Previously on Scream Queens...
PETE: Be careful. I'd really like to kiss you again.
I'm saving my energy for Black Friday doorbusters
tomorrow morning.
I can prove that you're the only person
in this room we know for a fact is a murderer.
How about you do the honors?
(knife whirring)
Dinner is served.
(all screaming)
CHANEL: Oh, the holidays.
That festive time of year where everyone's
decked out in their Christmas finest.
The season of joy and love and presents
begins when the clock strikes midnight.
♪ Time, time, time ♪
Ringing in the greatest non-Chanelloween holiday
of the year: Black Friday.
"But Chanel", you're saying,
"I thought you got all your clothing hand-delivered
by A-list designers." True.
But Black Friday isn't about me.
♪ ♪
Black Friday is about buying deliberately cheap,
totally forgettable Christmas gifts for friends.
The obvious cheapness of the gift makes them question
our friendship and makes them way easier
to manipulate as they try desperately
to get back on my good side.
♪ See what's become of me... ♪
Thank you, Chanel, thank you.
♪ All my possibilities... ♪
Is this black toilet paper?
Yes. Merry Christmas, Number Five.
Then, once I've bought a crap gift that will undermine
their confidence in our friendship,
I reward myself with an amazing gift for me.
Amazing. A pair of mink albino boy shorts.
Purchased for me,
by me.
(slow-motion grunting)
And there's truly no better whale watching
than a good ol' American doorbuster.
You know, the kind that provides dangerous stampedes
that dominate YouTube for at least a week
and make me laugh and laugh.
I bribe the dude who deals weed off the loading dock
to let me in a half hour early.
This really sends them into a frenzy.
No!
Torturing these soulless manatees
of senseless consumerism brings me so much joy.
And isn't joy what the holiday season's all about?
(all clamoring)
ZAYDAY: At first I was like,
"What a weird turkey."
And then it clicked.
Like... "Damn, that's a head."
Yeah, I kn... I know. It's very, very upsetting.
But then I noticed the smell.
And I'm like,
"Gigi's roast head
actually smells kind of delicious."
Mm.
Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Where do you ladies think you're going? We were just
served a roasted head for Thanksgiving.
I mean, now it's almost midnight.
Yeah. And you know what starts at midnight? Black Friday.
That's why we're doorbusting.
No. You're not going anywhere,
not until I get ahold of the police.
Okay, at this point, who cares if the police show up?
Chanel's right. All they're gonna do
is look at Gigi's severed, roasted head
and say that they have no proof that it is in any way
related to the killings at campus.
Shut up, Number Five. When you agree with me,
it makes me question whether I actually agree with me.
Plus, we're never gonna know who cooked Gigi and put her head
on that platter. Any one of us could be the killer.
At one point or another tonight, on this delightful
holiday evening, every one of us was alone
and had access to that kitchen.
Got to run, or we'll be late
for the midnight hippo stampede at Walmart.
No, no, no.
You listen to me, you little bitch.
I am gonna take this opportunity
to be the strong parental influence you have never had.
You are gonna march
over to that sofa right now
and you're gonna sit down
because you are in a time out.
(chuckles) I'm sorry. Did you just put me on a time out?
You do realize I'm not seven, right?
Let's review the facts, shall we?
You have been utterly powerless
to protect us from e Red Devil.
Hmm. Sort of a strange coincidence, isn't it?
Seeing as how your primary motivation as dean
of this school has been to shut down Kappa House.
Well, behold how badly you've failed.
Kappa House is alive
and well, and it's your university
that's been shut down.
I think it's pretty safe to assume that your career is over.
Now, if you'll excuse us,
we're going to the mall to exercise our patriotic right
to join hundreds of thousands of our fellow
out-of-breath Americans in sweatpants
as they make frenzied, ill-thought-out purchases
of cheap, crappy garbage they can't afford and don't need.
To deny us of that right would be un-American.
Let's go, sluts.
Try not to murder anyone else while we're gone,
Dean Carpetmunsch.
MAN: I want to know what I'm being charged with.
OFFICER: You drove your pickup truck
through the front window of a Best Buy.
You killed or maimed people. Let's go.
GRACE: Where do you think his office is?
Detective!
We called to report another murder
but no one has come to check about it yet.
You know it's the busiest night of a cop's year, right?
Every available man's working the retail beat.
