"A. Little: Devious" is the 6th episode of A Little Devious, as well as its series finale.
The time has come to settle the truth once and for all: does Aliza Little really always get her man? With Celeste Grier constantly enlisting assassins against her, the clock is ticking to make sense of all the new evidence and unveil the whole truth behind Henry Washington's death. But, such a feat may prove impossible now that Kathryn Kappelletti has our heroin at gunpoint, hoping to worm her way back into her mother's inner-circle - is it too late for Kathryn to make a heel-face turn and choose goodness over riches? Is it too late, also, for Aliza herself to solve this case, meaning it would be down to Mike to piece everything together; and, while he's an excellent detective, he has a personal and moral dilemma of his own to grapple with in the wake of all the revelations surrounding his father. Meanwhile, Silvia and Sadie scheme to take down Michelle, who in turn schemes to take down her husband's whore, and, spoiler alert, Shaniqua Mae has hemorrhoids and Antwon's still dead. Something something something devious.
A little Aliza Little sleeps soundly in her family's old shack on the outskirts of Wikerly Hills... that is, until her eyes pop open, and she's sure that everyone else in the house is asleep, because it's been a while now since she noticed the particularly large star in the sky - the one which illuminates the WIKERLY HILLS sign so beautifully in that rich distance - and she needs to jump on that while she still has the chance. Meaning, she hops out of bed, as quiet as she's able, and crawls on over to her window, which she opens on up to grant herself a proper view. Kneeling there, her hands clasped together, she starts to wish; or pray: "Dear God. I know you're busy and all... probably too busy to help someone like me... but I figure, since you're everywhere and all, it can't hurt to ask just a few teeny tiny favors... just in case. So, here goes. If me and my family could afford a nicer house, that'd be great... I'd love to live closer to that sign one day. And if mama and daddy didn't have to work so much. And I also kinda want a new bike, and a better brother, and an unlimited supply of Kool Aid. So, whenever you get the chance, I guess..." She then takes a large breath, and adds, "Okay, so that's the small stuff. Now for one, real kinda big thing. If you did this for me, you could forget about all that other stuff, and I wouldn't even care... and I'd never ask you for anything else ever again, ever. See... daddy's real sick. He ain't got no hair on his head no more. Mama keeps tellin' Manny 'n' me not to worry but... I 'on't think he's gonna be okay." She starts to tear up. "I can tell. So... if you could help him get better... keep him strong, like a panther... I'd be grateful forever and ever and ever, and I swear I would spend the rest of ma' life helpin' people, and... and..." "Hey, baby girl, what you doin' up?" asks the cancer-riddled Rowan Little, scarf over his head, as he peers into his daughter's bedroom having overheard her prayers. "I ain't up, I'm... sleepwalkin'. Do naht wake," Aliza tries, and Rowan chuckles, telling her, "Nice try. Come on, get back to bed, I'll tuck you in again." With that, she sighs and moves back over to her bed, and Rowan goes to shut the window she's left open. As he does so, he notices the particularly bright star in the sky, and turns to his daughter to ask, "You makin' a wish, li'l panther?" Aliza nods as she re-drapes the covers over herself, and Rowan nods as he tucks her in and sits down on her bed, responding, "I been doin' a lotta that myself lately." "What do you wish for, daddy?" the young girl is curious to know, and he shrugs, "That you and your Mama and your brother are gon' be alright." "We will be if we got you," Aliza assures, "If God ain't feelin' too lazy, and--" "Shhh," Rowan tries, kissing his daughter on the forehead, already worrying about all this himself. "You don't gotta bother God on my behalf, baby," he assures, but she tells him, "I gotta. I got so much to say, and..." "Try writin' it down," Rowan suggests, "Before lights out, so you ain't wakin' errybody up in the middle of the night, hmm?" "I'm sorry, daddy..." she says sadly, but he assures her it's okay. "Will you read me another fairy story?" she wonders, "I'm still so wide awake." Rowan sighs a content sigh, and figures, "Sure. Then first thing tomorrow... I'll get you a brand new diary to start writin' your thoughts down in."
When Rowan is done reading his little girl a fairy story, and she's drifted soundly to sleep, he leaves her room but soon returns with his old war medal in tow, placing it down beside her nightlight and wishing her to have brave and inspiring dreams.
We see Aliza in her office writing this, that same war medal sitting proudly nearby, not long before she's due to head out to sea. And from there, we backtrack, to her fighting off dykes; her going undercover as a whore; her falling over the Washingtons' garden wall; her cuffing Ryan Shapiro on that helipad; her helping get Kathryn Kappelletti into position in order for the devious butlers to take her down; her many escapades on Fanon Drive before she started solving crime, until...
I just can't have imagined that this is where I was gonna end up back when I first arrived in this place.
Which is where we're taken. All the way back to the summer of 2016, where the first of two Howell's Rent-a-Trucks is seen parked outside the Littles' freshly purchased home - before Manny has even had the chance to paint it that vile color we've all grown accustomed to seeing. "Well... this is it," says Rochelle Little as she descends from the back of her truck in her wheelchair, rolling out onto the curb of Fanon Drive. "Yeah, I know," Aliza nods, meeting her mother there on the pavement, "We saw it last night when we--" "Gurl, shush!" Rochelle exclaims, looking around to make sure no one's listening, because she doesn't exactly want the world to know that she, her daughter and her son already visited in the middle of the night in order to stash a body up in the attic. "Oh, right, right - it's a secret," Aliza nods absentmindedly, scraping some dirt out from under her leopard-print acrylic, before casually asking her mother, "You think that attic would be a good place to stash the weed I got from pawnin' Antwon's ring?" Rochelle slaps her hand against her face, reversing her wheelchair slightly in order to murmur, "Dear Lord, I've raised morons," and Aliza laughs, "I'll say. Manny was so retarded for joinin' them Black Lives Matter folk and attractin' the goddamn K--" "I SAID SHUSH!" Rochelle screeches, and she starts to panic when the door to the next mansion along opens up, and someone steps out with suspicion etched all over their face - a brawny, poorly-dressed, blue-haired someone of no specific gender (or so ze would have you believe). "Did somebody say Black Lives Matter?" asks Selena James Washington, then getting a good and proper look at the two people who stand before her and licking her lips at the fact that, "You guys have such... little privilege." They appear thunderstruck, while she eyes up the moving truck and realizes, "You could be my neighbors? Oh, well I'm defo gonna buy this house now! I was just inside negotiating with the realtor - he wanted me to pay with money, but, I was like, excuse me, my money goes towards paying reparations to folks like yourself, since we kept you in in chains and all - warn me if I'm triggering you - and it already took so long to find a realtor that wasn't a cis male, like, I can't believe he was dragging on the contracts for that amount of time after all that but, yeah, I'm pretty much in love with you guys so I'mma head back in, wait for him to cop a feel, and then threaten to sue until the lease is mine - kinda my thing," she winks. "Are you... human?" Aliza feels the need to ask, and Selena chuckles, "Of course I am! We're all just skeletons underneath, right? Like, if I had my way, there'd be no skin or gender and we'd all just be walking bones - oh, but that might trigger people with eating disorders, and I wouldn't want that, since--" "You're such a fat bitch?" Rochelle asks brazenly, and Selena stares at her, dumbstruck and entirely offended, but unable to process it because, well, Rochelle is like an anti-privilege guru. And so she just says, "Thank you. I'm sorry for the life you must have led. So, so sorry." She gets down on one knee and bows her head, and Rochelle yells, "Gurl, get on up!" "G-girl?" Selena asks, looking up, and Aliza sighs, figuring, "She and Manny ought to get on great." "Manny?" Selena questions, returning to her feet, "Wh...who's that? Is there a Womanny?" "Manny ma' lunkhead brotha," Aliza reveals, "He on the other truck, 'cause o' course he is." "Your attempt at our vernacular is so brave," Selena almost weeps, and Aliza looks about ready to throw the bitch to the curb when, "Bonjoooouuuurr!!!" Justine Dussault has just arrived on the scene from across the street, and Selena takes a step back, needing time to assimilate the standard of Aryan feminine beauty which has just appeared before her (Hitler would honestly love the way Justine looks, so long as she never opened her mouth). "Je m'appelle Justine. I regarded un truck for the movings from in across my window, where I be scrubbing the dishes, and I do the wonderings if yet you has a maid, pour mon beh eef eef Juanita wants the works real badly, and she's such good, she--" "Mama, what the hell kind of cartoon-ass town have you hauled us all the way from New Chicago to come join? I feels like I'm in the middle of bizarro world." "Ah, Wikerly Hills," Rochelle remembers semi-fondly, "Place o' goddamn nightmares." She takes something from out of the truck and begins wheeling towards her new home, placing the MLK lawn gnome down on the grass and deeming it perfect, though the place could do with a fresh coat of paint... and a ramp, she comes to realize, when she almost stands up out of her chair in order to ascend the porch steps but stops herself in the nick of time. "So," Justine goes on, too busy looking at her own reflection in the moving truck's side-mirror to notice the fact that one of the people she's talking to has just wheeled away, "I drop you Juanita résumé, et perhaps one of my owns since I'm not stranger to lighting up the moon, and we clean your house, make sure everything stays, how you say, blanche." "That is naht how we say that," Aliza assures, "And I 'on't think my Mama's really lookin' for a maid... and if we gon' have somebody cleanin', I think I'mma push for a butler... in fact, now that you've put the seed in ma' head, I'mma defo try 'n' convince ma' Mama to hire a butler - thanks, French chick!" "Non! Non merci pour noire!" "Excuse you?" Aliza steps back, and Justine rages, "Maids no good enough? This is why peoples like Jose Sanchez do the dying! Parce que people like you are too busy being... being..." she looks Aliza up and down, "whorested, to appreciate us!" "The fuck did you just call me?!" Aliza squares up to her. "Aliza, don't be gettin' into a scrap your firs' damn day on the street!" Rochelle rolls back over. "Listen to your grandmother," Selena steps back onto the scene, "She holds a lot of wisdom from her years being oppressed." "The fuck--" Rochelle begins herself, but Selena interrupts her to announce, "He totally copped a feel, by the way! I'm getting the house! Oh, I'm so excited... of course, I'm going campaigning for Hillary until November, and totally not blowing up any churches, so you're not gonna see me until then, but... oh girl I just can't wait until we're neighbors!" "I sure as shit can," Aliza comments, and Justine spits, "Kanye el presidenté come later four years, I will not have un chienne Kim Kardashian, hater of ma bae Tay-Tay, living up the Wing of the West." "My uncle Henry is a politician," Selena reveals proudly, "Well, I mean, he isn't, but I keep telling him he should be because he's a white male and so actually has a chance of winning, and then I could be like the puppeteer behind the scenes making him actually fix the problems that people have, like pronoun misuse. But he keeps being all over your dead body am I becoming a politician so I guess it might never happen since obviously Goddess owes me way too much to kill me off. He lives here in Wikerly, though. Part of the reason I moved out here, since family is important. My own father mother always said that right before they killed itself after seeing me for the first time post-birth - so, I guess they only said it the once, but still..." "Jesus Christ, I stopped listenin' after 'Kim Kardashian'," Aliza notes, "And it weren't even yo' mutated ass what done said it." It's then that Justine announces, "Talking of, Kim Kardashian wannabe who is boss of mine's friend at the twelfth o'clocks. Last advice of mine before never speaking you again - avoid this bitch." And, with that, Justine hurries off back to the Davis house across the street, meaning Aliza and Rochelle both turn around to see who she was talking about: Kathryn Kappelletti has just walked onto Fanon Drive. "Oh, my God!" her jaw drops as she sees the Littles for the first time, removing her sunglasses (Selena faints from all the privilege she exudes from every pore of her body, for this is Kathryn at the absolute height of her wealth, fame and power), and she adds, "Are rich people allowed to have slaves again?!" However, as she gets a look at Rochelle, she realizes, "Oh, you wouldn't be very good on your hands and knees... I'm gonna forget I ever saw you, to be honest, your very existence is very depressing." "And just who the hell do you think you are?" Rochelle demands, but Kathryn yawns in response, kicking over the MLK lawn gnome so that Rochelle will have to wheel herself back over the grass and pick it up. "If I ever see her ass again, it's gettin' beat, chair or no chair," she decides, "Unless o' course there's some other rich bitch in this neighborhood who needs it more." "I'm on my way to see Elizabeth Davis, she's kinda my best friend," Kathryn reveals to Aliza, who stands there and says, "Good for you?" "Right?" Kathryn beams, "Anyway, all the houses on this street kinda look the same to me - I'm sure you're used to that concept - so if you could point me in the right direction?" "Elizabeth Davis lives across the street," Aliza reveals, pointing with her best leopard-printed finger, "I know 'cause she's married to mah fave cousin Eli. In fact, there he is now. Hey, Eli! What up!" Eli is sitting on the front porch, reading or some shit, despite the fact that he's meant to be in Rome at this point in the story. In fact, let's say he's appearing via laptop which is resting on the porch, because Justine decided to Skypé with her fave boss. Yeah, that. He waves to his favorite cousin in turn, and goes to shout something back; however, Justine turns on the vacuum at that point and drowns out his voice. "Haha," says Aliza, "He's so chatty. But yeah, daz Liz's gaffe, I believe." "Come to think of it, she might still be on her two-episode timeout for that unaddressed rape," Kathryn ponders, "But anyway, it was nice meeting you..." "Aliza," Aliza reveals. "Generic Black Chick. Got it." "And you are?" Aliza asks, to which Kathryn smiles and says, "Honey, as if you don't know. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go flirt with my best friend's husband before he flies back to Italy on his magic do-rag. Oh, wait, that's a laptop. Still. Ciao." With that, she wanders across the street, and Aliza finds herself saying, "Wow. I sure hope I don't gotta stay in this place for too long. And I double hope I don't ever gotta see that bitch again..."
Aliza remains standing on the beach, slowly raising her hands into the air as Kathryn holds her at gunpoint. "Are you really gonna do this, Kathryn?" Aliza asks, and Kathryn sighs, her grip on the gun refusing to loosen. "I said I was sorry, Aliza," she reminds, "See, I told you I bothered to learn your name. You're special..." "Then why the hell you got a gun in my face, you dumb slag!" the Chief of Police demands, and Kathryn utters, "I 'on't know," before clearing her throat and repeating, "I don't know. My mother wants this done is all... and when it is, I'll get my old life back. Or at least some semblance of it. So, here goes nothing..." "Kathryn..." Aliza begins to beg, and Kathryn amends, "Here goes something, I mean. You are special, after all, but think of how much more special you'll be when you're dead. You'll get, like, a cult following and shit. Inspire little black girls, like Shaniqua's kids. This is good for the world. This is--" "Don't do this," a tear leaks from Aliza's eye, but Kathryn's finger is already bearing down on the trigger, about to pull it, about to splatter Aliza Little's brains all over the sand; Aliza closes her eyes, preparing for the end, preparing to head to the same place as Antwon and Rochelle and Manny when... caw caw!! A seagull has just swooped on down and start to rape Kathryn's face, causing her to scream and drop the gun clumsily onto the beach floor as she flails her arms around in order to bat it off. She did predict one of those damn birds would be her undoing in the end, after all. Aliza is amazed and baffled by this rather ridiculous display, but doesn't spend too long fawning over it because now is her chance to grab the gun and turn the tables. She picks it up, blows away the sand, and aims it at Kathryn, completely turning around their former situation... apart from the fact that Kathryn has just been floored by a seagull, and is now writhing around on the beach trying to get it off her her very last ratchet extensions. Bored by this, Aliza shoots the damn bird and causes its blood to splatter all over the formerly rich bitch, and she gives one last screech as she comes to realize that her red polyester jacket is... well, not ruined, because you can't even see the stains; but it's, like, wetter, and that makes her cry. Aliza rolls her eyes, cocking the gun some in order to shut her up - just like Antwon did to Mike mere hours ago - and Kathryn ceases her whining in order to sit up on the sand, the dead seagull rolling off of her maid's uniform, and stare up at the barrel of the gun that she herself had intended to use. "Now," Aliza commands, "I ain't gonna arrest yo' ass - big shocker, I know." "Oh, thank you, bestie!" Kathryn clasps her hands together, "Your mercy knows no--" "Shut up!" Aliza cocks the gun again, "I ain't arrestin' yo' ass because I needa use you if I got any chance o' takin' down Celeste motherfuckin' Grier. Do you have any idea how hard it is to solve a murder mystery when some bony white bitch keeps stickin' assassins on yo' twat? Dayum." "I don't understand..." Kathryn utters, and Aliza sighs, "Bitch, I'm gonna give you one. Final. Chance. To do the right thing, and be good, and not do anything illegal... if you help me take down that Mental Madame Mama o' yours... deal?" "D-deal," Kathryn weeps, getting up off the ground, and Aliza lowers the gun. "Now come with me," she orders. However, Kathryn turns around, intending to run the other way, only to have the Chief of Police punch her in the head before she can get a step in. She eats raw seagull as she falls back down to the ground, and Aliza rolls her eyes - "Just come with me, you dumb cunt. And maybe, just maybe, I can find out who the fuck killed Henry Washington on top o' all dis other shit."
