you actually arrive at Swenson Thanksgiving's door, the whole thing is just fat and upsetting and disappointing.

But since you came all this way, you figure you might as well go through with it, even though you know when you're done, you're probably going to hate yourself.

(gasps)

Hello! (laughs)

Hi, sweetheart!

How you doing?

The whole serial k*ller thing is really... Listen.

Your "dad" started in drinking early this morning, when he found out that Jay Cutler's starting for the Bears today.

So try not to make eye contact.

We don't want another Thanksgiving 2008 incident again.

Freddy was the one who went and got Grandpa's old pistols and challenged me to a duel.

I know, darling.

But your father loves your brother much more than he loves you, so if we are gonna keep the peace, you're just gonna have to take the blame for everything.

Now, come on, we're just sitting down to eat.

Look who's here!

(laughing)

(sports announcer speaks indistinctly over television)

You're late. The game's just about to start.

And now, you get to sit in the back row with the help!

Screw you, Freddy. Daddy, I want to sit with you.

We haven't seen each other in months.

On every box of Swenson Frozen Food is a set of instructions.

It says how long you need to microwave the Mega-Cheesy Mac and Cheese Hearty Dinner and the Italian Style Chicken Cacciatore.

What do you think would happen if those instructions were incorrect?

The damn food would either still be frozen or completely overcooked.

This family's fortune is built on being right on time.

You're late!

Sit your ass in the back with... Margarita.

♪

Announcer: three of their last four and could really use a good save for Thanksgiving, which is all about family, friendship and football.

The three Fs of November.

Announcer 2: I couldn't agree more.

There's nothing better than sitting together as a family, watching the game.

Laughing, smiling, just enjoying the warmth of each other's company.

That's what it's all about today.

Togetherness.

Announcer 1: Super, Brian. Family and togetherness.

Announcer 2: Speaking of togetherness, it's still not coming together...

I'm leaving!

Honey!

But you didn't even touch your peas or your tiny carrot squares.

Do you want me to defrost some lasagna or Salisbury steak?

I don't want you to defrost anything.

I hate defrosted food.

Why is it called Italian Style Chicken Cacciatore?

All chicken cacciatore is Italian style.

(scoffs)

This is not what Thanksgiving is supposed to be.

Mr. Swenson: Thanksgiving is about tradition.

This is the Swenson tradition.

That doesn't bother any of you?

That our family tradition demands TV trays?

There is a k*ller on the loose in my sorority house.

A bunch of my sort-of friends have been k*lled and no one has asked me about it.

I-I've had it.

I'm out, people.

Oh. And I'm starting a new family tradition.

It involves me never coming to any family occasions ever again.

Honey, where are you going?

Home.

(loud metallic clang)

(loud metallic clang)

(clang)

(clang)

(clang)

(clang)

(screams)

(screams) Oh, my God.

Would you stop with the screaming?

What are you doing here?

I came to slaughter old Tiburon.

Wait, isn't that the turkey you pardoned on the quad yesterday?

Yes. Good old Tiburon.

You don't think we would actually pardon a turkey, do you?

It's more like a stay of execution until no one is looking.

But why here?

Ah. Well, I was disinvited to Thanksgiving at my in-laws' because they still think that I k*lled their son, my jerk-off ex-husband, so I'm kind of on my own.

Plus, you girls have the best cooking facilities on campus, although it doesn't look like you ever use them.

Why are you here?

My family Thanksgiving sucked, so I came here.

Mmm. Hey... since you already have a turkey, why don't we just cook here?

I've never cooked before, but that should be fine, since I usually just pretend to eat.

Well, I can cook and eat for the both of us.

But I demand that after we eat, we play charades.

Deal.

(phone ringing)

(sighs)

Hi, Dad.

Hey, where are you?

You promised me you'd at least come by here before you flew to Oakland with Zayday.

Yeah, we decided not to go.

You're in town? Where are you?