Well, what about you?
My girlfriend was murdered.
The killer cut her head off
and tried to serve it to us for Thanksgiving.
Sounds awful,
but I'd keep that to yourself.
Pretty much always,
the boyfriend's the prime suspect.
Oh. Well, I was about to break up with her.
I mean, she was driving me nuts.
You're not really helping yourself.
You guys are wasting your time talking to me.
I was just fired.
They fired the entire homicide department
and the chief of police.
Most of the uniformed cops out there are working
on a volunteer basis because they get backed up inside
if they don't crack a few skulls every day.
Okay, h-how can they fire everyone?
Well...
the mayor got pretty pissed that we had zero leads
on that whole Red Devil thing
and we spent our budget for the month
on the ghost hunting supplies.
There's a killer on the loose and you're telling us
this town has no police force?
Oh, oh, don't get too worked up about it.
They're interviewing some tip-top candidates
right now as we speak
to take over. And, uh,
I'm opening my own interior design company.
So if any of you need some
interiors designed...
It's always been my dream.
Well...
if you guys'll excuse me...
I got a lot more packing to do.
Should I get Number Five a pair of 99-cent brass studs
that'll turn her earlobes green and give her an infection
or a pair of $1.99 danglies
that'll get caught on her sweater and tear her earholes?
Hmm. That's a really good question.
Okay, you know what, you guys,
I don't understand why you have to get us the crappiest gifts
possible and then make sure we know about it beforehand
just to ruin the surprise.
Um, hello? The surprise is that you're getting anything at all.
You guys should be happy
you're even on my radar.
I think what Number Five is trying to say is that since
we spent so much time and money picking you out the perfect
Chanel Classic Flap Crocodile Jumbo Purse for you...
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
You dumb bitches got me... Chanel...
a Chanel Classic Flap Crocodile Purse?
Oh, yeah.
That is bizarre. I mean, that's like
bringing pineapples to Hawaii.
You know Uncle Karl
gives me Chanel swag for free, right?
So would you feel the need to waste $13,000
buying me something I already have?
'Cause it's Christmas.
Oh, my God.
Maybe I've got this whole Black Friday thing wrong.
Maybe instead of using my disgusting wealth
to buy my friends crap,
I should use my disgusting wealth to buy my friends
things they would actually enjoy.
Come on, let's get out of here.
Wait, w-where are we going?
To the Chrysler dealership across the street.
I'm buying us all matching pink Jeeps.
Wait, what?
Yes. It's gonna be so fun.
We can take our matching pink Jeeps
on, like, an African safari or something.
How do we know that they're gonna have
four identical pink Jeeps?
Yeah, and how are we gonna get the Jeeps to Africa?
I mean, are we gonna ship them or we gonna take a ferry?
I don't know, Number Five, okay? Stop poking holes
in the pink Jeep idea, please, and just accept the fact
that I'm buying you all pink Jeeps.
Take the win, Number Five. Geez!
What time is it?
Oh, my God. The mall is deserted.
We've been shopping for, like, ever
with no liquids or cotton balls.
It's fine, we'll just find an exit.
Oh, no, we're locked in!
Oh, as if, Number Five.
(screaming)
Oh, my God...
This is all your fault, Number Five!
I'm coming to help you! I'm gonna help you, Chanel!
I'm gonna come and help you.
Oh, no... look!
(all scream)
Wait, look.
(gasping)
Hurry!
(whimpering)
I am Kappa president.
All right, Munsch.
I guess it's finally just me and you.
(elevator whirring)
(elevator bell dings)
Oh, go on and shoot me, hag. It'll just make me
young and skinny forever and you'll still be old.
(shrieking, crying)
Come on, finish me off,
you shriveled, old crone!
DENISE: Hold on, baby girl!
Freeze!
First day
on the job and I caught a killer.
(laughs)
Ain't no way you're getting out of this one, Zayday Williams.
Wait, you have a gun?
I sure do,
'cause I am the new chief of police
in this town. Ow.
They rest of the force got fired 'cause of gross incompetence
and they hired Denise Hemphill, 'cause clearly
I'm the only one
with the sleuthin' skills
to catch a s...
Oh!
Damn, he shot him!
And he getting away!
DENISE: Hey... oh! He... oh, he knocked over that big ol' tree!
Damn! Why didn't I shoot him when I had the chance?