But Jesus-fuck-me-in-the-ass if I ain't still needed here.
A LITTLE DEVIOUS
"Ah, finished!" Wilma Winters exclaims, looking up at the fully completed, remodeled Winters' mansion where we see it looks just as it once did three years prior. The construction workers are seen packing up preparing to leave, and Wilma just admires the view, the place where she'll get to live out the rest of her days. "Suck it, Joanna," she says, giving a middle finger to the sky but then to the ground because the truthfully believes her sister-in-law to be burning in hell. With that, she marches inside, closing the door behind her.
Just as another door opens, several houses down where Aliza Little and Kathryn Kappelletti are in the downstairs bathroom of the former's home. Aliza's just opened up the door, hoping to clear out some of the stench Kathryn has created by profusely vomiting in and all over the toilet. "Y'know you don't have to be in here with me. I'm a big girl and can handle it on my own," Kathryn exclaims in between hurls, but Aliza shakes her head, "And risk yo cracka ass tryna jump out ma window and get away or some shit? I 'on't think so." After a few more vomits, Kathryn flushes the toilet and gets up to wipe her face and wash her hands; she completely ignores the mess she left behind on the seat, deeming that to be an Aliza problem, and the two ladies head out of the bathroom and over to Aliza's office. "Now what do you know about yo mama's security?" "Uhh, well there's a lot," Kathryn answers, but Aliza wants specific numbers. "Ten? Twenty? A hundred? What, bitch?" "I don't know!" Kathryn cries, "This was the first time I saw her in years. I don't know anything!" "Typical..." Realizing that Kathryn is a lost cause, for now, she takes out her phone and rings up Mike, back over at the precinct. "Uh, hey," he answers awkwardly, to which Aliza responds with an even more awkward "Hi." There's a moment of silence, but Aliza snaps out of it, finally asking Mike how he's doing. "I'm alright," he says, "It's good to be back behind a desk where I belong, though I think I'm done here..." "Oh..." Aliza answers, surprised, but looks back at Kathryn and realizes that now is not the time to press on that, "Well I've got a new lead of sorts. Um, it's Kathryn... Apparently she's Celeste's daughter." "Oh, wow... I guess that makes sense." "Nah, boy, don't be so third season." "K... Anyway," Mike moves forward, "it's a good thing you called, actually." Aliza lights up some at this, but is let down when Mike finishes, "I'm here talking with the coroner now." "Oh, okay..." she says, having hoped for him to say something else, "Well, has the evidence been processed then? Has she come up with something?" We see that, at the precinct, Mike is with Joy Dameron now, scanning over her notes. "Apparently there's some weird substance in the cocaine that the lab is working on identifying now. Also, there were traces of nail polish on the note, from Celeste Grier's fashion brand of cosmetics." "Then I imagine Celeste got something to do with the torn note," Aliza deduces, "as well as them drugs." "I would think so," Mike responds, and Aliza states that they really need to find the rest of that note. "And to do that, we need to find Celeste." "Got any ideas then?" Mike wonders, and to which Aliza responds that she's got one that could work. "I'll call you back later," she tells him, hanging up before Mike can get another word in, and she then turns to Kathryn. "You're about to make a phone call," she says to the dumbass blonde, who's busy trying to tuck in her muffin top, and the Chief of Police motions that she get out her phone. "But I'm almost out of min--" "Get the damn phone out!" Aliza demands and, fearing the worst, Kathryn does as told. "Now you're gonna call mama dearest and you're gonna put on the best acting performance of yo career. You ring her up and you tell her I'm deader than a dead thing." Hesitantly, Kathryn does as told, getting out her phone and dialing Celeste. After a moment of waiting, Aliza staring Kathryn down all the while, Celeste picks up on the other line. "Mother?" Kathryn exclaims, "It's done." Aliza nods at Kathryn in approval, ready to move forward with her plan.
In the meantime, Silvia has made lunch plans with Tyson down at the disabled folks' home, sat across from him at a cafeteria table. Two nurses arrive with plates of food, ready to serve the mother and son-esque couple, but Silvia shakes her head, dismissing them and insisting that she's got it from here. With that, she lifts her pocketbook onto the table where she proceeds to pull out a whole ass fried chicken, wrapped in aluminum foil on a plate from back home. The two nurses look at one another awkwardly but decide to not argue this. They leave, and Silvia and Tyson are left to feast. "Oooh, yummy!" Tyson grins, licking his lips, and reaching out to pull off a drumstick to nom on. Silvia watches this oh-so contently for a minute, giving a light smile at the thought of him eating like a black person, but it's this thought that then causes her to frown. Black people. Well, one in particular. Tyson eventually looks up, having sucked the drumstick clean, and notices there to be something wrong. "What is it?" he asks, "Oh, did you want us to say grace first?" "No, no," Silvia assures, "it's not that." "Then what is it?" Tyson genuinely wants to know, not liking seeing Silvia all down. "Well, to tell you the truth, lately there's been a woman I've not gotten along the best with. We've been going at it for a while now, since Henry di-- moved on to a better place." "Has she hurt you?" Tyson wonders, nervously, but Silvia assures him not to worry for she can hold her own; in the meantime she's having flashbacks to the pool incident at Henry's wake. "Anyways, as it turns out, there's another woman who doesn't get along with the same woman I don't get along with. Now this one, she's nice, from what I can tell. We've always gotten along, and now she... well, she wants to team up with me to take this other woman down." "What's with all this pitting women against each other?" Tyson inquires, pointing out, "Doesn't seem to be delivering the best message." "Ah, but the powers that be are two very sick and twisted souls, my dear boy. You'll do best accepting that." Tyson doesn't really understand what Silvia means by this but decides to go along with it anyway, and Silvia steers things back around to her moral dilemma. "I really just don't know what I should do. Am I a fan of Michelle? Of course not. But to go as far as teaming up with someone to ruin her life... I'm not sure I can do that." "You shouldn't do that," Tyson states, rather bluntly, "That's a very mean thing to do. You two should be making up. I d'know how, but all this drama's got to stop." "I'm not entirely sure that it can," Silvia admits, but Tyson gives her a stern look, as if to say that she better find a way. "Remember, Joe wouldn't want you stirring up trouble." This is a statement that actually does hit Silvia, for Tyson's right. Before she parted ways with her biological son, she had reformed. She was doing good, and had vowed to spend the rest of her life doing good to make up for all the bad. "I suppose you're right," Silvia agrees with Tyson, and the two each continue to have some more chicken.
But, a good amount of time later and Silvia's getting ready to leave the institution. We see her as she's just seen off Tyson, and she makes her way to the lobby when she's met with a surprise. There, waiting, is none other than Michelle Washington herself. "What the...?" she exclaims, and Michelle gives but the hint of a smile. "I thought I'd find you here," she says to Silvia, putting down a magazine and standing up from the chair she was sat waiting in. "How did you--" "As if you'd have anywhere else to be. I saw your car wasn't in your driveway, so I figured you were off seeing the one person giving you the time of day, not that he really has a choice since he's stuck here, poor thing." "Michelle, now is not--" But again, Silvia is cut off. "It's funny how you rarely show up at the country club, always just cooped up in your house trying to perfect your new 'thing'. Huh, 'your' house. When I say that I really mean my niece's house." "I beg your pardon?" "Why, Selena, of course. You knew that." "Yes, and what does that have to do with anything?" "Well, dear, your entire inheritance comes from the Washingtons. I did some research, made a couple phone calls... Few lawyers from now, and I can take everything away from you. You don't have that strong a claim to Selena's fortune, and until now the Washingtons have all chosen to overlook that." "What is it that you want from me?" Silvia asks, growing extremely fed-up now, and Michelle's smile spreads. "You're gonna pack your bags and get the hell out of this town. Never return. I'm over this whole back-and-forth with you, but if you think I'm still not going to come out of this the victor then you're quite mistaken." "Michelle, you don't wanna do this," Silvia assures, but Michelle chooses to ignore her. "You have twenty-four hours to make any arrangements necessary, but I expect you gone no later than this time tomorrow. Goodbye, Silvia." And so, Michelle leaves, and as far as Silvia's concerned, all bets are off. She pulls out her phone and immediately dials a number, looking back up to watch as Michelle cockily walks off. After waiting a moment, someone picks up on the line and Silvia says to them: "Yes, Sadie, hi. It's Silvia... Let's take that bitch down."
"So you don't know anything about where your mother might've stashed things in her old base? What she brought with her to the new one?" "I already told you," Kathryn whines to Aliza as the two of them leave the latter's house, "I've been out of my mother's inner-circle for years. I didn't even know that she'd started up this whole druggie whore business or whatever it is until, like, yesterday. I thought she just got rich off starting a modelling company." "So you're useless," Aliza sighs, and Kathryn begins to panic, exclaiming, "Please don't arrest me! I-I can be of use... I can help you, um, get rid of this town's... rape problem." "This town doesn't have a rape problem," Aliza says, confused, then adding, "Anymore." "Well gimme a couple hours to start taking advantage of some lowly potential sugar daddies and then I'll help you curb the problem right away. By, you know, stopping." "I'm surprised getting knocked up by a sugar daddy wasn't one o' yo' ridiculous get-rich-quick schemes, to be honest," Aliza jokes, and Kathryn responds, "Haha, yeah," before rubbing her stomach some, a thought occurring to her. "So," she adds, "Rape, yay or nay?" "Relax, I ain't arrestin' you," Aliza promises, and Kathryn sighs with relief. "You are useful," the Chief amends, "Just... not in the informational sense. I just need to crack open someone else who knows about Celeste and her business." "Ooh, Shaniqua Mae?" Kathryn suggests, but Aliza scoffs, "Naw. Celeste won't have trusted her druggie ass with nuffin' important. Besides, she'd be surrounded by the kids, and I 'on't--" she stops, as if suddenly remembering the fact that Antwon's dead and his children have been left half-orphaned. "Aliza?" Kathryn questions, causing the Chief to snap out of it, and Aliza realizes, "Right. I just don't wanna deal with Shaniqua right now." "But my mother's business is kept all very hush-hush," Kathryn is aware, "It's not like anyone who works for her ever gets arrested - no offense, I know now you're a good cop - it's just..." "You're wrong," Aliza suddenly utters. "I've literally never been told that before," Kathryn responds, "And, if I have, I didn't listen. Just like I'm not listening now. Remember when I was engaged to Eli?" "There is someone who worked for her who I arrested... at least, I think he did. I'mma have to love you leave ya'. Don't try wandering off back to yo' momma 'cause I'll know." "Right, the tracking chip," Kathryn nods, "Gotta remember to slit my wrists at some point." "You sure do," Aliza nods, "Meet me back at the precinct at noon. Sharp." "Is the precinct like a police station?" Kathryn wonders, and Aliza blinks, "Yes... yes, the police station." "M'kay," Kathryn nods, "And noon is--" "When your shadow is at its biggest," Aliza slow-walks the moron, then muttering under her breath, "Though it's been looking pretty big lately anyway." "Cool," Kathryn decides, "I gotta go to the drug store anyway, so, see ya when I see ya." She begins walking off, and Aliza calls after her, "Noon, bitch! When both hands of the clock are facing--" however, she just sighs, giving up, certain that Kathryn can't read time and just hoping for the best. "Right," she then says to herself, getting into her car, "I got a criminal to go question." With that, she drives away... and Mike emerges from behind her driveway, commenting, "Hope you don't mean yourself." He accidentally knocks over the MLK lawn gnome; as he bends down to pick it up, he realizes that a spare key was resting underneath it, and figures, "Well, that makes this easier." He uses it to unlock the front door and sneak right into the Chief of Police's phone, Aliza's words from out at sea ringing through his ears: "He... he's in my attic." Nodding affirmatively to himself, he begins to ascend the stairs, all the way to the top floor - where a door exists with no stairs leading up to it, thanks to Aliza having taken a sledgehammer to them years earlier. It's then that we witness the deftness of skill Mike has been hiding away all this time in his stint behind a desk, as he parkours his way up the wall using picture frames and doorknobs and loose nails and picks the lock while balancing there all in one very rather fluid and impressive motion. Soon - an awkward stretch and a jump later - he's standing there in the Littles' attic, which has been completely cleaned out due to Aliza's last ever visit there. That is, of course, save for the trash bags which rest not too far away. Taking a deep breath, Mike approaches them, opening them up to reveal...
He flashes back, to Gabrielle sitting at his bedside, and him begging her to, "Tell me about daddy." She sighs deeply, and promises, for the first time, "Your father... was a great man, Mister. A pillar of the community. A man amongst men." "So, where is he now? How come he can't ever tuck me in?" Another deep sigh, and another deep lie, "Because he died a hero."
...the remains of Nate Ford's skull, now staring at his son in the present day, atop the pile of charred, ashy remains which fill the rest of the trash bag. Mike recoils in horror and disgust, fighting the urge to vomit right there on the attic floor - right where his father's bloodstain once enticed the intrigue of Aliza's last lover. "So that's it then," Mike gathers, standing there, not really knowing what to do, "Mystery solved." And so, he takes out his cell phone and dials. "Michael!" Sebastian exclaims from the other end, "Please tell me you're coming back to the office soon. The place is absolutely swamped without you!" "Is it really?" Mike adds, and Seb admits, "Nah. But your desk is starting to gather dust some and it's grossing me out to look at." "You could try cleaning it," Mike suggests, but Seb says, "What am I? A butler? Heck, maybe if I was I'd solve more cases... as it is, your beloved wooden station looks like someone has sprinkled ashes all over it, and I don't wanna deal with that." "Ashes..." Mike utters solemnly, staring at his father's leftovers, and Seb comes to wonder, "What's up?" "I, um, I did it," Mike reveals. "You found out who killed that mayor guy?" Sebastian wonders, but Mike says, "No, not quite. My father, though. I know who... I know why he disappeared." "Oh," Seb sounds disappointed. "What?" "Nothing," Seb shrugs back at the office, "I was just half-hoping the mayor guy was your father. You know, twist and all." "Trust me, there was a twist," Mike sighs. "So you are coming back then?" Seb would like to clarify, but Mike admits, "I don't know." "Well you gotta log it in, don't ya'? Get down on some files what really happened to your dad. What did happen to your dad? What's the scoop?" "The scoop is..." Mike starts, still staring at the remains... but then around the attic. The attic of the woman he cared deeply about. The attic of the woman who, at heart, he knows this town sorely needs. And so he's at a loss. "I'll get back to you," he eventually decides, and Sebastian finds this a little odd, but ultimately doesn't care because he always found the dad stuff kinda boring and extra anyway. "See you at the office maybe. Don't do anything cool without me." "I just parkoured." "Ugh, you bitch. Anyway, bye. Busy, busy, busy. At least, I'm pretending to be," Sebastian then hangs up, and Michael is left standing in the attic all alone with daddy, finding himself faced by quite the dilemma.