We're at Kappa.

We felt weird leaving the house all alone.

Besides, Dean Munsch and Chanel #3 are here.

So we've decided to have an orphans Thanksgiving all together.

But you're not an orphan.

Your dad is ten minutes away.

Thanksgiving?

Honey, it's kind of like our cranberry jam.

Where's Gigi?

I don't know.

She just didn't show up.

Oh, no, no, Number Three.

You pull the feathers the way they lay on the bird.

And don't pull too many or you'll tear the skin.

I mean, I guess you could come over here if you wanted.

Okay, um, only if it's okay with you.

Yeah, I mean, it's fine.

I'll see you soon.

Yes, I'll see you.

(dinging)

Mrs. Radwell: Welcome, everyone.

It is so nice you could all make it home for another Radwell family Thanksgiving.

We have a newcomer this year.

So, let's all give a round of tolerant Radwell applause to our newcomer Chanel... Oberlin.

Yes, welcome, Chanel.

Chad hasn't mentioned you... ever.

Before we, uh, dig into this delicious feast that Mrs. Radwell has spent all day overseeing, let us honor the timeworn, age-old Radwell tradition of standing up, stating our names and saying what we're thankful for this year.

I'm Tad Radwell and I am thankful that the turmoil in the Fertile Crescent has not impacted this family's wealth.

I am Bunny Radwell and I'm thankful that the Radwell family name continues to be one of the oldest bloodlines in America.

Who exactly are the Oberlins, Chanel?

Mrs. Radwell, I am happy to report that the Oberlin family is a well-established American dynasty.

A little known fact is that my great-great- great-great grandfather Ichabod Oberlin actually signed the Declaration of Independence.

It's only "little known" because he was the last one to sign it, so there was no more room for him to put his name on the front, so he had to flip it over and put his name on the back.

Oh, also the Oberlins came over on the Mayflower.

Oh, well, the Radwells came over on a ship that arrived 30 years before the Mayflower.

So...

(clears throat) I'm Thad Radwell.

And this year I'm so thankful for the lax indecency laws in Eastern Europe that inundate our Internet with millions of hours of hard-core p*rn.

Which helps to just generally raise the bar on the stuff that chicks feel like they have to do now.

I mean, am I right?

Come on, let's go, Blue!

Hello.

I'm Muffy St. Pierre-Radwell.

And I am so, so thankful for my husband Brad.

And also that I'm starting my very own new clothing line, and it's gonna be so... Hey, everyone.

I'm Brad Radwell.

And for the third year in a row, I am thankful that I work at L.A.'s hottest talent agency, Accentuated Artists, huh?

Up high... Boom!

Boom!

You know, ever since I was a little boy, I knew what God wanted me to do and that was make money off the backs of creative people.

(grunts)

Hello, I'm Chad Radwell.

This year I'm thankful for someone who's very special to me.

Without this person, I wouldn't be the man I am right now.

In fact, I wouldn't be here at all.

I am, of course, referring to the serial k*ller who's stalking the campus of Wallace University.

I am so thankful that he, for whatever reason, has not m*rder*d me yet.

I am so, so grateful.

I'm also thankful to that serial k*ller for not k*lling you, Chad.

And that you will have a long, long, long life.

You have such a vast future ahead of you.

You'll meet so many new and different women.

So many wonderful women to go out with and break up with and move on from.

You should be thankful that this table is too long for me to reach across and strangle you, bitch!

(gasps) Excuse me, but another guest has arrived.

A lady by the name of... Hester.

Oh, God, no, no, no, no!

(gasps)

Happy Thanksgiving, Radwells.

I'm sorry I'm late.

Oh, God.

What did I miss?

I hope I haven't kept you waiting.

I'm famished.

I beg your pardon.

But who are you?

Uh, she is my-my sober coach.

What?

Chad, I didn't know you had a drinking problem.

Neither did I.