I was just talking so much!
Ladies of Kappa, I'm calling this house meeting to order.
How's your crossbow wound? It's doing very well, thank you.
The arrow missed all major arteries,
and I'm currently rolling on some sweet painkillers.
(sighs): Sisters...
I think it's clear that Dean Munsch is the killer.
Well, I'm not sure it's that clear at all. It's clear.
Dean Munsch has been after me and Kappa House
as an institution since day one.
And she was the only person who knew we were going to the mall.
She knew it would be the perfect place to kill us all.
That means Dean Munsch has been orchestrating
every one of these attacks.
Melanie Dorkus.
Deaf Taylor Swift.
That other security guard.
Predatory Lez.
Roger and Dodger.
Chad's irritating armless friend.
Candle-vlogger.
Black British Guy.
Gigi. Coney the Ice Cream Cone.
White trash Mandy Greenwell.
Ms. Bean.
Hold on. You killed Ms. Bean.
I didn't turn on the deep fryer, bitch!
Like it or not,
we're sisters, and Dean Munsch is not gonna stop
until we're all dead and buried.
We've tried going to the police,
and they've proven they cannot protect us.
So it's time we deal with this problem ourselves.
I sort of feel like we've already been doing that.
What exactly are you proposing?
The only way we're gonna stop the murders
is by killing Dean Munsch.
No.
No way.
Come on, guys,
this is insane.
No, Zayday, it isn't.
Chanel...
I can honestly say that, for once,
I actually agree with you.
I also think that Dean Munsch
is the killer. Thank you,
talking pumpkin.
I have been talking all year
about how I want this house to become a true sisterhood.
I've always had this vision
of a band of sisters who stand together
like an impenetrable community of shields who kept everyone
safe and secure. But sometimes
playing defense isn't enough.
Sometimes, instead of shields, we need swords.
And sometimes to maintain
a strong sisterhood... a sister has to cross a line
she never thought she could cross.
The time has come for me to ask myself,
for all of us to ask ourselves,
how much this house and the girls in it mean to us.
No one is going to help us.
No one is going to stop this until we are all dead.
It's up to us.
And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to stop her.
Dean Munsch has to die.
What?!
Well, I'm sorry, but she is a vindictive, amoral woman
who no one is gonna miss.
HESTER: The question is, how?
How do we murder Dean Munsch?
BOTH: I say we poison her.
Well, then...
I guess it's settled.
This meeting of the Dickie Dollar Scholars
is now called to order.
Uh, Chad? I have no idea what I'm doing here.
Hold up. Earl Grey has to read the minutes
from last week's meeting.
(sighs heavily): That's right.
Earl Grey was murdered.
(sighs)
All right, Pete, you got the floor.
Uh, thanks. Uh... wh...
why did you bring me here?
Well, Pete, as you may or may not know,
my best friend Boone was murdered.
So we're here, reading his will.
Okay, but what does that have to do with me?
"I, Boone Clemens, in the event of my untimely passing,
"do solemnly bequeath the following:
"My awesome Johnny Cash poster,
"where he's biting his lip and giving everyone the finger
"because you know he just don't care about nothin'...
"to Pete Martinez.
Wh-What?! "My awesome Xbox,
"with the Kinect thing that I haven't figured out
"how to hook it up but I hear is so friggin' awesome when you do
to Pete Martinez."
Doesn't make any sense. I... (mutters)
Please! Stop interrupting my dead gay friend Boone!
(sighs)
"My HBO Go password to Pete Martinez.
"The shoebox under my bed that's filled with bottles of lube
"to Pete Martinez. My buttplug,
with the beautiful blue jewel on the business end..."
"...to Pete Martinez."
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on. This is insane.
I barely even knew the guy.
Pete Martinez...
you got some 'splainin' to do.
There's no explaining, okay?
Clearly, the guy was crazy.
Were you and Boone secret gay lovers?!
Did you ever do it in my bed?
Because if you did, we about to get real.
No, w-we were not lovers!
You do not bequeath a shoebox
full of lube
to an acquaintance, Pete Martinez!
He was my source!
He was my source.
Okay? He was my eyes and ears
inside Greek system at this school.
When I decided to study the history of Kappa Kappa Tau,
I went to him... he was my Deep Throat.
So you were gay lovers?
No, we were not gay lovers.