And you know who else is currently facing a dilemma? Shaniqua Mae, deciding whether or not scratch her ear or her vagina, currently feeling an itch in both places. Ultimately she decides to do both at the same time, realizing she has two hands for a reason. We see that she's stood at the cash register of some dingy drug store, having picked up a few shifts in order to support herself and her kids, but mostly herself. "Is that... is that another spider?!" she asks aloud, pulling it out from inside her blood and cum-stained booty shorts. Two of her kids look up, currently snorting crushed up aspirin, and each run over to feast. Shaniqua tosses the spider in the air and the two kids jump for it, going on to fight over it while she prints herself off another scratch ticket, there being a whole trash bin of torn-up ones. This only results in Shaniqua being karate kicked right in the vagina though, as we see, stepping out of the back room is a ten year old Mexicasian boy, evidently one of Juanita Kwon's non-arrested family members. "Oh, come on!" Shaniqua cries, but the non-English speaking child shakes his head, meaning Shaniqua can't be scratching off anymore scratch tickets. With that, the Mexicasian kid returns to the back room where we see there's two other Mexicasian kids, as well as three of Shaniqua's kids. They're all sat at a round table playing a game of cards, speaking to one another in French sign language. According to one of them, Juanita got Kristi pregnant. One of Shaniqua's daughters signs the words "Oh, snap!" Another then flips the table, having caught one of the Mexicasians cheating at the game of cards. Meanwhile, back at the cash register, Shaniqua Mae is bored out of her mind, but this soon changes when Kathryn Kappelletti approaches her. "Hi, um-- oh, it's you," Kathryn realizes upon looking up at Shaniqua, who arches a brow. "The fuck you doin' here?" she asks, to which Kathryn reveals, "I, uh... Well, I'm late, so..." "Yo ass knocked up, huh?" Shaniqua deduces, but Kathryn points out that nothing's confirmed yet. "And, quite frankly, it should be impossible. I'm doing this just in case, so... can you direct me to the aisle the tests are in?" "Oh, hun, I 'on't fuckin' know. Here, just use one o' mine," Shaniqua says, pulling one out from underneath her armpit, "I just keep 'em on me cos yeah." Kathryn looks around, seeing a handful of Shaniqua's children running about, one of them mistaking cough syrup for fruit punch... unless they're mistaking fruit punch for cough syrup? Who knows. "Uh, well, thanks..." Kathryn utters, taking the test, "Oh, and before I forget, because I probably will... Sorry about Antwon." "What you talkin' bout?!" Shaniqua's eyes widen, and Kathryn realizes, "No one told you?" Shaniqua shakes her head, recounting that the last time she saw him was when he left for sea with Aliza and Mike. "Yeah, well, he... he died," Kathryn utters, and a look of complete and utter shock and dismay comes across Shaniqua's face. "Bitch, you lyin'!" she cries, but Kathryn shakes her head. "I'm sorry," she says to the grieving negro, "Believe it or not, I too had some fond memories with Antwon." This is true, for the record.
We flash back to the night Kathryn "confessed" to killing Henry Washington, currently handcuffed in the interrogation room while Aliza and Mike chat outside. She's with Antwon, who Aliza sent in to comfort Kathryn, and he's doing that in the way he knows best. Kathryn, still having her hands handcuffed to the table, is stood up and leaning over as Antwon currently pounds in and out of her back door. They breathe heavily, moaning and groaning, this being quite the experience. "To think," Kathryn utters between moans, "Eli made me think your breed's capabilities were a myth!" Antwon only pounds harder though, and Kathryn loves every minute of it.
"Anyways, I guess I'll go take this now," Kathryn says in regards to the test, and Shaniqua directs her to where the restrooms are. "I been usin' the men's room lately," Shaniqua reveals, "Them urinal cakes? Delicious." Kathryn looks indignant this, but has other things to worry about than bitching Shaniqua out for being her normal ratchet ass self. Anyways, she heads off for the women's restroom and goes into a stall. About ten minutes go by, and Shaniqua is still chilling at the cash register, now trying one of every kind of flavored gum in hopes of making the ultimate bubblegum bubble. She begins to blow out, a huge pink and blue and green and purple colored bubble being formed, near the size of her face, it pops all over her due to her being startled by a loud scream emanating from the restroom. "Goddammit!" Kathryn Kappelletti cries, "I'm gonna have a fucking abortion!"
A prison guard finishes patting down Aliza, a little roughly, and smacks her on the ass as she's ready to head on into the visitor's room of Wikerly Hills' male high security facility. "Damn," she comments, rubbing her ass some, "I'd file an injunction or some shit if that din't feel so great." There's a buzz, and the door opens up, meaning she's allowed to take a seat on the row in front of the glass, and pick up a phone, waiting for the man she's there to see to emerge. Eventually, Ryan Shapiro sits down on the glass' opposite side, picking up his phone also, and the Chief of Police greets him with a, "Yello, stranger," and adds, "Here I thought you'd never call me back after our first date." Ryan ignores this. "I couldn't believe you wanted to come see me," he admits, "Figured you'd wanna save your energy for the trial. You here to offer me a plea bargain or something?" "Oh, God no," Aliza makes clear, "Hunni, you're stayin' in here to rot for the rest o' yo' miserable, murderous life. That's just a fact." "Right..." Ryan utters, "So you're here for... what then? Conjugal visit?" "Over my dead body," Aliza spits, and Ryan tells her, "I sure wish." She sighs, wondering if perhaps this was a mistake, but decides to press on in spite of herself, telling him, "I need info. About Celeste Grier." Ryan pauses for a moment, nearly dropping the phone, and eventually replies by asking, "Who's Celeste Grier?" "Oh, don't waste both our time playin' dumb, boy. We both know you worked for her. I figured it out on the fly. I'm good like dat." "Okay," the prisoner shrugs, "say I was working for her. Why in the hell would I tell you anything? She can have me hanged in my cell for even talking to you..." He sounds genuinely worried for a moment, and Aliza promises, "If I take her down, you'll be safe. I just need a li'l bit of help." "And if I refuse?" Ryan questions, to which Aliza says, "By all means, hunker on back to yo' cell and continue bein' a lowlife. And I might jus' have to let slip to a few select prisoners that you murdered a girl in cold-ass blood. See, even criminals have standards, and people who did the kinda thing you did... they ain't too popular, to the right crowd. Just ask Juan Castillo. I trust you seen him around?" Ryan doesn't respond, because he can't bring himself too; yes, he has seen Juan around - that broken shell of a human being - and he can't imagine anything worse than suffering the same fate. "I mean, if you want my next prison call to be Randy McRape-Yo-Ass--" "No!" Ryan breaks his silence, and Aliza's cool expression curls into a victorious smile - not unlike the one she had when she arrested this punk way back when, on that helipad. "So," she traffics on, "you'd have spent a lot of time in that old office of hers, and I need to know if there's a certain something she may have left behind. But I also need to know where to look, because the clock is ticking." "I... don't think I can help you," Ryan admits, at which Aliza turns to the guard who smacked her ass - who she just now realizes was a woman - and asks, "Yo, is Randy up for a chat?" However, Ryan suddenly exclaims, "Wait! Wait, wait! I do remember something. Something, yes. From a meeting I had with her, ages ago, in her office..."
With that, we flash back to Ryan sitting opposite Celeste, who's just had him light her cigarette as a test of loyalty and proceeds to blow smoke all around that old office of hers; the one which, in the present, she was forced to abandon. "So glad Quinnson was able to get you off for that pesky drug charge, Mr. Shapiro," Celeste comments, "There may be hope for that Shaniqua Mae yet. I trust all your loose threads are tied up, no one to connect you to your crimes?" "Well, one girl," Ryan admits, referring to Roni (his future murder victim), "But I think I know how to deal with her if she gets too out of hand. Don't worry." "Excellent," Celeste smiles, blowing smoke directly into his face because she honestly couldn't give less of a shit, "We should celebrate. Coffee, perhaps? I just had imported the finest range of Colombian beans." "Sure," Ryan shrugs, "I could go for some coffee." Celeste nods, and then shouts, "Houseboy! Haul in the brown stuff, and bring the coffee too." It isn't long before one of her African American butlers enters the room, a tray in tow with two cups, along with milk, cream, sugar and what have you on the side. He places it on the center of the desk, bows, and doesn't say another word before exiting the room. "Forgot to include an ashtray," Celeste sighs, throwing her cigarette into the trash can, "I'll have to remember to put one out on his arm later. You know, as punishment." "Yeah..." Ryan utters, awkwardly grabbing his cup and picking up a teaspoon in order to start loading in the sugar. "Oh," Celeste comments, sipping her own black (ironically) coffee. "Hm?" Ryan questions, and Celeste tells him, "It's just... sugar. No ashtray, and yet he had to include that wretched stuff with my selection? I'll have to punish him twice as hard... maybe crack out the old whip." "What's wrong with--?" Ryan starts to ask, but it's too late, for Celeste is already monologuing: "Did you know, Mr. Shapiro, that sugar is ten times more addictive than cocaine? It causes far more death, and far more misery, in this great country of ours, and yet it's perfectly legal to sell. Why, a peddler of that particular powder could easily end up in the Fortune Five Hundred, and yet I - perhaps the most successful and innovative businesswoman of this day and age, far outweighing that mongrel Oprah Winfrey - have to lurk in the shadows... entirely unappreciated by the world at large for my efforts... all because what I sell happens to be under the radar. We could industrialize drugs, tax them, but no... instead I'm forced to spend my days around the likes of you, and undisciplined negroes like that Mae girl or half-breeds such as Mr. Vargas. It just isn't fair." "If it helps," Ryan tries, discarding the sugar and drinking his coffee black like his boss, "I appreciate you." "It doesn't," Celeste sparks up another cigarette, "When my ex-husband died, and my alimony stopped flowing, I fulfilled my greatest girlhood dream, and opened up this wonderful modelling agency. My own fashion line. Even my own nail polish," she flashes her impressively painted talons," But, it wasn't selling. So I had to get creative, in terms of my merchandise, and now look at me. Is this not just the nicest office you've ever seen, Mr. Shapiro?" Ryan takes a look around, and says, "It's pretty cool, yeah." "'Pretty cool'," Celeste scoffs, blowing more smoke into his face, "That is, when I'm not getting ashes all over my damn desk! Oh, I simply can't deal with this anymore." With that, she stands up and approaches the wall, where a wine fridge rests. She opens it up to reveal a conspicuous lack of wine, then reaching her arm into the back and punching in a code which causes it to open up - a hidden safe. From there, she pulls out one of her many nice crystal ashtrays, and places it down on the coffee tray in place of the sugar, meaning the sugar goes spilling all over the floor. "Houseboy! Get in here and clean up a spillage... and bring your own whip so I can reprimand you as you vacuum!" "What do you keep in there?" Ryan wonders, "Isn't wine more fitting for a celebration than coffee." "If I drank, perhaps," Celeste shrugs, "But tobacco is my bag. I never sample my own products, or the enemy." "And wine is the enemy?" Ryan questions, to which she says, "Until the day Celeste Grier is branded on the commercial packaging of a legal bag of heroin, in the vain of one J. P. Chenet, yes." It's then that the door opens, and Celeste says, "Ah, houseboy. The spillage is just--" But it isn't one of her houseboys - it's Dr. Nick. "Hi, everybody," he says as he enters, toting with him something very special indeed. "You were able to procure it for me, Dr. Nick?" she questions, and he says that plastic surgery isn't his only forte. With that, he hands her the object, and she holds it up to the light to reveal that it's a stolen Businesswoman of the Year award, which she takes great pleasure in possessing before placing it carefully into her wine cellar safe, "In with the rest of the valuables you go." "You're a plastic surgeon?" Ryan questions, and Celeste says, "A new hire. In case I ever have to pull a Maria Solano. See, these are the kinds of precautions I have to take doing what I do. So much extra effort. Honestly, if I weren't metaphorically rolling in riches, it just wouldn't be worth the effort. You can go now, Mr. Shapiro." She shuts her safe. "The time for celebrations is done."
"I didn't see the code," Ryan is telling Aliza in the present, having just recited that entire scene for her benefit, "But--" "I can figure it out," Aliza shrugs, "This Dr. Nick guy, though... she has a plastic surgeon on her side?" And then it clicks with her - just how the CG on Henry's ass was taken care of. "Yeah," Ryan shrugs. "And I thought the clock was ticking before," Aliza begins to panic, "If that bitch changes her fucking face, it's game over." "Well you best hurry up and catch her then!" Ryan begins to panic, "Because if she found out that I blew the whistle on--" "Don't worry," Aliza assures him, "I'll think of something."
We next see her back in Celeste's old, abandoned office. She finds the wine fridge still attached to the wall, and opens it up to reveal the safe in the back, punching in the code 420 and having it open right up. "Never fails," she smiles, but of course the thing is empty, save for a note... "This is it," Aliza smiles, grabbing it and reading it hungrily. Buuuut all it says is, "Catch me if you can, n--" Aliza can't bring herself to finish reading it out loud, and so simply scrunches it up and growls, "That bitch," before hurling it into the trashcan under the desk, which contains about a bazillion cigarette butts. "Joe would be able to solve this thing," she sighs, remembering the last time she was properly in this place, undercover as a prostitute - and then she exclaims, "Eureka! Daz it!"
We next see her strolling on into the precinct, where only Huberd is waiting. "You seen Mike or Kathryn?" she asks her inferior, who quickly hides her vibrator in his desk drawer and exclaims, "I wasn't doing anything! I mean, no, I haven't, why?" "Because I just came up with a solution to our Celeste Grier problem. An old, reliable solution." "What's that?" Huberd wonders, at which Aliza reveals, "I'm gonna go undercover as a butler."