That is how insidious alcoholism is, Dad.

That's true.

Let me help you put this on your lap.

What are you doing here? How are you alive?

Good thing I was wearing this neck brace when you pushed me down the stairs, because it saved my life.

And laying me on the ground in the meat locker was the perfect thing to do.

The hard slab of the cold steel curbed the swelling in my spinal column.

When I woke up and regained consciousness, I felt better than ever.

Really, I should be thanking you right now.

That fall?

It might have cured me of my severe scoliosis.

Dinner is served.

Radwells?

I have an announcement to make.

This is a blessed occasion.

Because I am carrying a little bit of each one of you inside of me.

I have a little Radwell inside of me.

I'm having Chad's baby!

(groaning)

We're so happy.

Chanel: That's a lie!

I saw her eat sushi, soft cheese and booze!

Enough!

Chad, I have never been so ashamed!

You have besmirched the Radwell family Thanksgiving by bringing home not one but two gold-digging hoochies!

I'm sorry, but maybe you didn't hear me.

I'm carrying your future grandchild!

You listen to me, you swarthy little runt.

We have an entire legal team at Bender, Bender & Stanwyk on retainer just to make spurious paternity claims like yours simply go away.

(crying): But I'm carrying your son's seed.

The only thing you're carrying is water weight, you bloated little tramp.

That's not a baby bump.

That's a poo belly.

(echoing): Poo belly, poo belly, poo belly, poo belly...

Now, would someone please pass me the stuffing?

(all sigh)

Wow, who knew it took so long to cook a turkey?

All right, ladies, Weston, let's head into the dining room, where we fill up on Peking ravioli and charcuterie.

I have a little game to play that's gonna make the time fly right by.

Hmm.

Yes, it's simple.

We're gonna go around, and each of us is gonna make our case as to who we think the Red Devil k*ller is.

I'll go first.

I think we can all agree that one of the Red Devil K*llers is Boone.

I propose that the other Red Devil k*ller is...

Chanel #3.

What?

No, I've never k*lled anyone as far as I know.

But your real daddy has, Baby Manson.

Grace: Okay, there is no evidence at all that mass m*rder is genetic. Wait, her dad is Charles Manson... How do I not know this?

Munsch: I'm not saying it's anything more than pepper in the soup, seasoning for a big fat dish of well-cooked evidence. Such as?

Item one... the chain saw att*ck at Kappa.

(screaming)

I was probably the last one to wake up and come downstairs that night.

I saw Chanel #3 running up the back stairway, face glowing with perspiration, trying to sneak into her room undetected.

I would say that is more than a little suspicious.

I have bathroom shame issues.

I always wait until everyone is asleep and then I sneak down to poop in the little powder room downstairs.

That way, no one will disturb me.

I usually wait a week or so between movements, so it can be kind of an intense workout... I sweat a lot.

(coughs): Yeah, right.

Um, okay, even still, how could she possibly be Charles Manson's daughter and one of the babies in the bathtub?

I mean, don't we all agree that those babies are the K*llers?

Do we even have any evidence that this Manson story is true?

How do we know she didn't just invent it just so we wouldn't think she was the k*ller?

Goose.

That seems like an unnecessarily complicated cover story.

Yes, but aren't those the best kind?

I think we have plenty here to go to the police.

Let's see how innocent Chanel #3 looks when they start to dig a little.

Hold the phone, Dean Munsch.

I'd like to play, too.

And the person I think it is is you.

(door closes)

Chanel: Hello, Mother, it's me.

Chanel Oberlin!

Your daughter?

What, are you drunk?

Okay, drunk on wine is still drunk, Mother.

You know what, never mind.

You know, the one time I call you for a little advice, you're hammered.

Happy Thanksgiving, Mom.

I suppose we should discuss the matter of payment.

What are you talking about?

I'm asking you to name your price.

My price?

Are you propositioning me?

No, I'm asking how much money it'll take to make you go away.