"Well houseboy, technically. But, same difference," Aliza is now explaining to Kathryn and Mike, in her office. "Let me get this straight..." Kathryn utters, entirely confused, "You're a Drag King?" "I will be dressing as a man, yes," Aliza confirms, and Mike skeptically questions, "And you actually think this'll work?" "It always works," Aliza promises, "Trust me. If there's one method of investigation in this town that's proven results time and time again, it's the ol' undercover butler maneuver. Classics are classics for a reason." "Because it got done by the guy who killed my best friend," Kathryn whines, "yunno, your mother. God, that trial was a sham." "The whole fake whore thing barely worked," Mike reminds. "Only because Antwon came blundering in, but he's--" she stops herself, growing more delicate, "He isn't going to be posing a problem anymore." At this, Kathryn rubs her belly again, muttering, "Speak for yourself," under her breath, and Aliza asks her, "What?" to which she replies, "Nothing. Just that this lame-o plan of yours totally won't work. Not against my mother." "The fact that it's against your mother is exactly why it will work," Aliza is certain, "I'm gonna use her blind racism to my full advantage. It's 'bout damn time discrimination came in handy." "For once, and I can't believe I'm about to say this, I agree with Kathryn," Mike tells her, making the knocked-up bitch smile, "This won't work." "Well I don't see either of you two dunces coming up with any bright ideas of your own!" the Chief of Police defends, "Where the hell have the both of you been all day anyway?!" Both go silent, with Kathryn muttering, "Drug store... yeast infection..." and Mike muttering, "Took a stroll... met some seagulls..." unsure of what else to say. Aliza eyes up the both of them, but soon decides to let it go, not really having the time for this - "Look, we're doing my thing. End of discussion." "No, not end of discussion," Mike insists, "At least run us through this plan properly!" "Right," the Chief nods, turning to Kathryn, who's busy chewing alcoholic gum in an effort to murder her fetus. "You," Aliza adds, making Kathryn turn to her, startled, and swallow by accident, choking for a while. Rolling her eyes, Aliza positions herself behind the Big Bad's daughter and performs the Heimlich, meaning the gum goes flying right into Mike's eye, and he has to peel it off in disgust. "Oh, don't be such a baby, it ain't any worse than a moneyshot," Aliza points out, feeling in her element enough to start cracking out the gay jokes again, while Kathryn looks down at herself and asks, "I wonder if that did it. Does this place have an elevator I can go bleed out in?" "I don't got time fo' yo' ramblings, bitch, just listen to yo' part o' ma' plan or go the fuck to jail, m'kay?" "Or some stairs I could throw myself d--" "Kathryn!" Aliza snaps, and the formerly rich bitch groans, "Listening, Chief," before perkily adding, "Ooh, look at that - I'm part of the tribe!" "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Aliza goes on, while Mike marvels at how someone like Kathryn has made is this far in life without being shanked ("I'm the token white one," she says, "Like that black guy in Trump's old cover photo. I guess I'll stand in the back when Generic Gay Cop takes our pics. Hashtag heist! Or whatever this is"). "So, you're gonna go to yo' momma's temporary HQ, and convince her she gotta move again, and that she gotta bring all her shit with her." "Why?" Mike wonders, and Aliza snaps, "I'm gettin' to that, zip it!" He zips it, and the Chief continues to explain, "You're gonna ask for her to throw you a big, lavish party. To celebrate being welcomed back into the fold." "Ooh, a party!" Kathryn excitedly exclaims, "Will there be presents?" "Sure." "Do I get a pony?" "No." "Aw." "Bitch, hush. You ask for a party, so that--" "A party just so you can go undercover as a butler?" Mike questions, "Why not just use Kathryn's tracking chip to find her current base and storm that with a SWAT team?" "Zip. It. Dee. Doo. Da," Aliza barks, explaining, "A party means she'll be out in the open, rife to be taken down. No armed guards swarmed around her to aid her escape. And, just like the last time, we don't know where she's hiding what it is she's hiding. We could arrest her, assuming the other houseboys don't shoot us first, and never find it. This isn't exactly a woman who breaks easily." "That's true," Kathryn nods, "I have kind of a huge head, and there was no tearing or anything when she popped me outta her pussy. I sure hope that's genetic..." She begins to panic internally. "A party will have her vulnerable. Guard down, and distracted," Aliza insists, "It gives us a second shot in case I fail." "So you acknowledge you're probably gonna fail?" asks Mike, and Aliza begs, "Will you stop being snippy with me? I'm the one putting my life on the line here - this woman has tried to have me killed at least twice!" Mike frowns at this. "So either say something helpful or don't say anything at all," she adds, and he remains quiet. "Good," she turns back to Kathryn, "So, party locale, maybe we could try--" "The Kappelletti mansion!" Kathryn excitedly squeals, "I could have mommy buy it - no one's wanted to touch it since it got the stink of terrorism all up in there and there was that Halloween serial killer massacre a la my ex-fiancée's prison wife!" "Um... cool," Aliza nods, "So you go to your mother and... you convince her to do that." "On it!" Kathryn beams, beginning to head out of the station, "And with all that set, there's plenty of room for a pony!" "No ponies!" "We'll see!" Before she leaves, Aliza calls after her, "Don't think of betrayin' me, bitch! I'll find you! I will always find yo' ass!" "How romantic," Mike sighs, for only he and Aliza remain in the office now. "I just meant I'll pop that the same way I popped her titties way back when," she explains, and Mike nods, "This town has a very rich and textured history." "Sure does," the Chief nods. "So," she tries to strike up a conversation, only for Mike to leave the office. She sighs, looking to her father's framed war medal, and she asks his photograph, "You believe in me, don't you, daddy?" His picture smiles back at her, and she takes comfort in it, closing her eyes and allowing the medal and the memory of the man who earned it to fill her with the bravery she needs to pursue this upcoming mission, believing herself to be all alone save for one retarded blonde... that is, until Mike returns to the office, bearing with him, "A new earpiece. Slicker than the earring. It can go in your wig or something, since you're dragging it up." "I don't get it," Aliza grows confused, taking the earpiece from his hand, "You're on board now?" "I figured you'd wanna go undercover again at some point. Seems to be your thing," Mike shrugs, "So I made that, ready. Did it in the time you were blanking me. Because, no matter how things are between... us... I promised I'd solve this case, and, as much as it pains me to admit, I can't do that without you. So I need you to take down Celeste Grier, and not die. And you need me whispering in your ear if that's ever gonna stand a shot in hell of working. So... sure. I'm 'on board' or whatever. I have faith in you." "Mike..." she utters, touched and taken aback, "Thank you." There's an awkward pause, and he admits, "I want you to be safe, I guess. You were right, what you said on that boat. You can't protect this town if you're behind bars... Or dead." "Any chance this means you forgive me?" she has to ask, but the behind-the-scenes detective admits, "I don't know, honestly. I... don't know where I stand on you. I used to respect the hell out of you. I researched all the good you did, before coming to this town. When I met you in that bar, I had no idea you were the same woman who turned Wikerly Hills around." "I'm just tryna fill Joe's shoes," Aliza figures, but Mike furrows his brow at this, pointing out, "Shoes seem to fit you pretty well, Aliza." "Well, I was Cinderella in an extended fantasy sequence." "You're always saying shit I don't understand, though." "Sorry," she shakes her head, "Thanks again for the earpiece. I do need you." "I know," he nods. "And I'm glad, that you still do wanna be a detective." At this, he says, "Let's just get to the end of this case and see if that's still true." "I gotta ask," she goes on, too curious not to know, "And I know it ain't ma' place but... what was the lead you followed? The one which told you your father and this town were somehow linked?" "Honestly?" Mike admits, "When I went to the movies to see Devious Butlers 2: Mama Drama. I knew it was based on true stories from Wikerly Hills, and there was this one really extra arc that didn't really fit about this black family keeping who'd killed a guy with exactly my father's story... I don't believe in coincidences, I guess." "Huh..." Aliza processes, "Well, there was us meeting. That was a coincidence." "I suppose it was," Mike figures, thinking back to the first time they say each other in that bar, "Good luck, Aliza. I don't agree with your methods, still, but... take this bitch down whatever way you need to." "Don't worry," the Chief smiles, putting the earpiece in her ear to make sure it stays put, "if there's one thing you can count on, it's that I always get my man. Even if that man is a chain-smoking white bitch in a skirt suit."
We now find said chain-smoking white bitch in a skirt suit back in her office, sat with Dr. Nick and flipping through different photographs of foreheads, noses, cheeks and the like, all for the means of getting ready for Celeste's facial reconstruction that she plans on having done. "I'm thinking this nose with that forehead," Celeste says, pointing to two different pictures, and Dr. Nick takes note of this, having a computer up, digitally rearranging stuff to work out the end result of Celeste's new look. "Ooh, fabulous!" Madame Grier nods at the computer, taking a look at what Dr. Nick has up; however, she then sighs, taking a look at her current self in a mirror on her desk. "It really is a shame we're about to repaint the Sistine Chapel." Needing to console herself, she opens up her drawer and pulls out a cigarette, then snapping her fingers thus alerting a houseboy come and light it for her. She takes a puff, feeling much better, and Dr. Nick shares that everything is officially complete. "All we gotta do is get you on that operating table, and we're good to go." Celeste is satisfied by this, stating that she just wants to wait for her daughter to return, "With confirmation that she disposed of that thick-lipped coon of a baboon, of course." Dr. Nick is put off by this but makes sure to keep it to himself, not wanting to be executed on the spot, and it just so happens that this is when Kathryn Kappelletti makes her way through Celeste's office door. "Darling, welcome back!" Celeste greets, "I take it you got rid of the body?" Kathryn confirms this, stating that she dragged her out to the water and let the current take her away. "Excellent! She'll wash up on the shore of another town, and her body will decompose before anyone can actually be arsed with so much as checking to see if she has a pronounceable name." "Yeah!" Kathryn forces herself to shout, definitely over-compensating, but she decides now is the best time to ask what she's been sent there to do in the first place. "So, mommy," she says to Celeste, "I was thinking we could have a party. Y'know, celebrate me being Kathryn Grier now." "I suppose it wouldn't hurt," Celeste agrees, "Sure, why not?" "Great!" Kathryn says with glee, "But not here!" "Well, of course not," her mother says in response, "But was there any place in particular that you had hoped for?" "Hmm..." Kathryn pretends to think, as though she hadn't already come up with the perfect location, "Why not the old Kappelletti mansion? We could redo it. It'd be perfect!" "That sounds good to me," Celeste shrugs, "This'll be my one last appearance with this face. Sigh..." She pulls out another cigarette and snaps her fingers again, having one of her houseboys come and light it up. She takes a puff, then scanning Kathryn up and down. "As a matter of fact, once my modifications are complete, I could have Dr. Nick give you back your old luxuriant breasts. Hell, I could have him make any modifications you'd like." Kathryn is actually touched, this being the first time her mother has really offered her anything she didn't have to beg for. And it most likely wouldn't be the first of last. Kathryn then proceeds to contemplate some…
And you know who's not contemplating right now? Silvia Montgomery, as she's too busy deep-frying chicken in the kitchen of her home as Sadie Washington is sat at the table, doing some research on her laptop. "So I've done more looking into my father's case, and apparently they've just discovered a bunch of evidence on his yacht. All we need to do is capture Michelle's fingerprints and spread them around. It'll make it look like she's guilty of murder, and her colored ass will spend the rest of her life in jail." "Colored?" Silvia questions, and Sadie explains, "Y'know, since she's black and all." "No, I know... It's just, why did you feel the need to include that in your statement?" "Why do you feel the need to grill me right now?" Sadie spits back, ordering Silvia to just fry her damn chicken and let her figure out a plan. Silvia is put off by this, never having seen this side of Sadie before, but nonetheless she continues to cook. "Ugh," Sadie moans as she maps out her stepmother's demise, "This would all be so much easier if she coulda just had a massive stroke or something back when dad was alive. I guess the years have made them resilient. Another thing that's unfair." Meanwhile, about twenty-three of Shaniqua Mae's kids each run into the kitchen at the same time, ready to eat. Sadie lets out a loud, terrified shriek at this, jumping up onto her chair and then the actual table itself, demanding to know what the actual fuck is going on here. "Oh, I'm babysitting," Silvia reveals, "Their mother dropped them off before you got here, said she had to go settle a score with someone over something." "And you're just... okay with having these creatures in your home?" "They're children, Sadie..." "They're the spawn of Satan! How did I not hear them before?" "They don't speak, dear." Then we'd have to credit them, and yeah, no. Anyways, the chicken has been fried, and so Silvia hands the plate out to one of Shaniqua's children to take into the living room with the others. "I have Black Panther on DVD, just check on the shelf," Silvia says to the kids, who head off to eat dinner and watch their all-time favorite movie. Sadie feels as though she needs to take a shower, having shared the same air with Shaniqua's kids. "Honestly, if there's one thing I don't get about my generation it's their very high tolerance for... those people." "Those people?" "The negros," Sadie feels the need to specify, "What happened to a good set of chains and a whip? The BDSM community have fun with it, so why can't we normalize it for the lesser race?" Silvia is completely and utterly taken aback by this. "And don't even get me started on disabled people. Those kids are retarded, right? I can practically smell it on them. Seriously, those should just be taken out back and shot, whether or not they're white or black. It really would be the merciful thing to do, for them and for us." "Do... do you even think before you speak?" Silvia questions, now on the verge of a full-on trigger, completely and utterly appalled by everything Sadie's just said. "What?" she shrugs, "I thought you felt the same way. Isn't that why you wanna destroy Michelle? Because black people don't deserve to have basic human rights?" "I..." But Silvia takes a deep breath, "Yes. That's exactly how I feel." Silvia forces a smile on her face, needing this alliance to play out now more than ever, though she's mentally picturing snapping the bitch's neck.
It's party time! Celeste's houseboys worked fast, getting everything in order, and we see that everything has already kicked off. All of Celeste's many loyal followers are present, mingling about, and we see Aliza makes her way through one of the side entrances. However, she doesn't look as she normally would, currently wearing a suit, men's wig, and fake mustache. She's a butler - or rather, houseboy - and Kathryn has been able to momentarily sneak away from her guests to meet with the disguised Chief of Police. We see Kathryn in a beautiful new dress with her hair all done, looking just like her old self, albeit a bit chubbier. She looks happy though, really feeling pretty again, but is sad knowing that, in the back of her head, none of this is going to last for long. "So you know what you're doing?" the white bitch asks the black bitch, who says she's got a good idea. "And by the way, why does this place look like the old Del Barrio mansion?" Right, it should be mentioned that when Celeste's houseboys got the party ready, Kathryn ordered that everything be remodeled to look like the place Ali and Liz once resided. "Oh, 'cause that's where all the big mystery reveals take place. D'uh!" Aliza simply blinks at this before Kathryn fucks off, going back to mingle and enjoy what little time with her restored glam that she has left. Aliza, meanwhile, starts to move about, getting a feel of the scene. With her she carries a tray of drinks, and she's currently listening to Mike who's back at the precinct. "Avoid going to the left. That's where Celeste is, and we don't want to risk her recognizing you just yet." Aliza listens to this, turning to the right instead where she accidentally bumps into none other than Judge Quinnson. "Watch it!" the talk show host exclaims, and Aliza asks, in her attempt at a deep voice, if Quinnson would like a drink. She does, and so Aliza hands her one, but continues to be looked at suspiciously. "You look familiar..." Quinnson begins to realize, and both Aliza and Mike, listening in, fear the worst. "Did you by chance happen to work at Boi Toys R Us?" But Aliza freezes, deciding what to say, but ultimately lands on a simple "Fuck off." Quinnson scoffs at this, but Aliza walks away, not giving a shit because she knows Quinnson is simply too damn irrelevant to actually serve as a problem. "Aliza!" Mike shouts into the earpiece, condemning her some, while we shift to the other side of the party where Kathryn is now with Celeste, who's watching her unwrap a bunch of presents. "A new sable coat!" Kathryn gasps, looking up at Celeste, "Mommy, you should have!" She holds the coat close to her with one arm, tears welling up in her eyes, and uses her other arm to pull Celeste in for a hug. Everyone gathered around is in awe of this mother/daughter reunion, and Celeste figures now is as good a time as any to stand up and give a speech, formally welcoming Kathryn back into the fold. She double snaps her fingers, thus alerting a houseboy to bring her a microphone, and so she then calls out for everyone's attention. "Hello, everyone," she says aloud, and Aliza looks up, watching as a podium is put before Celeste. "Tonight really is a special night for us. I say us because it is for me, and what's special for me can only benefit you." Celeste's crowd of followers are a bit put off by this, but of course they know if they show that they'll end up dead and defiled in the back of some ally. "Years ago, I lost contact with my beloved daughter. She had a choice to make, and she made the wrong one. But now, all this time later, we stand her together, united again." Kathryn, wearing her new sable coat, wipes her watering eyes. "Now I'm no longer in this alone," Celeste says to the crowd, "I built this empire from the ground up all by myself, but now I have someone to share it with. I have someone to pass it down to when I'm gone." Kathryn takes in every word of this, while Aliza arches a brow, having a sip of one of the drinks she carries. Quinnson isn't even listening, just taking selfies or some dumb shit. "Kathryn proved herself to me. To all of us. It wasn't me who eliminated the problem that was Chief of Police Aliza Little. It was her. I gave her a test - a big test - and she passed with flying coloreds." Aliza looks to Kathryn at this, and the two properly hold eye contact for a couple seconds before Kathryn looks back down. "And I just know--" Celeste says, turning to Kathryn, but then stopping mid-sentence to look out into the crowd. Something has caught her eye. She's looking right in Aliza's direction. "Oh, shit..." she utters, and Mike asks what's going on. "Houseboys..." Celeste utters before shouting, "HOUSEBOYS!" She points into the crowd, still in Aliza's direction, at one person in particular, "SEIZE HER!" Everyone turns in shock, and Aliza stands frozen, thinking that it's all over. She goes to pull out her gun as the houseboys move in her direction, but to her confusion they go right past her. She looks back and then realizes who Celeste was talking about. A little ways behind her was none other than Shaniqua Mae, who too crashed the party. "Get yo dry hands off me!" Shaniqua bitches to the houseboys, "Imma avenge ma Antwon!! You fuckers hear me?!" "Apologies everyone, but I'll be right back," Celeste says to the crowd, "There's a certain pest I must deal with first." Celeste tosses the microphone to one of her houseboys, storming over to the others who have Shaniqua and demanding that she be taken up to the study. Kathryn watches this all in shock, not knowing how to react. She looks out at Aliza, who too isn't quite sure what to do. "Aliza, what's going on?!" Mike needs to know, and Aliza responds, "That bitch got Shaniqua! She's probably gon' kill her!" "Wait, what?!" "Change of plan, I gotta go save her! "Wait, Aliza!" Mike tries, "You could blow your cover!" "I don't care," Aliza makes clear, "Antwon's already dead, so I can't let the mama of his kids get roppled too!" Her mind has already been made, and there's nothing Mike can to do stop it now. He realizes this, and so he sits back. Still holding her tray of drinks, Aliza gets an idea, and so she starts to head up to the study as well.