You seem to be unaware, sir, that an Oberlin cannot be bought.

My family is super-gross rich.

(laughs)

Look at how you've chosen to dress.

That outfit screams desperation.

You're trash, Chanel.

Which means your family's trash, too.

And I'll tell you one thing right now, you will never get your hands on the Radwell fortune.

I am, however, willing to write you a check for $50,000 if you will leave now and never come back.

(scoffs)

It's a lot of money for a family like yours.

They could use it to buy another Olive Garden or whatever it is they do.

(laughs)

Oh, let me ask you a question.

What is the best part about Thanksgiving?

The leftovers.

What do you do if you can't wait till the next morning to eat those leftovers?

You turn those leftovers into dessert.

What about the pumpkin pie?

Uh, okay, once you've had Savory Leftover Aspic à la Radwell, you'll never want pumpkin pie ever again.

Tastes like Henry VIII just barfed in my mouth.

Chanel: Chad!

Your father just offered me $50,000 to leave the house and never come back.

Well, I don't want to sound like a d*ck here, but have you ever considered maybe you should leave?

I mean, with you and Hester here, this Thanksgiving, it's spiraling out of control.

And later tonight, we're about to get together and play Pictionary, and as it stands now, that game of Pictionary is gonna be super awkward.

You can't be serious.

I am serious, Chanel, and uberconfused.

Hester here, who is super weird and an obvious psychopath, she says she's pregnant.

You said she's not pregnant.

You said she was dead, she says she's not dead.

I'm kind of inclined to believe her.

Plus, are you gonna make, like, a habit of just, like, pushing people down the stairs?

'Cause I think we can agree, not the most adult form of conflict resolution, Chanel.

(clears throat)

Ladies and gentlemen, dessert is served.

Oh.

Mom, Dad!

Thad, Brad!

I'm trying to get my aspic on!

Now that I have my snacks, you may begin with your clearly desperate attempt to prove I'm a k*ller.

Oh, wait.

Weston, would you mind opening a bottle of red for mama?

(sighs)

CHANEL #5: Hey, all!

I brought some of my famous eight-meat stuffing.

It's beef, venison, alligator, buffalo, rabbit, goat, rattlesnake and Spam.

I cut all of the meats super thin, so that you're guaranteed every meat in every bite.

When'd you get here, Chanel #5?

I thought you said you were leaving forever or something like that?

She says stuff like that but never really follows through.

Well, I, um, I actually did go home, but apparently my family forgot to tell me that they were going to the Maldives this year for Thanksgiving, so...

I'm fine.

CHANEL #3: Sure, whatever.

You came just in time for me to tell everyone why I know that Dean Munsch is the k*ller.

Who is the only person we know who has a more clear and obvious motive for k*lling Kappas "then" Dean Munsch?

Than Dean Munsch.

Than.

Not then... Than.

Have you ever even cracked open a book?

Or attended a class?

(chuckles) God.

I hate you people.

Exactly. You hate sororities and you hate Kappa Kappa Tau, and when you couldn't just kick us off campus, you made sure no one pledged but losers, and then started removing us from school the only way you could: m*rder.

She has a point, Dean Munsch.

You were there that night in Kappa 20 years ago, and no one knows what happened to the babies.

It makes sense that you could have taken them and raised them as your k*ller pawns in service of getting revenge on a place that you consider to be evil.

Really, that's quite a reach.

Not really.

You did say just the other day that the only way to live is to play the long game.

Spending 20 years plotting for payback on a crime you consider to be horrible is exactly the kind of thing that you would do.

And of course you would wait until the daughter of the ringleader of that crime arrived on campus.

I really hope you can come up with something better than that.

Oh, I can.

I can prove that you're the only person in this room we know for a fact is a m*rder*r.

I saw you in the coffee shop the other day, reading one of your old Playgirl magazines.

I didn't look that closely, but what I did see was your meal.