There, we see Shaniqua on the floor, hands tied behind her back, with Celeste standing before her smoking a cigarette. Two houseboys are present, and so Celeste nods to one of them. With that, the houseboy walks over ad kicks Shaniqua right in her titties. "Son of a me!" the STD-riddled negro cries aloud, falling off to her side in agonizing pain. Celeste revels in this. "So you're all natural," she notices of Shaniqua, who spits at her old boss' feet. Celeste's expression changes from impressed to angry in an instant, and so she turns to the second houseboy. "Get the nipple clamps!" The houseboy goes to do that, leaving the room while Aliza makes her way inside, still maintaining her disguise. She carries the tray of drinks with her and, in a deep voice, exclaims, "I figured you may want a drink." "Don't you 'figure' anything," Celeste exclaims, offended, "I could have your organs rearranged right here, right now if I wasn't already busy... But yes, I'll take that drink." She reaches out and takes a drink off the tray - a martini, to be exact - but it's at this very moment when Aliza's body can take it no longer. A button from her suit pops, finding its way down Shaniqua's throat, whole, and the Chief of Police's boobs come spilling on out, the tray of drinks drenching Celeste in the meantime, as well as the desk and floor. "What the?!" Celeste exclaims, enraged and soaking wet, then realizing what's going on. She violently rips Aliza's wig and ear piece away, as well as the fake mustache. "You're alive?!" "Motherfucker..." Aliza utters, and Celeste screams for her real houseboys to return, armed. Two of them do, and Celeste demands Aliza be tied up with Shaniqua. "Oh, just you wait, girl. This is the turning point." Aliza gulps in fear.
"Aliza? Aliza?!" Mike exclaims in a panic back at the precinct, the feed from the earpiece to his computer now having gone dead, and he utters to himself, "Not again..." He then spots Huberd at his own desk, about to delve back into his vibrator drawer as he stares at his wedding photo to Dr. Strange, and calls out for him. "What? I'm working," Huberd slams the door shut in a panic, beginning to type frantically on his computer which isn't even switched on, and Mike rolls his eyes as he approaches him. "Look," he says, "Aliza's in danger... again. And I know she told you not to take orders from me, but--" "Oh, she revoked that," Huberd shrugs, and Mike is taken aback some, saying, "She... she did?" "Totally," Huberd nods, "Right before she left for the mission she's on now. She said to trust you, one hundred percent." Michael finds himself flooded with affection, which he quickly has to ignore, as he presses on with, "Well, good. Because I need you to actually assemble backup this time. All you can muster. And get it to the old Kappelletti mansion." "Really? We're not usually big on the whole bells and whistles thing. Sting operations are kind of our--" "This is how I do fieldwork," Mike assures, "It's time to get out from behind the desk." Huberd nods, and begins heading towards the riot gear, assembling the rest of the unnamed officers who (trust us) have always been about.
Meanwhile, Aliza is thrown to the ground of the fake Del Barrio study by a pair of houseboys, her hands now bound by rope behind her back and her ankles tied up too - just like Shaniqua Mae, who rests next to her. "And the piggy goes oink," Shaniqua mimics the sound a hog makes, and Aliza snaps, "Shut the fuck up." "Both of you shut the fuck up," Celeste insists, standing behind the gin-strewn desk as she rubs her temples furiously, "Your incessant African is giving me a headache." "You know, meeting you, it's shocking Kathryn turned out as well as she did," Aliza realizes, "And that's really fuckin' sayin' somethin', 'cause yeah." "Did you mishear me when I told you to shut up?" Celeste questions, "Did those Malarial mosquitoes get lodged in your ears at birth?!" "God I hope your daughter comes to our rescue soon... I can't believe it's down to her..." Aliza whispers to herself, "Come on, Kathryn..."
Kathryn, however, remains out in the main party area, swathed in her new fur coat and stuffing copious amounts of cake into her mouth as she orders houseboys to unwrap her presents for her. "Oh, my God, is that... It is!" she soon exclaims, ditching the cake into a houseboy's face and grabbing the recently-unwrapped box from another, "A brand new vibrator! Oh, this is just the best day of my life... One o' you monkeys wanna rub my feet?"
"Now that we have some peace and quiet," Celeste exhales, "I can actually hear myself think, about what I'm going to do about the jumped-up urchin cop and her whore disciple. Kill you, perhaps? Ah, but how... I ordered no ice penises to this party for exactly the reason that I didn't want a guest of honor to be impaled upon one." "So, did you do it?" Aliza asks, "Kill the last guest of honor to be murdered at one o' this town's big parties?" Celeste sighs - "I thought I was speaking now!" - but Aliza insists, "Bitch, you had alla history to speak on out. It's our turn now!" "Yeah!" Shaniqua Mae agrees, "Can one of yo' boys maybe roll me over? Sittin' like this is shovin' my hemorrhoids right back up my... Ooh, never mind, turns out I love it." "Okay, well it's my turn," Aliza amends, scooching away from Shaniqua some as best she can, "And you, honky bitch, are only gonna speak when spoken to. So, tell me, did you kill Henry?" "You are tied up at my disposal. What on God's white earth makes you think you have the right to demand anything from me?" "I'm Aliza Little," she manages to state with a sense of grandeur, despite her current predicament, "and I always get ma' man." At this, Shaniqua scoffs, but Aliza ignores her, adding, "So the clock is tickin' for you, bitch, whether you want it to or not." "I could have you shot right now. Or perhaps a lynching would be more fitting... maybe with the very ropes that, currently, are debasing themselves all wrapped around your brunette wrists." "You really are the Big Bad of racism, aren't you?" Aliza asks as Celeste takes out her lighter and shoves a cigarette directly into her mouth, not bothering with her long holder due to the amount of stress she's under. "I should never have got so carried away with my houseboys," she comments after taking her first puff, "When Dr. Nick gives me my new face and I move on from this drab little urban-esque town, I'll make sure to do the white thing. Tell me, Generic Houseboy, with hands like those, how can you tell when anything's clean?" The houseboy doesn't respond, because he doesn't have the permission to do so, and Aliza coughs, "Making my point." "I don't care about your points," Celeste rolls her eyes, taking another drag, and Aliza shrugs (as much as she's able), "Great. So do it then. Have us shot, or lynched, or whatever." "Bitch, speak fo' yoself!" Shaniqua yells, now being the one to do the scooching away, but this means that one of her loose breasts falls into her armpit and she cries. "You just gotta trust that I'm the only line of defense," the Chief of Police continues, "That there isn't a team of snipers outside waiting to put a bullet in yo' brain if any harm comes to their leader whatsoever!" "They'd have stormed the place by now..." Celeste is certain, but Aliza questions, "Wanna risk it? Or do you wanna buy yourself some goddamn time and just tell me the fucking truth - did you kill Henry Washington?" "Of course I fucking didn't!" Celeste finally exclaims, taking the biggest drag of her cigarette to date and then stubbing it out on her houseboy's arm, "You think this is some sort of grand mystery? That there's some big twist or turn coming your way? No, you silly little girl! This story is just like every other from your minuscule life - drab and boring!" "I know you got that note!" Aliza insists, "And yo' drugs where on his yacht, and the burner phone he used to call you about all the shady shit the two o' you had goin' on together! So what then! He disobeyed you, and you had his ass murdered?!" "I didn't want Henry to die, you imbecile!" Celeste begins lighting up another cigarette, "I was about to have control of the Mayor! I was about to be the most powerful woman in town! Capable of anything! For the love of God, I even imbued him with brand recognition!" "The 'CG' on his ass... the reason you stole his body from the morgue..." "Exactly! Not because I killed him, but because I didn't want to be mistakenly implicated. Honestly, I knew your kind were a bunch of nitwits, but you really take the cake."
"More cake, please!" Kathryn yells to another houseboy, already licking cake off the face of the one from earlier, "Baby's hungry. And they're about to make a new friend." With that, the vibrator gets its first test. It works.
"So what happened then? Where's the rest of the note?!" Aliza needs to know, and Celeste cries, "Right here!" as she takes the torn-off piece of paper right from out of her new desk drawer, "I decided to keep it with me, as a reminder never to let myself rely on another man for power, ever again! Also, it's incriminating as shit." "What's it say?" Aliza asks, and Celeste rolls her eyes as she exclaims, "It's a generic suicide note!" "S... suicide note?" "Henry killed himself, you fool..." Aliza allows this to wash over her, while Celeste continues:
He decided he wanted nothing to do with me any longer.
"I need more money, Mr. Mayor," Celeste is saying to him over one of her burner phones, "If you're to continue buying out my supply. May I count on you for a down payment soon?" "You may not!" Henry exclaims back, in a moment we've seen before, right before he tosses a file into the shredder of his old office and slams that phone down into the desk drawer, right as Aliza is about to come in for a meeting (see "A Little Pilot").
He was ashamed, you see. Of what a hilarious cuck he had become. Cheating on his wife, doing drugs... and so he decided to ditch the evidence of his crimes, and send it out to sea.
On the day of his victory party, Henry is shown in his yacht, alone, shutting his burner phone into the drawer of the night stand in his love dungeon.
But not before scribbling out this tawdry note, detailing the reasons why, just in case anyone should ever find it.
He takes a pen and paper, and begins writing his suicide note. To my loved ones, I have something dreadful to confess... (see "A Little Sea Air").
And so it did set sail, to no fault of my own.
He's then seen out at the dock, paying workers to help him push the thing out into the ocean without a passenger on board.
And he went to his silly little victory party. I think he had thoughts of changing his mind, but... Okay, to be fair, I may have sent him over the edge. Just a smidge.
"I thought I made it clear via our little phone call that you may not show up to try and extort more money from me." "You might wanna keep your voice down, Henry," Celeste warns, "Wouldn't want your voters thinking you're not all trustworthy now, would you?" He looks angry, but lowers his voice, assuring, "I don't have anything more to give you." She however also eyes up the silverware, pointing out, "You're the Mayor now, darling. Thanks to me. Scrounge something up, why don't you?" She then blows smoke in his face and slinks off (see "A Little Pilot").
So, when he got the chance, and the pressure concaved his tiny little mind, he went up to his study and snorted half his supply. It was enough to kill anyone, really. Entirely his own doing.
Indeed, we see Henry sitting in his study, his wife's fur coat on the back of his desk chair, snorting lines upon lines of cocaine, wanting to feel amazing... and then feel nothing at all. He just can't take it anymore.
I almost couldn't believe my eyes when I discovered him.
"Huh," Celeste comments, staring at the dead Henry when she walks into the study, "Isn't that annoying?" With that, she begins scooping away the cocaine, not wanting her product to be found by the police.
And then my daughter came in, ever so hilariously.
We again see Kathryn accidentally fling Henry off the balcony while trying to steal Michelle's coat (see "A Little Valentine's Date"), and Henry go splat on that big, sharpened ice dick (see "A Little Pilot"). "Oh, come on," Adrian Mendez whines once his stunned silence has worn off, blood on his face.
All I did was try to hide my involvement.
We again see Celeste's goons knocking out Joy so that they may steal Henry's corpse (see "A Little Black Widow"), one of them accidentally leaving behind one of the modelling agency's business cards as a crucial clue as they go.
We see Aliza battling the houseboys, and her and Mike taking Henry's body back (see "A Little Cathouse Fight").
At the very least, I was able to find his yacht, before you ever knew it existed, and stash my drugs there, assuming they'd never be found.
Celeste is seen stepping from her own boat, onto the deck of Henry's. A squad of houseboys back her up, being the ones to actually place the cocaine into the night stand drawer, which is where Celeste discovers the suicide note. She begins reading it, and grows infuriated.
Can you just believe how much he blamed me for his death? All the crap about how I was the one to drive him to this, and how he regrets he ever met me - I was the woman who made him! I gave him everything he ever could have wanted! The bastard!"
She tears it with her fingernail in anger, thinking of burning it with her lighter out of rage. But instead, she chooses to keep it. Like she said, as a reminder.
And so that's that really. So what will it be, Chief Little? Bullet, or hanging?
"What did you do to those drugs exactly?" Aliza questions, remembering something that Mike said, but Celeste appears genuinely confused, because, "Why are you asking more questions of me? For the love of God, I just went on an entire rant for you - the least you could do me in return is finally be quiet before you see the light. Or... I don't know, do you fellows ever see light, or is everything just sort of colorless all the time?" "Is when I look atchu, you bland ass cracker," Aliza insists, and Celeste smiles, "How fun. Prepare to die." "Hold on up!" Aliza insists. "Yeah, hold on up!" Shaniqua chimes in, "I ain't dyin' with my titty still jammed in ma' armpit braids!" "You still dunno if I got people watchin'," Aliza tries to bide time. "You don't," Celeste is sure, "No one's coming for you, my dear."
But that's where she's wrong. Because, outside, a chopper lands not far from the Kappelletti mansion, beside an entire squadron of cop cars, filled to the brim with backup. "I can't believe the W.H.P.D has access to one of these things... or that you know how to fly one," Mike is saying to Huberd. "Well, shitty a cop as I may be," Huberd admits, "I was a Lieutenant for like a decade. I do have some special skills." "Fair enough," Mike nods. "So, do we storm the place?" Huberd wonders, but Mike shakes his head. "We don't know yet how much trouble she's in. For all we know, the earpiece just came loose... this is all a big precaution. We don't wanna blow her cover if it hasn't been blown yet." "So what are we gonna do?" Huberd wonders, and Mike says, "I'm gonna do what she would do for any one of us, and go in alone." He readies his gun.
"Shooting, I think," Celeste decides in the study, grabbing a pistol from one of her houseboys in lieu of her lighter and cigarette, "It's just so much quicker and easier, although it would be fun to watch you writhing for your life like a fish on a line... it'll also be fun to watch your brains go splat all over my new office walls. After all, it could do with a coat of paint." "And you're gonna do it yourself?" Aliza questions.
Meanwhile, Mike is covertly making his way through the party, going past Kathryn who's currently vomiting cake into a houseboy's mouth like a mother bird. Though she does see him, and fears why he might be there. He, meanwhile, deduces that Aliza's in the study. "All mystery reveals go down in the study, according to her diary," he nods, heading there.
"Yes, well... I'd rather take joy in being responsible for your death. The black bitch cop who almost ruined me." "Please," Aliza scoffs, "You don't got the guts to shoot anyone!" "Don't test her, foo'!" Shaniqua begs, while Celeste, coming out from behind that desk - still wet with martinis, like the carpet she now treads on - aims the pistol firmly at the tied-up heroine in front of her. "We'll see about that," she hisses, at which point the door bursts open, and Mike, aiming his own gun at the now very shocked Celeste, yells, "Freeze, bony white bitch!" apparently taking more than a few verbal cues from Aliza's book. Aliza's heart leaps, and then there's a gunshot, and it sinks. It takes her a moment to realize who's shot who, and then she sees the smoke coming from Celeste's barrel, and watches as Mike drops to the floor with a bloody hole in his torso.
Everyone at the party has just heard the gunshot, Kathryn included, who's still been playing with her new vibrator. "Oh, God..." she utters, realizing that shit must really be going down now. She turns the vibrator off, though still keeping it in tow, deciding to head upstairs and see what's going on. She passes by Judge Quinnson who's feeling up one of Celeste's only female followers (maybe a donor?)
Upstairs, tears stream down Aliza's face as she sees Mike fallen on the floor, starting to bleed out. She struggles to move towards him but remains unable to due to the restraints Celeste currently has her in. "Bitch, if you 'on't think I'm gonna get out of here and fuck you up then you got anotha thing comin'!" Aliza screams, while Shaniqua demands that she just shut the fuck up. "You ought to listen to her," Celeste agrees, waving the gun around. "Aliza..." Mike utters, but is unable to get out anything else as he's being overcome by pain. "Mike, hang in there!" Aliza cries, "We gon' get out of this!" "That's it," Celeste decides, "I've really let you go on living long enough. It's time to die." She raises the gun, prepared to shoot Aliza dead, but again she's interrupted, this time by the arrival of her daughter on the scene. "Mother, stop!" Kathryn calls out, and Celeste turns to her and expresses a clear distaste. "You treacherous little ingrate!" Celeste turns the gun, now on her own flesh and blood, "I ought to put a bullet in your head too, right here, right now." "Let. Them. Go." Kathryn demands, doing her best to not show fear at the fact that her mother is about ready to put an end to her time on Earth. "You're not gonna kill me," Kathryn says, shaking her head and calling her mother's bluff, "And you're not gonna kill them either. Now put the gun down." But Celeste doesn't listen. "How could you?" she asks instead, "How you could choose these disgusting little negros over me, you own mother?! It was one thing when you chose your father, but them?!" "Because these are good people!" Kathryn cries, "These two care about me, whether or not they like to admit it. And that's more than I can say about you!" "Kathryn--" "You never loved me! Aliza's been more of a mother to me than you ever were!" Kathryn wipes the tears away from her eyes, and Aliza watches this all the while, both feeling touched as well as afraid of what's to come. She looks back over at Mike, who's since lost all consciousness, but appears to not be dead just yet. Shaniqua's biting the herpes off her lip. "Perhaps," Celeste admits, shrugging her shoulders and lighting herself another cigarette (though she doesn't take a drag just yet), "but what are you gonna do to stop me from actually killing you all?" Kathryn thinks for a moment, then looking down at the dildo she has in her hand. Letting out a sigh, she tosses it at Celeste, only for it to bounce off of her and into the puddle of spilled martini. Celeste blinks at this, uncertain if this was some sort of joke, but she then breaks down into laughter anyway. Aliza and Shaniqua continue to watch, and Celeste goes to pick up the vibrator, all the while telling her daughter, "You really are a dumb bitch." But it's then that the alcohol mixes with the mechanics of the vibrator, and thus a powerful shock is sent through Celeste, electrocuting the ever-living shit out of her. Having suffered a full-on Edie Britt, her lifeless body drops to the ground. So, that. Aliza and Shaniqua's jaws are both dropped, and Kathryn rushes over to help untie the both of them. With Aliza being untied first, she gets up and rushes to a dying Mike's aide, while Shaniqua, boob free of armpit, finally gets the chance to scratch her vagina. "Man have I been needin' to do that!" All seems to be well, and we see there's two houseboys present who each turn to Kathryn. They bow to her, grateful to finally be free of Celeste's control, and with that they flee for their lives, off to warn the others they can all leave. Kathryn and Shaniqua go over to Aliza, who holds a bloody Mike in her arms. "We gotta get outta here!" she says, which just so happens to be when the cigarette Celeste was holding when she died drops from her hand, still lit, and hitting the puddle of alcohol. The room quickly becomes ablaze, being mostly made of set. Flammable, flammable set. "Son of a whore!" Aliza cries, and the smoke detectors go off, alerting everyone inside the mansion that they need to get out. "Help me get Mike!" Aliza exclaims, everyone now coughing up a storm. Kathryn and Shaniqua each go to help, but Shaniqua says, "Wait, ain't yous pregnant?! Get the fuck outta here!!" Kathryn just now remembers this, though it only makes her wanna stay back and help more. However, a passing houseboy runs in and scoops Kathryn up, helping her to safety as a way of showing gratitude for getting him his freedom. "Come on, grab an arm!" Aliza says to Shaniqua, as the two powerful women of color lift Mike up, hoping to get out as the fire spread. "Dammit to hell, I best be gettin' home safely to ma kids when this is all over..."
Speaking of which, said kids are now running amok in the real Del Barrio mansion which is currently not set ablaze (though we considered having Ali do so in the Devious Butlers series finale, fun fact). With them is Silvia, roaming the master bedroom in hopes of collecting Michelle's fingerprints. Pulling out some tape, Silvia sticks it to one of Michelle's foundation palettes on the dresser, remembering this to have been the way Nadia screwed over Joe way back when (see I forgot the episode) (turns out it was 3.08), believing this capable of doing the trick. "Alright, kids, let's go!" she says to Shaniqua's offspring as they've since begun chewing on Michelle's mattress. At first they don't listen to Silvia, and so she rolls her eyes. "Let's go, and I'll give you some Benadryl with dinner." The kids light up at this, and so they each follow Silvia out of the bedroom. She closes the door, and the kids walk alongside and behind her as she meets up with Sadie, who waits at the end of the hall. She takes a step back upon seeing Shaniqua's kids though, and Silvia rolls her eyes, handing her the piece of tape. "It's done. Now what do we do?" Silvia wonders, and Sadie smiles, taking the tape. "Now I break into the precinct, rub the prints over everything, and call in an anonymous tip suggesting Michelle could yet again be the culprit. They'll double check all the evidence, see the prints are there and assume they overlooked something. Because Michelle is a nasty, filthy negro, the jury won't be too kind to her when she ends up on trial and her ass will end up in jail for the rest of her days. Ah, the first step back to reinstating the Jim Crow Laws." "You, child, are going to burn in the deepest pits of hell," Silvia makes clear, but Sadie rolls her eyes. "Whatever. The point is I'll get my daddy's inheritance like God intended, and you'll get to keep what you stole from that confused and misguided... wow, I don't even know the original sex of my own cousin. You really couldn't tell. Oh well. Anyways, off to frame a bitch." Sadie begins to head off, but when she turns around to exit the hall, the door to one of the many, many rooms opens up. It's the room containing the old Del Barrio security monitors, and out steps is none other than Michelle Washington herself. "Not so fast," she says to Sadie, who jumps upon fright. "Michelle..." the girl utters, to which Mrs. Washington points upward and says, "You might want to smile." Sadie looks and sees that, indeed, a security camera is turned on. She then looks and sees that, indeed, it's the security monitoring room that Michelle just stepped out of. "Considering the fact that every little thing that goes on in this house becomes permanently documented - not my fault, as the former residents of this place left it behind and I have no clue as to how you shut it off - all of the illegal activity you just admitted to conspiring to commit will be shown to the authorities ASAP. It won't be me going to jail, Sadie. It'll be you." The girl turns to Silvia, realizing, "You set me up... Why?!" "See, I fully intended to work with you and help bring Michelle down, but after that crack you made about the mentally handicapped, I realized you were far, far worse. I couldn't just stand by and let Michelle be crucified while you were allowed to roam this Earth freely." "Silvia was upfront and honest with me," Michelle adds on, "We realized we spent all this time at each other's' throats when really we both suffered. We were both the victim. You, however... you're the real villain of this tale." "We came to terms with that when burying the hatchet over some good ole fried chicken," Silvia finishes. "You big, black bitch!" Sadie screams at her stepmother, then attempting to make a run for it. However, Silvia motions Shaniqua's kids, who all lunge at Sadie, pinning her to the ground. She lets out and intense scream as these children of color infect her with their disease-ridden selves. "Y'know, Sadie," Michelle says, now standing over her, "I did make a vow to you the last time we formally spoke." She then turns, "Silvia?" With that, Silvia goes into the security monitoring room, knowing how to shut off the cameras unlike her newly-acquired friend. "Thanks, dear," she says, then turning back to Sadie, and all we hear are cries for help as Michelle fulfills her promise of giving that face-pounding she vowed to dish out to her wicked stepdaughter.
Aliza and Shaniqua continue to drag the injured Mike through the fire of the old Kappelletti mansion, which sure is going up in smoke fast thanks to the whole being-half-set thing, and a trail of blood is left through the flames. "Come on! This way - hurry!" Aliza is screaming to her old rival, who in turn asks, "Why we headin' outside? Do we want peeps seein' us rape the corpse?" In this difficult and stressful time, Aliza takes the time to roll her eyes, which is just about the point that her arm is grabbed by Dr. Nick as he emerges from the flames. She is completely startled, while he yells, "Please save me! They forgot to make me relevant!" "I... I..." Aliza tries reaching out to him, to save him as well as her gunshot-imbued partner/lover, but its too late; the plastic surgeon's feet are already glued to the spot thanks to his shoes having melted into the carpet, and a particularly nasty jet of flames which bursts from the flammability of the stash of weed Kathryn got as a specially-made present from her drug dealer mother breaks right through his head - making it so that he's now stuck with a face that not even he would be able to fix, were he to survive the next thirty seconds, that is. Which, he doesn't. "Bye, everybody," is the last thing he manages to utter, though it comes as a terrifying roar of orange as, thankfully, he lets go of Aliza's arms and collapses into cinders. "Okay, I get it, we hurryin'," Shaniqua nods, gripping Mike even tighter, "Haul ass, bitch!" Thankful, and trying to push the image of what she just saw firmly out of her head as quickly as she can, Aliza does exactly that, and she and the ex-whore are finally able to get the feebly stirring FBI agent safely out of the burning building. As safe as one can be, that is, when a bullet is currently lodged within one's internal organs. "Aliza, is that you?" a familiar voice calls. It's Huberd, waiting by the chopper, with the rest of the backup currently fleeing in their siren-ringing cars with either members of Celeste's organization cuffed up in the back, or innocent partygoers in need of rescue. Quinnson, for instance, is pleading just how not guilty she is in all of this, while one houseboy shows another the funny selfie he was able to get of him and the burning Celeste right before the entire mansion set ablaze, and they're both giggling with one another on their way to jail. (Kathryn throws up cake or something, wherever she is.) But Huberd and the chopper remain, and he squints through the bright light of the fire to see exactly what's going on. "Who's that?" he wonders, in reference to Shaniqua Mae, "And what's that you're both... oh." He's just seen the wounded Detective Cage, and rushes to help the two black women load him onto the chopper. "Huberd, thank God," Aliza exclaims, "I never, ever thought I'd be so relieved to see you." "You and me both," he comments, and Shaniqua, Mike's blood on her palm, cups Huberd's butt as he takes over her position in dragging the detective along and comments, "You're kinda cute." "He's gay, nimrod," Aliza sighs, but Shaniqua shrugs, "Daz okay. We'll just use my other set of genitals. You like chocolate milk, gayboy?" Huberd shudders, but eventually they're all aboard the helicopter where he promises a first-aid kit is nearby, and Aliza finds it, removes a cloth, and shoves it in Shaniqua Mae's hand. "Here," she insists, and the whore begins wiping her arm, asking when the injection's coming. "No, wait, don't tell me, I wanna be shocked," she beams, closing her eyes, but Aliza moves her arm for her and has her cover up Mike's gunshot hole. "Shut up, and keep pressure on the wound," the Chief insists, while Huberd gets up in the front and begins flying them all to safety, getting the chopper in the air right as the mansion undergoes a more explosive finish to its fire for sheer dramatic effect.
Inside, Celeste's dead body continues to burn, burn, burn like the bitch she is, and her stolen Businesswoman of the Year award shatters from the heat along with the rest of her collection of crystal ashtrays. The vibrator used to kill her rests nearby, buzzing like mad and lit like a cigarette. It looks like a houseboy was able to write something derogatory on her forehead before fleeing to safety. We pan over to reveal: In your ass, n-- The body is eviscerated by the aforementioned final blast.
"How long I gotta do this?" Shaniqua whines as she continues to press down on Mike's torso with the cloth, and Aliza looks back to her to say, "Until we get to a hospital." Shaniqua responds, "Ooh, 'cause my hemorrhoids are actin' up again? Gee, thanks." "No, dummy, 'cause that man right there is bleedin' the fuck out!" the Chief yells, turning away from her rival so that she may speak to Huberd up front. Mike gives another stir - a groan - a surefire sign that he's still alive, and Shaniqua squeals some, while Aliza just smiles before asking her inferior, "Since when did you know how to fly one of these?" "I've already been asked that, I refuse to reiterate myself," Huberd tells her as he continues making his way through the skies of Wikerly Hills; the town sign can be seen from afar, and Aliza is somewhat marveled to be seeing it from a view like this. "I'd have been faster to your rescue," Huberd admits, and Aliza says, "Well, yeah, if you didn't go to the extraness of draggin' a helicopter outta... hey, where the fuck we been keepin' this helicopter anyway?" "I once fit one up my--" Shaniqua tries to contribute, only for Aliza to raise a hand to silence her. "That's not the reason, anyway," Huberd says, "Joy caught me, before I left. Said she identified the weird substance in Henry's cocaine." "Oh?" Aliza is interested to hear, and Huberd tells her, "Yeah. Get a load of this. It was rat poison." "Rat poison?" Aliza questions, as though something familiar is hitting her, and Huberd nods, adding, "That's not all, though. It was hidden under traces of breast milk, which unto itself had a bunch of other awful chemicals in it. No wonder it took her so long to identify. It probably..." But Aliza has stopped listening. She's gone into a state of catatonia, as the words of Antwon Kennedy - words spoken the day he died, in fact - start to echo through her mind... "I was drugged. She had, like, rat poison booby milk or some shit. Spiked ma pruno with it. I swear."... and suddenly she utters, "Shaniqua..." She turns around, to see if the dutty slag is still applying pressure to Mike's wound, but she isn't there. Aliza is confused, and turns around again, to see that Shaniqua has just given Huberd a swift karate chop to the back of the head and he has now fallen face-down into the controls, unconscious, while she says, "Mae I?" "You... you killed Henry?!" the Chief can't even begin to comprehend, while Shaniqua just looks at her hand, amazed, and comments, "Wow. Those fighting lessons from Juanita Kwon's clan paid off real good. I'm like a black ninja." Aliza begins to move backwards, slowly, suddenly aware of the fact that Mike is now exposed and continuing to bleed out, and hasn't stirred in a little while. However, Shaniqua slaps her across the face before she can move much further. "Dammit, are you tryna kill all of us now?" Aliza yells, "You just knocked out the damn pilot!" "He was revealin' ma' truths! What the fuck choice did I have?!" "Wait for us to land, you dumb bitch!" "And have you arrest me? Nuh-uh..." "God, you're stupid..." "Oh yeah?" Shaniqua questions, and then she thinks about it, and realizes, "Oh. Yeah. But still! I was smart enough to pull off a murder, wasn't I?" "I... can't believe it," Aliza admits, lying there, cupping her cheek. "Well, believe it," Shaniqua says proudly, "And, even though we losin' trajectory 'n' shit 'n' about to crash into OJ-knows-where, I'mma take the time to explain it all, 'cause aidunno dat jus' feels right..." Aliza sighs, while Shaniqua clears her throat (and a li'l bit of cum dribbles out):
So I built up a certain immunity to ma' own special brand o' rat poison from when I worked duh cruise ship, back after yo' Momma paid me to pursue Antwon proper...