Baked Lays, a pickle wedge, a Blondie, and a half-eaten bologna sandwich.

Wait.

You are allergic to bologna.

That's the whole reason they knew you didn't k*ll your ex-husband.

No, you can't be allergic to bologna or any other lunch meat.

People who are allergic to those things are affected by the sulfites in them, which are plentiful in the Spam that's in my stuffing that you're eating right now.

And in the red wine you're washing it down with.

Feel free to call the police now, Dean Munsch, or I'd be perfectly happy to do it for you.

Wait.

There's something I need to say first.

Something that's been... eating at me for the longest time.

Now, I'm not saying I know who the k*ller is, but I just-just want to talk it through.

What? Dad, who do you think the k*ller is?

I'm sorry, Gracie, but I think the k*ller might be... you.

Dad, could you honestly think that I'm the k*ller?

Look, I don't want you to be, honey.

Okay, look, there's just some stuff that doesn't add up.

Look, I've gone through all the suspects in my mind, and I can explain away all my suspicions for everyone except you.

Can we just talk this out, so you can help me see that I'm wrong?

Turkey isn't ready yet.

(scoffs)

Actually, I kind of think that she's the k*ller, too.

I mean, it would fit in with your whole hard worker, let's find out the truth, never take no for an answer, awful personality.

Do you expect us to believe that when your dad told you that your mom d*ed in a fire, you would just accept it and move on with your life?

CHANEL #3: This does raise some questions.

You are kind of obsessed with your mom.

You drone on about it endlessly.

CHANEL #5: You know what I think?

I think you did find out who your mom was and that she was awful and responsible for Kappa's greatest shame, the death of the girl in the bathtub.

And that you hated the fact that the face of Kappa's evil was this woman who you idolized.

So you swore to come to Wallace and create an even bigger, even worse bogeyman to represent Kappa, the Red Devil.

Anything to redeem your beloved dead mother.

Hmm, makes a lot of sense that that is your theory, Number Five, because it's insane.

That makes no sense.

Grace: Pete?

I thought you were with your family.

I can't rest when the k*ller's still out there, so I stayed behind to do some more research.

But how did you know we were here?

Zayday has been live-tweeting the whole night, and I know everything you guys have been talking about, and you're all wrong.

I know who the k*ller is, and it's not Grace.

Hey, get in line, okay?

I'm going first.

Okay, fine, Dad, you go first, then Pete can go.

All right, here's what I have.

Grace, you were the only pledge that wasn't buried up to her neck the night the deaf Taylor Swift was decapitated.

And you know that girl, Mandy, who was there that night in the bathtub and then ended up dead at Zayday's haunted house?

Well, no one knew anything about her or where she was for 20 years.

And then when you saw her that night, well, she ended up stabbed to death.

Pete was there, too, and he also wasn't buried with the pledges.

Yes, I know.

Which is why I find this stuff just interesting.

But what's worrisome to me is that I checked the calendar to see which days you did your class visit to Wallace last year.

It was March 24 to the 26th.

Wait a minute, March 25, I know that date.

That's the date that Melanie Dorkus, the former president of Kappa Kappa Tau, was horribly d*sfigured, when someone put acid in her spray tan.

And right before she passed out from the pain, she said that she saw someone in a Red Devil costume standing over her.

Wait, we saw you there that day.

Oh, I remember now.

Chanel: No, please don't do this to me.

Don't you want me to spray-tan you?

I have it all ready.

Melanie: No, Chanel, I would honestly rather not have you around.

(door slams)

CHANEL #5: Who are you and what are you doing here?

Hi.

Wow, are you guys sisters here?

That is so cool.

I'm an incoming freshman, and I was just checking out the campus, and I was desperate to see the inside of this place.

I'm hoping to pledge when I matriculate.

You're skinny and pretty, so that's a plus, but it's highly competitive, so you'd better be rich, too.