We are again shown the moment of Shaniqua licking her lips at the first glimpse of Antwon at that New Chicago harbor, before her pimp stuffs her into her suitcase (see "A Little Valentine's Date"). And, unbeknownst to us before, Rochelle was able to spot this momentarily, meaning that, later, when Aliza and her then fiancé have boarded, the faux-wheelchair-bound old woman is able to approach the pimp and explain, "I 'on't want that no-good lowlife marryin' into ma' family. So if you could get yo' prosty here to come between them the only way she know how," she offers him a big ol' wad of cash, "Dat'd be jus' fine." The pimp accepts the cash and nods, kicking the suitcase to allow Shaniqua to know she has a new mission. She screams, because his foot just hit her in the boob. "I hope this is the last fucked-up situation I ever gotta be a part of..." Rochelle sighs.
Coz I weren't exactly earnin' ma' keep as a whore on dat ship, but I sure kept dem rats at bay...
We see Shaniqua flash a table of old men enjoying their cruise, hoping to get a paying customer, but they all just scream and run away. Meanwhile, a few tables over, a group of women scream and run away because they've just seen a rat scurrying under their buffet, and the captain scratches his head in shame wondering what he's going to do about this little problem. However, Shaniqua sees it as an opportunity... for a free dinner, as she goes back to her pimp's cabin and begins mixing together a concoction and a makeshift rat-trap constructed from her last bra, a chunk of cheese (curdled breastmilk) to drip the poison onto as bait.
Cap'n turned a blind eye to ma' whorish ways 'cause my concoction's sah gud, though he din't feed me, and I got maself enough minor doses that it don't even matter when me or mah kids have a cheeky sip now and 'gain...
We see one of the rats eating the cheese, and promptly dying thanks to the effects of the poison. Shaniqua then pounces on the thing and tears right into it with her teeth, before allowing her newest newborn to latch onto her titty and start suckling. The baby goes a tad soporific afterwards, which is around the time Shaniqua realizes that this could be used to date-rape the man she fancies, and who she's being paid extra to set her sights on.
Not that I ain't a good whore on ma' own merits. I was good 'nuff to get a job workin' fo' Celeste mofo Grier after she approached Antwon.
In her old Burbank shack, Shaniqua is once again seen breast-feeding her and Antwon's newest babe, while the rest of her demonic kids run around doing evil, retarded shit. She's nipping her homemade rat poison from the bottle so that the kid taking sustenance from her right now will just go right to sleep, and that's the point that there's a knock at the door. She drops her baby and answers it - boob still out and leaking - to none other than Celeste Grier, who, despite her disgust, says, "Catch," and tosses her a baggie of heroin. "Brown suga'!" Shaniqua's eyes widen with glee, and Celeste tells her, "Indeed. I promised Mr. Vargas I'd supply for his family, after all." "Mr. who? You Antwon's new slut? 'Caus I 'on't know where he is lately, and he needs tuh provide for his family!" At this, one of her kids accidentally sets themselves on fire, and Celeste reveals, "He's heading to Wikerly Hills. Per my instruction." "Wikerly Hills..." Shaniqua utters, "Imagine all duh corners I could work there." At this, Celeste looks her up and down, and says, "You know... there is a certain quota I'm looking to fulfill within my," she smirks, "modelling agency. Of the... afro persuasion." "Bitch, what the fuck you sayin'? I 'on't know half dem words." It's then that the white bitch cuts to the chase and asks: "Would you like a job?" Shaniqua smiles, understanding this.
But then... that bitch went and fired me! At that old white dude's party!
After bitching out Henry, Celeste is startled to run into Shaniqua and a subset of her children - many of whom are wet after their time spent in the pool - in the halls of the old Del Barrio mansion, now the mayoral mansion for the briefest time. "Why hey boss!" Shaniqua greets excitedly, and Celeste takes a look at her - a real look at her - and admits, "Yeah. So this isn't working out." "Wh-what?" Shaniqua asks, confused, and Celeste, sparking up a cigarette, tells her prostitute, "I deal in classy escorts, not lowlife whores. You just tarnish my brand, sweetie, is all." "But... the quota..." "Is something I'm not going to have to worry about now that Henry Washington is Mayor. I have that coke-addicted worm in my pocket, which means I have the whole of Wikerly Hills in there too... which means I no longer have to worry about appealing to everyone. My power is complete enough without their depraved tastes worming their way into my beautiful business." "I... don't understand," Shaniqua says legitimately, at which Celeste blows smoke into her face and tells her, "You're fired. Bubbye now." She walks away, and Shaniqua is left deeply disheartened.
She thought she din't need a black beauty like me on her team 'cause now she had the Mayor all wrapped round her pussy... well, I weren't gon' take that sittin' down! Or standin' up! Or even in the ass!
We see Shaniqua sneaking into the Del Barrio study, and discovering Henry's bricks of cocaine in a drawer. She nips more rat poison, needing a little liquid courage, before squeezing it - from her boob - right into the white powder itself. And she goes for quite the dosage, making this stuff fatal.
Shaniqua watches from the closet as Henry snorts all the coke and just sorta dies - from the poison she put in it, before the cocaine itself actually has the chance to kill him from overdose as he intended. "Oops," she utters.
Except then he went and dropped dead, and I was like, outta there. And hey, Celeste needed his white ass and dumped me 'cause she had it, and now she din't, so I still got to ruin her some. And daz coo'.
Shaniqua then sneaks out of the study, managing to avoid all security footage throughout the house because the lights are off and she's no white bitch. Unlike Kathryn, who heads in soon after. There's also a power cut or something.
So like yeah. I done did it. Surprise, motherfucka!
Aliza is completely and utterly taken aback by the news that Shaniqua Mae has in fact been the Big Bad this entire time, and she asks her, still lying beneath her, "Anything else you'd like to confess to before we meet our fiery freakin' end?" "Oh, yeah," Shaniqua suddenly remembers, "Before the party I phoned up duh ice sculpture place and told 'em to send the big dick instead of a sword. Jus' 'cause I thought dat'd be funny." "Well that was funny..." Aliza admits, "But what the fuck!" "I know, right? So I guess I should kill you now, or...?" "You already have! We're losing altitude!" Aliza screeches, and Shaniqua hangs her head, saying, "Daz a shame... I do so love to be high." "Well then..." she Chief utters, mad as all hell, "Let's see if this sends your ass soarin'." With that, she lifts up her leg and kicks Shaniqua right where the sun don't shine, causing her to screech and quite literally hit the ceiling, before falling back down again onto Mike. "Sorry," Aliza frets, while the shock of it sends a jolt of consciousness back into the detective who's still battling with losing his life, and, as Shaniqua rolls off of him, he becomes aware of the first aid kit nearby as well as the cloth he needs to use to keep the pressure on his wound until he can get to safety... assuming the helicopter doesn't go crashing into the WIKERLY HILLS sign any time soon. Aliza has managed to get back up, but Shaniqua has too, and the two of them stand opposite each other, fists raised, floor shaking, and say simultaneously, "I've been waiting a loooong-ass time fo' dis." And then they both strike. Punches thrown. Kicks delivered. Shaniqua indeed has had fight training from the looks of it, but so has Aliza. The helicopter's trajectory knocks them both into Huberd, and it looks as though it's about to hit that sign's big W; that is, until liza elbows Shaniqua right in the mouth, and her flailing tongue hits the controls in just such a way that the entire vehicle goes soaring upwards again at a sharp turn. The force of it makes Mike scream in pain, which worries Aliza, but at least she knows he's alive... but this is a distraction, of course, and gives Shaniqua ample time to throw the limp Huberd further out her way and lift his leg up to use it as a weapon against the Chief; to kick her in the head with her own inferior's boot. Aliza goes hurtling onto Mike, and asks if he's okay, his blood now staining her, but he's too busy trying to reach out for that first aid kit which slid away from him when the chopper did all its amazing somersaults in the sky. She manages to slide it over to him as she jumps back to her feet, and he begins to weakly unfurl bandages and such, before locating a needle and beginning to assemble it as best he's able. All this has given Shaniqua time to pop quite the squat and, after all the delayed seepage has come gushing out (poor Huberd's face), she launches herself into the air and does a cinema-worthy slow-motion Samurai move that makes Aliza's body spin, literally. But then she sees Mike's needle, which he's finished assembling now, and grows distracted herself, asking, "Can I get a shot o' dat?" Aliza is breathing heavily at this point, while Mike shoves the needle - which contains some much-needed adrenaline - into his leg, and takes a massive, fuel-induced indraught. "Aw, no fair!" Shaniqua insists. But, as the blood-strewn Aliza struggles (but succeeds) to regain her balance and return to her feet, spotting the riot gear Huberd still has on him as she does so, she insists in turn, "No... what isn't fair... is that I've worked so hard to give us sistas a good, heroic name... only fo' thots like you to come in and ruin it." "What can I say?" Shaniqua shrugs, "I played ma' part well. It's jus' like what yo' fiancé done thought: I'm the betta sista." "Well, bitch," Aliza chuckles, reaching behind herself, "I'm blacktastic!" And she whips Huberd's nightstick off of his belt and wields it like the baseball bat she's only oh-too-trusty with, scoring a goddamn homerun as she whacks Shaniqua right upside the head and sends that murderous slut into realms of unconsciousness that not even years upon years of being roofied like mad have allowed her to yet experience. "Now, who always gets her man again?" But Shaniqua can't answer. Looking down at the knocked-out killer, Aliza takes another deep breath, taking a moment to appreciate her victory... until the chopper gives a jolt, and she remembers that she's still in an airborne vessel with no pilot. "Oh, right," she drops the nightstick, moving Huberd further out the way so that he and Shaniqua lie there together, and then she's sitting in the pilot's seat with a headset on and she has her hands on the controls, but, "I... I don't know what to do..." "That's okay," says Mike, who's managed to get up, stumble over the bodies, and collapse behind her, "I do." He's holding himself up by the chair, clutching his wound with gauze and bandages, blood still dribbling on out - he's lost so much by now. "Mike?!" Aliza goes to turn to face him, but she doesn't want to take her eyes off the controls, or where she's actually going. After all, right now they're flying over Wikerly Hills' suburbs, so a crash could kill an inordinate amount of people. Especially since they're already flying so low. "You can't be here... you're hurt... you need to..." "I need to help you land this thing," he points out, "It's okay... I'll talk you through it..." "Me land it?" Aliza questions, in a panic, "I... I can't." "Sure you can," Mike breathes weakly, "You can do... anything... you just defeated a killer." Aliza is crying, frightened, unsure, and Mike manages to place a spare hand on her shoulder. She still doesn't turn to him, as she utters, "I 'on't... I 'on't think..." "You can," Mike promises, squeezing her shoulder harder, "I believe in you. I love you." And that might just be all she needs, to take yet another deep breath, firm her grip on the controls, and cease her panic. "Alright," Mike manages, more drops of blood hitting the helicopter floor, "Now here's what you need to do..." From the outside, we see the haywire chopper steady in the air, as Aliza makes her so-far successful debut as a pilot. It seems that home is where the heart is, for the heat of all this drama has led her right back to the overhead of Fanon Drive, where the residents all come out to watch in awe... and panic, because what the fuck's happening? Silvia and Michelle stand outside the Del Barrio mansion, while Wilma stands outside the Winters' mansion, commenting, "Ooh, living on this street's already lookin' so excitin'!" Other randos watch from their mansions too. Kathryn, back in her maid's uniform but still with her new sable coat wrapped round herself, also emerges from the Del Barrio mansion, Shaniqua's kids hanging off her ankles and such, and the two middle-aged women are left to wonder where in the hell she came from - to which she shrugs, meaning a child falls off of her. And then it happens. Mike's talk is deft enough, and Aliza's ability to do anything she puts her mind to is even defter, for the chopper safely and swiftly lands right in the middle of Fanon Drive, and the residents doth clap for their amazing Chief of Police. "I... I did it..." Aliza utters, finally turning to Mike as he tells her proudly, "You sure did." But then his adrenaline gives way, and he becomes the third unconscious person aboard the now landed vehicle. "Wow... she sure is something, huh?" Kathryn finds herself admitting as she munches Silvia's fried chicken, and Silvia agrees, "Yup. It's amazing nobody was hurt." And then it's realized that the tail of the chopper has in fact torn right through the new Winters' mansion, basically cutting it directly in half, and it chooses until right about now to collapse in on itself in a heap of rubble. Wilma, as she stands there, covered in the dust of the home she spent so much on renovating, is utterly stunned, and begins to clutch her left arm. "Oh, for fuck's sake," she says, exasperated, before quickly dropping dead of a heart attack. Meanwhile, Aliza removes her headset in order to crouch beside Mike's dying self, weeping at his side, "No... don't die, I... I love you too, okay? So you can't die, you can't--" She's interrupted by the sound of a needle being administered, as Shaniqua Mae comes around and hits herself up with the second shot of adrenaline that Mike could really do with right now. "Ooh, daz some good stuff!" she yells, before hopping off the chopper and onto the street, "Ciao fo' now, piggy!" Aliza rolls her eyes, cutting off her tears, as Huberd begins to come to as well, "What happened?" he wonders. "Phone an ambulance," the Chief insists, gesturing Mike as she stands up, "I gotta make like Usain and Bolt." She too leaps from the chopper, Shaniqua already having had time to run a little, and, in her panic, it seems as though she's heading towards the Del Barrio mansion - to her kids. "Come on, babies! Come with Mama now!" she yells as they all trample Kathryn, and Silvia and Michelle just stand there confused, following Shaniqua inside at an ample pace. "What's... going on?" asks a stirring Sadie as she sits up, touching her face and immediately recoiling from the pain of the severe beating it's endured, which has been done in a way so skilled that it hurts like no pain has ever hurt before without leaving a single mark or bruise. Go Michelle. Or go Aliza, rather, as she too runs towards that fateful mansion. "It always... comes back... to this place," she breathes as she sprints, also running past Kathryn and saying, "What up!" as she dashes past. Kathryn doesn't even say anything. She just lies there, chicken grease on her face, enjoying her coat and clutching her stomach, finally asking her half-black fetus, "Are you dead yet?" "Come with me, babies! Come with me to freedom!" Shaniqua is yelling as she barges through the mansion, while Sadie spots the cop who follows her in and so begins limping out towards the backyard in order to avoid persecution. Aliza sees that Shaniqua and her kids are going up the stairs, and so she follows, follows, follows, all the way to the study, where the balcony doors are busted open and Shaniqua realizes what she has to do in order to escape. "A'ight, one by one now, into the pool. Shondelle Number Seven, go! Antwon, Jr., Jr., you next!" She is throwing her kids off the balcony and into the pool, Sadie screaming down below as each black child makes a splash and covers her in water, which she tries to shake off herself but can't because of her now terrible joint pain. Aliza is standing in the study now, no kids left, while Shaniqua is halfway over the railings, telling the Chief, "Catch me if you can." "Now where have I heard that before?" Aliza questions, before running at the whore and leaping at her, Shaniqua too shocked and startled to move. It's then that the two black women fall together, locked in a hostile embrace, and land in the pool at exactly the same time, the kids all now basically having a party and enjoying the fact that they don't float. The water has turned brown. Sadie vomits into a teacup. Another catfight ensues, but it isn't a long one, for Aliza basically grabs Shaniqua by the weave and whacks her forehead into the pools edge, before climbing on out, eloquent as hell, and drags the killer out after her. The children watch in awe as the Chief of Police then pins their mother to the ground, taking out her trusty pair of handcuffs and binding her wrists behind her back. "Cuffs... cost... extra..." is all the woozy-ass Shaniqua is able to say at the moment, while Aliza reels off, "Shaniqua Mae, you are under arrest for the murder of Henry Washington. Anything you say can and will blah blah blah." And this entire, sheer display of blackness is what finally does it. Sadie's face begins to droop to one side, her speech slurred as she murmurs, "Oh, cwap," and Michelle and Silvia finally rediscover just where that bitch had gotten to as they too come out into the backyard and witness her have a stroke right there and then. "Lucky the ambulance is here," Silvia notes, hearing the sirens which are there to rescue Mike, and Michelle turns to her and asks, "Is it?" "Now," says Aliza, as she lifts Shaniqua back up to her feet, "Time to haul yo' ass to jail. Mystery motherfuckin' solved." And Henry's loved ones watch, now understanding, as his murderer is taken into custody. "Mama!" each and every one of her children wish they could yell, but that would make them all into recurrers, and so they stay quiet.