Then you guys kicked me out.

Yeah. Good times.

Wes: There is one other thing.

You know how at the beginning of the year, I was always secretly following you so I could just keep an eye on you, make sure you were safe?

# Stalker.

Well, one night I was #Being a Good Father, and I was looking out for you.

I heard you talking to someone, but I couldn't hear what it was about.

And when I peeked around that wall, I almost fainted from what I saw.

Oh, no, Dad, that was Pete. Yeah, that was me.

What?

Okay, we had plans to hand out flyers to see if anyone had any information about the Red Devil, and since Pete already had the costume, we thought it would be a good idea for people to see what he looked like.

Yeah, but we didn't carry through with the plan.

Oh, thick as thieves, you two.

It's amazing how he's Grace's alibi for so many of the horrible murders.

Okay, I-I am now convinced that the m*rder*r is not Nut Bag #3 but is indeed Grace.

No, I am not.

No, no, she's not.

And now I'm sure of it.

Thank you for letting me talk about this, talk this out, and hear your side of the story.

I'm so relieved. Don't talk to me.

Of course she's not the k*ller, Mr. Gardner, and look, I know this is kind of awkward, because I am dating your daughter, and I would really love to get your approval on this, but you, sir, are the Red Devil k*ller.

Chanel, Hester, I'm really sorry about this.

I personally don't think these teams are fair, but honestly, I did warn you, so if this gets super awkward, it's on you.

Good luck.

When next we speak, it will be as adversaries.

Well, just a quick overview of the rules.

You pick a card and then you draw the word on the board using little pictures.

No talking or gesturing, and your team has to guess it before the time runs out.

Brad, why don't you start us off?

Come on, Brad! Come on, Brad!

(cheering, whooping)

Brad! Brad! Brad! Brad! Brad! Brad! Brad!

Come on! You can do this!

(whooping continues)

And... go.

Chad: Uh...

Hester.

Um, homely, ugly.

Gold digger! Not welcome.

Oh, unattractive short person.

Poo belly. Is it poo belly?

I thought you couldn't gesture?

He wasn't gesturing, he was pointing.

Uh, doesn't belong here.

Should have left hours ago.

Um, uh, bird. Turkey.

Bunny: Turkey neck! Neck waddle.

Uh, girl with a weird, big neck.

Chad: Oh, no, um, uh, neck brace! Neck brace!

Ah! Yes!

Tad: Second word, second word.

Bunny: Sounds like...

That's a gesture.

That is a gesture. Oh, shh.

Chad: Bed, bed, uh, bed, bed.

Sounds like bed, uh, sleep.

Uh, dead!

Dead neck brace girl.

Overfed!

Overfed girl with a neck brace.

No, no, too chunky to wear that outfit.

Chad: Uh, uh...

Yeah?

No, no.

Sleeping.

Uh, snore.

Snore, uh, uh, um, um, whore!

Neck brace whore!

(cheering)

Neck brace whore!

I'm sorry, but someone needs to contact the good people at Hasbro, because the odds of you picking neck brace whore are astronomical.

I'm fairly certain this board game's been tampered with.

Chanel, I don't want to be, like, a rules stickler, but teams are not really supposed to be conversing between rounds.

You will not shut me up this time, Chad.

I have something to say.

Hester, I owe you an apology.

Yes, I did push you down the stairs in an attempt to m*rder you and your fake unborn baby.

And while my motivations were airtight and my conscience clear, still, I'm sorry.

You, Chanel #6, are my sister, and that bond is stronger than some silly little attempt on your life.

Thank you.

And furthermore, I'm sorry that you had to sit through the most mean-spirited game of Pictionary in the history of Pictionary.

I mean, no one deserves to be spoken to like that, particularly not by what is, without a doubt, the most awful family in America.

Chad, your leathery excuse for a mother looks like an ostrich-hide clutch from last season that somehow learned to talk.

And, Mr. Radwell, I have never seen anyone spend so much money to make a house look this tacky.

I've honestly seen more tasteful decor at a Sizzler.

And you, Thad, have a bright future ahead of you in the sex offender wing of a supermax prison.

And you, sir, give the kind, hard-working, deeply moral people who work in such a wonderful industry as Hollywood a bad name.

And, Chad Radwell, whatever we had between us is over.

I am walking out that door and never speaking to you again.

You know you say that a lot, right?

Well, consider this coming to my senses, because no woman in her right mind would want anything to do with this family.

So good-bye, Chad. Good-bye forever.

Chanel, wait.

I'm coming with you.

Really?

Yes, yes, yes, all I've ever wanted is to be your sister.

Fine.

Let's hit the road, Number Six.

We're going home.

*** looks good.

***

What'd I miss?

Pete was just about to ruin any chances of marrying Grace by explaining why he thinks her dad is the k*ller.

Pete: Grace, this is really hard for me, but I'm an investigative journalist.

So, like everyone else, I started with a motive.

Yours was easy, sir, 'cause you just keep on repeating it over and over again.

More than anything, you want to keep Grace safe, and as far as you're concerned, the most dangerous thing in her life is Kappa Kappa Tau.

Now, you begged her not to join, but she didn't listen, so you had to find another way to keep her from becoming a sister, and what was the best way to do that? Hmm.

To get Dean Munsch to shut down the house.

And so you started k*lling sisters left and right until she did, but... you didn't count on the small fact that Dean Munsch over here is such a coldhearted bitch.

(chuckling)

Sorry I'm not sorry.

And the body count just kept rising and rising until you finally got her to surrender and shut the place down.

But I could have just pulled her out of school or, hell, even b*rned the house down before I would even consider k*lling people.

Well, you certainly had the inside information to pull it off, at least when it came to Roger and Sam.

See, uh, I was looking over some of Kappa's yearbooks from the time of the bathtub incident, and I came across something both interesting and deeply disturbing.

Your freshman year, Mr. Gardner, Kappa had a special night called the Secret Kappa Tunnel Rager, in which they brought down kegs into the secret Kappa tunnels and they did a huge party.

Well, there's pictures from that night and the party.

Please take a look at who was there.

(gasps)

Oh, wow.

How could such a stud evolve from a boy who was so clearly a douche.

So you're saying if he knew about the tunnel, then he could've snuck into the house the night we were all locked in.

Yeah.

Oh, please, look, I-I was so bombed at that party.

I mean, I remember I puked while I was making out with some girl, but there is no way that I could've found my way back down there 20 minutes later, let alone 20 years.

That wasn't enough for me, either.

So I kept on digging.

See, I couldn't figure out how the bodies in the meat locker just kept disappearing.

So I tapped into the secret cameras Chanel had installed all over the house.

And you, sir, are in the footage.

Grace: Dad, why would you do that?

This is really embarrassing, um, but I started the paleo diet, because I'm back on the dating scene now, and I-I wanted to lose some weight.

But I'm on a teacher's salary, and I can't afford meat, and that freezer, it's got chicken, burgers, ribs, there's whole sides of beef just hanging on hooks, and you girls don't even eat.

So I figured I'd just make sure that none of it went to waste.

So yes, I borrowed some meat.

I'll return it.

I never saw a body down there.

I actually have noticed you leaning out a bit.

You look good.

Paleo diet. It works.

Paleo.

None of that prepared me for what I discovered next.

See, uh, I'm buddies with the county coroner.

Him and my brother used to sell illegal fireworks in high school.

I bribed him with a bag of weed to get some of Boone's hair.

This is the part I'm kind of ashamed of.

Munsch: Wait a minute, there's a part other than bribing a government official with dr*gs so that you can steal the hair of a dead man that you're ashamed of?