Just like Mike, a little ways in the future, as the only sound heard around him is the beeping of hospital monitors. Right now, his eyes are closed, and he's lying back in a bed swathed in a gown, still unconscious from his brush with death... that is, until the point that he's not, and his eyes begin to flicker open, and the woman at his bedside exclaims, "Oh, thank fuck I thought yo' half-white ass was never gon' wake up." "A-Aliza?" Mike is able to utter, before everything comes into focus and he's able to turn, seeing her there. "Duh!" she exclaims, "Who the shit else? Nurse! Can I get a motherfuckin' nurse!" "You cuss... a lot..." he acknowledges, and Aliza shrugs, "Funny thing is, for a while there I din't cuss like at all, and neither did any of the people around me. Still 'on't know why. Weird times." "Maybe it's another mystery you could solve," Mike jokes, and Aliza smiles, saying, "Naw. I know what happened. Errybody stopped bein' pussy-ass bitches." "You especially," Mike nods, as he sits up. "Hm?" the Chief of Police inquires, and Mike commends, "You were so brave the way you went up against Celeste... against Shaniqua... landing that chopper..." "I couldn't have done it without you," Aliza figures, but Mike shakes his head - "I was just the voice in your ear. You... are something else entirely." She blushes, and so decides to change the subject, saying, "I still can't believe Shaniqua Mae dunnit. I mean, my next guess was gonna be like the Deputy Mayor or some shit." "Oh yeah..." Mike utters, "Who has been Mayor all this time? Seems they woulda had a very obvious motive." But Aliza shrugs, "I 'on't know. I guess we forgot to make it a possibility. Aw well, don't matter now." "Amen," Mike nods, then taking a real look at her... sitting there... so beautiful... "Have you been here all this time?" "I mean, I went to get snacks and stuff," she admits, "But yeah, pretty much." "After how I treated you..." "I deserved a good yellin' at," Aliza tells him, "What I helped cover up..." "You don't have to worry," Mike promises, "It's never coming out. This town needs you far too much for me to blow the whistle on any of that. You proved that." "Thanks," she says genuinely. "And... to be honest... I think I need you too..." "Say what now?" Aliza questions, "Because of me, you got shot! You almost died!" "But I didn't," Mike points out, "I'm a survivor. I see that now." "You sure?" she wonders, "'Cause I was like, fo' sure you was a gonner. I mean, yo' name is Mike and you got a bullet put in you. Jus' like Mike from Desperate Housewives. Or Michael from Jane the Virgin. Or Michael from Foxy Brown. Heck, even Michaelito Stappordez in The Passions of Falta; it ended well for exactly none o' those guys... that's why I couldn't leave yo' goddamn bedside." "Ah, see, I thought it was for another reason," Mike admits. "What's that now?" Aliza asks, and he blushes, revealing to her, "I heard what you said, after you landed the chopper." "Oh..." Aliza remembers, "That. Well, you said it first." "I know I did," he smiles, and there's a moment of silence as his smile goes reciprocated, the two of them making eye contact. "But," he goes on, "as I was saying, having survived that whole thing, it made me realize... it's super boring being behind a desk. And I don't have to be afraid. I... I wanna get back into the field. With you." "You..." Aliza breathes, "didn't die." "I'm... aware?" "No, I mean," she explains, "you've just been defying expectations from the very start, haven't you? I mean, first I thought you was gay, then you turned out to be this badass detective, and you had these methods that were different than mine but they actually helped - though mine were still way better and way cooler - and now... now..." "I wanna stay in Wikerly Hills," Mike affirms, "as a cop. If you'll have me." At this, Aliza outstretches her hand, rather formally taking hers in his: "Detective Cage, it would be my honor." "Thank you, Chief Little," he shakes her hand in return, but the formality is broken when the handshake lingers, transforming into simple, gentle hand-holding. "Where's that damn nurse, huh?" Aliza then asks, and Mike figures, "She's taking her time, I guess. Like I did." "Are you sure you wanna be around me?" Aliza then thinks to ponder, "Knowing... what I did..." "Aliza," he says very seriously, "when I thought your life was in danger, I stopped caring what you did. So if you're asking if I wanna be around you... the answer is a resounding, unequivocal - and I know, you don't have to tell me I'm being faggoty - yes." Aliza begins to well up, but fights it, smiling even wider. "Well in that case," she presses on, "Maybe you'd like to... I 'on't know... go out for coffee and donuts sometime?" Mike's smile grows too, as he tells her, "It's a date." The nurse finally enters the room, and so the two future lovers break apart, with Aliza taking this opportunity to reach for her purse and take out her diary, having even more to add to her jampacked entries of late.
Dear diary... I actually did it. I solved the biggest goddamn case of my career. And, I ain't gonna lie, it feels good.
Aliza is shown sitting in her office, writing up the official case files. Her father's war medal gleams in her eye, and then his photograph seems to smile at her. "You did it, ma' li'l panther. I always knew you could," his voice echoes.
I came to a few realizations about myself, and my predecessor, and I realized that I definitely don't need no fairytale ending thrust upon me... 'cause doing what I do, I'm already living mine.
"I figured it was high-time I got over the guy who killed my Mama," Aliza is heard admitting to Silvia in her kitchen, the two of them enjoying some glasses of iced tea, though Silvia soon spits hers out. "You... know about that?" she questions nervously, and Aliza shrugs, "Sure. I also figured out, in retrospect, that Justine Dussault killed Jose Sanchez, and Joanna killed her husband, and I know you killed Jorgio - good on ya', gurl. And that Joe killed Justine. But the world is better with the lies in place, Lord knows I get that. And another thing... something I think you know already..." "What's that, dear?" Silvia asks, having gone a little pale, and Aliza grins, "Joe is still alive. And Joanna. They're out there, somewhere, livin' their happily ever after... so I think it's time I got mine." At this, Silvia's warmth returns, and she places a loving hand on Aliza's shoulder, telling her, "You're absolutely right." "And I think the reason I had such a problem movin' on," the Chief admits, "is because I spent all this time thinkin' that I was second best, yanno? That I was the consolation Wikerly Hills got chucked at it 'cause it couldn't have Joseph DeWar no more. But yanno what? If recent events have taught me anything... I'm pretty damn good." "Cheers to that," Silvia raises her iced tea glass, and the two ladies clink them together.
I'll get to keep living it, too, thanks to Mikey boy keeping a lid on... things.
Mike and Aliza are seen working together to load the trash bags containing Nate Ford's remains into an incinerator. "Wanna say a few words?" Aliza asks as Michael's father is blasted out of existence, but he decides, "Nah."
"You're really leaving, huh?" Seb asks Mike as he watches him pack up his desk, "You never even told me what you found out about your father..." "Oh, it was nothing really," Mike shrugs off, "I found something much better."
And as far as the case itself goes, I actually managed to catch up with Shaniqua Mae a while back. It helped me get closure, I think.
"You haven't seen the last o' me, piggy!" Shaniqua Mae vows from behind the glass as she and Aliza chat in the prison visitor's room via phones. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Aliza sighs. "I mean it!" Shaniqua promises, her orange jumpsuit having been strategically torn to showcase all of her zero assets, "Shaniqua Mae will rise again! Better! Stronger! Blacker! And you better watch out, Aliza Little, 'cause I'm cummin'! I'm cummin' fo' you, and I ain't never gonna stop! Not until I get ma' revenge!"
She died of syphilis two months later.
Aliza rolls her eyes and hangs up the phone, exiting the prison while Shaniqua is manhandled by guards and loves every second.
I ain't the only one getting closure. Silvia started making iced tea again, along with a whole bunch of other cool shit.
"Ding dong!" Silvia announces as she heads on into the old Del Barrio mansion with a wicker basket of assorted bake goods in tow, only to be met by a rather handsome, muscular black man. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you the new butler?" she wonders. "Oh, don't mind him," Michelle Washington announces as she enters the foyer, giving the muscular man a hefty kiss, "He's just my boyfriend." She then orders her boyfriend to go into the kitchen and fix her a white wine spritzer, and he goes to do this, while Silvia checks out his ass and mutters, "Damn." "I know, right?" Michelle giggles, "I figure, I'm rich, and every other man in this town got themselves some young, gold-digging arm candy... I may as well finally start having some fun with all that wealth my daddy left me. That isn't all, though: announcement time!" "Ooh, spill!" Silvia encourages as the two of them head out to the pool, and Michelle reveals, "Since Quinnson got heartily fired for her involvement in all that Celeste business, the board is looking for a new judge, and I've put my hat in the ring." "Good for you, girl!" Silvia high-fives her. "Finally, a judge in this town who won't be corrupt," Michelle beams, and Silvia is almost awed at the thought. "So," Michelle then acknowledges the basket, "what's your thing this week?" "Oh, I don't have a thing anymore," Silvia reveals, "I don't need one. I think... I was just overcompensating. I led such a crazy life, I guess I wanted to pretend I had some sort of control by going all... over Stepford. But, it wasn't normal, and I'm working on that. So here is an assortment - a peace offering - for you." "Why... thank you!" Michelle exclaims, thrilled, "And thank God, because that housewife thing you had going on was weird." "Uh-huh," Silvia chuckles as Michelle takes the basket, but then she turns deadly serious and adds, "But of course, I will need the basket back."
She and Michelle both decided to enter the political game in the end. And I have to say, that is one lady who had my vote through and through.
"Can you believe it, folks?!" Quinnson is heard exclaiming on The Wikerly Report, "Silvia Montgomery has just been elected Mayor of Wikerly Hills! Who knew she had it in her?!" And, on TV, Silvia is seen giving an interview in her immaculate home, saying she'd like to thank her voters... her loved ones... her sons...
I'm sure it shouldn't have even been allowed, but fuck it.
"I just love the New Wikerly Hills," says Michelle as she and Silvia have regular afternoon tea, and Silvia nods, but soon changes the subject, having her own agenda: "I know you said you weren't gonna be a corrupt judge... but do you think you could do just one teency little favor for me? An appeal of sorts?" "An appeal for who?" the honorable Justice Washington questions.
"And it is with great honor that I unveil the NEW WIKERLY HILLS!" Silvia is heard announcing up on the sign which reads just this. She cuts a ribbon, and people clap, but being so close to the bounds of the town means that her bejeweled ankle bracelet starts to beep, and she asks, "Tyson, sweetie, could you be a dear!" "Yes, Ma!" her assistant, Tyson Jepsen, exclaims, "I mean, boss." With that, he takes a pair of pliers and snips the fucker off, the both of them now free.
Because if there's something else I've learned doing this job, and this should probably be off the record, it's that law and justice are two different things.
We see Tyson casually chilling at his desk, over at Silvia's mayoral office, while she is on the phone, engrossed in important work to do with improving her town. Meanwhile, across said town, Sadie Washington is also chilling... in the home where Tyson was previously being kept. Her face is all fucked up and lopsided thanks to the stroke, and she's surrounded by every kind of human being she despises. She's even been donated one of Rochelle's old wheelchairs. If her newfangled paralysis didn't inhibit her from being able to scream, that's exactly what she would be doing, 24/7. "You brought this on yourself," Michelle's words echo through her head, as she remembers lying in a hospital bed, her stepmother's black hand touching her cheek, at the same time that Mayor Montgomery was down the hall checking her foster son out forever.
Hopefully I can help merge them from now on, though. With their parents gone, I managed to pick off a few of Shaniqua and Antwon's less-retarded kids, and they're making for some promising new recruits.
"Freeze, dirtbag!" a few of them are seen doing junior police training under Huberd's provision (that line was said in sign language, by the way, very impressive with a weapon in tow), except he actually puts his hands up at their demand and cries, "Aaah, take whatever you want!"
As for the others, well... there was a whole new addition to that family...
"IT HURTS LIKE AN ABORTION!" a nine-month pregnant Kathryn screeches from her hospital bed as the doctor delivers her child, fathered by the late Antwon Kennedy. "Why did I have to forget to have one of those?" she breathes during one of the slower moments of labor. "It's okay, you can do it!" Aliza encourages as Kathryn grips her hand. "Thank you, mommy!" the blonde exclaims, and Aliza's like, "Yeah no we ain't there." Labor intensifies again, and Kathryn's back to screeching (as is Aliza with the pressure now on her hand - "Ooh, ya' cunt!"), and pushing, until, finally, the cries of a baby are heard. Aliza's hand is freed, and she admires the baby while standing to one side. It's a boy, and it's cleaned up and handed to Kathryn, who holds it in a blue blanket and cradles it in her arms. "Just like Antwon," Aliza smiles. Kathryn stares into her son's face, and it's like something changes within her, this mixed-race little bundle - this little gift from God - now needing and depending on her, and loving her unconditionally, gripping her finger oh-so-tight as he opens his beautiful eyes a flicker, just for her. The maternal bond, the most intense bond in the world, a bond which could work miracles, is just starting to take-- "You fucking nigger," she tells it.
But they seem happy enough. And I guess Kathryn succeeded in regaining her fame in the end. Good for her?
With no one left to look after them, the Mae-Kennedys are all seen running around Kathryn's seagull-shit-covered shack on the outskirts of Wikerly Hills, all having been adopted by her. Her one biological child continues to be cradled in her porky arms, for it seems she lost none of her pregnancy weight, and continued to pack on the pounds in the kinds of processed snacks she'd started to grow accustomed to after making her grand return to this town. She is now morbidly obese, but at least she has her sable coat, which Shaniqua's kids help her into as she breastfeeds (its seams split against her back fat, but oh well). It's then that we notice the cameras, for all this is being filmed currently for television. And, at her own house, deciding to relax at the end of a long day with a nice martini, Aliza tunes in for yet another episode of the new hit reality show Here Comes Kathy Boo Boo, and boy does she just love it.
But this ain't those fuckers' story. It's mine. Which is why I'm gonna send this diary to a friend of mine, because I think all the shit I've been through needs a good deal of re-imagining. You know, on the big screen and all.
Indeed, Aliza is seen mailing off her diary entries to a certain famous butler in Hollywood, and, next thing we know, she and Mike are walking the red carpet together at the premiere to Renato Duarte's latest cinematic masterpiece, entitled A. Little: Devious (starring Elizabeth Davis, in blackface). Its slogan reads, "The hero we've all been waiting for."
Aliza and Mike are seen sitting in their joint cop car while on patrol, parked outside that great place Mike said he knew which served donuts late into the night, back when he and the Chief of Police first met. They share a quick kiss, before continuing to enjoy their to-go coffee and sugary snacks. But then the radio pipes up, and Huberd lets them know of a crime that's been called in not too far away. "That's our cue," Mike tells his hunni, who smiles before answering the radio with, "It's cool. We're on it."
...but I'm me. Aliza Little, Chief of Police. And I'm fuckin' incredible.
"Over and out," she adds, before turning on the siren and racing off to do what she does best - fight crime, blacktastically.
Who killed Henry Washington? How did Henry die, if not from impalement? Where's the rest of Henry's note and what does it say?