Well, I-I kind of snuck into Mr. Gardner's apartment to get some hair from his brush, and I have a friend who works at The Maury Show, and I got him to run a quickie DNA test, and...

I'm sorry to say, Mr. Gardner, but you are the father.

Grace: What? I'm-I'm sorry.

My dad is Boone's father?

Oh, my God. Dad?

Honey, Grace, I swear I had...

I had no idea.

I mean, it's not out of the question.

I-I was a bit of a man slut back in the day, and it was the '90s, so nobody wore condoms.

(scoffs) Trust me.

(whimpers)

Which probably means you're also the father of the other baby in the bathtub.

I'm sorry, Mr. Gardner, but this is what they call an orgy of evidence.

I'm obligated to take it to the police.

Oh, my God.

I didn't know.

I swear.

And if I had, I would've taken responsibility.

Of course you would have.

(sighs)

Pete's not gonna call the police.

I told him that you're my dad and I know you.

I mean, those are my kids out there, k*lling all those people.

Which is why we, more than anyone, have to do everything we can to find them and stop them.

You think you could do it in the moment? Hmm?

Send your brother or your sister off to the chair?

Maybe even k*ll them yourself?

To save my friends or you, yes.

They are my blood, but you and Zayday and even the Chanels, all of the people who I have suffered through all of this with, you are my family.

A highly dysfunctional family, but... still.

(chuckles)

Come here.

(sighs)

(sighs)

What about everyone else?

I mean, there are some pretty compelling cases being made that someone down there is the k*ller.

Which is why no one is going to the police about any of it.

And all tonight did was prove that at this point, it could be anyone, except you and me, of course.

Oh, no, totally, totally. Yeah.

Five minutes to turkey time.

I just checked the timer personally.

Good.

And then Chad's dad offered me $50,000 to leave and never come back.

That's amazing.

What are you gonna do with the money?

I didn't take the money, idiot.

Um, okay, well, you already left, so, basically, you're out $50,000 for no reason.

Chanel #3 and I are thrilled to announce that Tiburon is ready to be served.

Uh, Chanel, would you at least please give the illusion of trying to help?

Okay, first of all, I experienced extreme emotional trauma this evening, and second, I'm the one delegating tasks, thank you very much.

It's the most important job there is.

Plus, I'm saving my energy for Black Friday doorbusters tomorrow morning.

Um, ladies, excuse me, please.

I'm gonna go freshen up.

What took you so long?

I couldn't find any matches.

I thought there'd be some in Jennifer's room, but I ended up finding this in the downstairs bathroom.

And what happened to you?

I was sharpening this Kn*fe.

I couldn't find Ms. Bean's carver, but this one is definitely sharp enough to glide easily through roasted flesh.

What a weird way to put that.

Chanel: Oh, great, it's you two.

You're gonna make fabulous dinner guests now that you found out you fathered a bastard m*rder*r, who's your sibling.

As you can imagine, it's been sort of a heavy day for me.

So if you wouldn't mind, I would love for us all to have a quiet, uneventful Thanksgiving. Thank you.

(sighs)

Come on, let's bring in Tiburon.

Oh, Weston, is your crazy girlfriend attending?

Because if so, I need to set a place for her.

No, no, because I have no idea where Gigi is.

(gasps)

Chad?

You haven't eaten yet, have you? I knew it!

You've come back. You've chosen me over your awful family.

Hold up.

First of all, my family is awesome. How dare you?

And second, yeah, I did come back, but it's only because I knew you'd have turkey here, so I thought I'd get my turkey on with you.

I'm sorry I said that.

What's up, guys?

You know, I really thought this bird would be a lot heavier.

Dean Munsch, you must have really overcooked the turkey.

(scoffs) Oh, that's nonsense.

Tiburon is perfectly cooked.

Okay, I hope everyone's hungry because I, for one, am overjoyed at this.

I mean, look, it's our first Kappa Thanksgiving.

So, without further ado, dinner is served.

(screaming)