Okay, look, I didn't tell anyone,
'cause I didn't want to blow his cover,
nor mine, for that matter.
I'm an investigative journalist.
Okay, secret friend of Boone,
and possible gay lover, that explains a lot,
but it does not explain all.
And it kind of reminds me of the time,
last year, when you tried to join the Dollar Scholars
despite having no experience with caddying,
and not even a rudimentary knowledge of the game of golf.
So... why do you want to be
a Dickie Dollar Scholar?
Well, you know, I really love the idea
of a bunch of guys from different backgrounds
(slurping) getting together and forming
a brotherhood for life.
But you've never actually played golf.
Um... no.
Have you ever been to a driving range?
Yeah. You know, once, for lunch.
What sort of ab regimen are you rocking, bro?
Sit-ups. Okay...
how many John Mayer albums do you own?
I don't own any John Mayer albums. Look, I'm gonna
be honest with you... you're the worst
Dickie Dollar Scholar pledge candidate I've ever seen.
Worst. You don't know anything about golf,
and you don't even own John Mayer's debut album,
Room for Squares... which makes a lot of sense,
'cause given the fact that you don't even have
a rad ab routine... your body, Pete Martinez,
is not a wonderland.
I think it really chapped your hide,
not becoming a Dickie Dollar Scholar that day.
I think it chapped your hide so much
that you started stalking my sort of hot,
sort of girlfriend Chanel,
for a full year. Well, I'm gonna
let you in on a little secret.
You stalking the chick I was tappin'...
even though I was tappin' a ton of other chicks, too...
that really chapped my hide.
Well, then... I guess the fact
that you and I cannot stand one another
is finally out in the open.
Oh, it's way, way out in the open, jefe.
(scoffs)
So I'm gonna make a proposal.
I'm inviting you to join
the Dickie Dollar Scholars.
What? I mean, any secret friend
and possible gay lover of Boone...
(scoffs) is a friend of mine.
Mmm... no.
I'm sorry, what?
First of all, you're right...
I don't know anything there is to know about golf.
Second... (scoffing chuckle) fraternities suck.
I know this now, and I'm so happy
I never joined one in the first place.
They're cruel, elitist, and probably the reason why
there's a serial killer on this campus in the first place.
So no, Chad, I'm not gonna join your stupid
Dickie Dollar Scholars.
Thanks, anyway.
Name your weapon.
What? What'll it be?
Sabres?
Dueling pistols?
Dude, what are you even talking about?
Well, it's a longstanding Dickie Dollar tradition that,
if you're offered membership in the Dickie Dollar Scholars,
and you refuse membership in the Dickie Dollar Scholars...
you must duel.
So pick your weapon.
You can choose sabres, guns, baseball bats,
small pebbles, spoons...
doesn't matter to me.
What does matter...
is that we will fight...
and we will fight to the death. Thanks, dude,
but... not interested.
Walking away from a duel means
you are forfeiting your life, would-be brother.
You will get murdered, Pete Martinez.
Murdered to death.
Well, I am sorry that took so long, but, you know,
a watched pot never boils.
GRACE: Uh... Sanka?
Yes. Did you know that the word "sanka"
is derived from the French "sans caféine"?
Dean Munsch, first let me say how honored we are
that you've invited us into your hideously furnished home.
What do you want, Chanel?
Well, now that there's no one else around to compare you to,
we've realized that you are kind of an amazing woman.
Like all of the unsolicited advice
you give us is actually really valuable.
We understand that as millennial feminists...
W-Wait a minute.
That's a thing?
Oh, yeah. Totally.
Yeah. Being a millennial feminist
means growing up listening to Taylor Swift say
she doesn't like to think of the world as boys versus girls.
Yes, and then graduating
and entering the workforce, only to realize
that you make 20% less than men for doing the same job.
That's not what feminism was about.
You see? We don't know.
And we want to learn.
All this...
killing has really, um, shown us the importance
of sisterhood... you know, um, how crucial it is
for women to join together.
Wh-Which is why we're pleased
to announce that this is the first meeting
of the Wallace U. Campus Feminist Collective.
Yay! (chuckles)
W-Wait a minute.
Is... is this apple cider?
How did you know that was my favorite?
CHANEL #3: How come all the pictures on the wall are selfies?
Does she not have any friends? CHANEL: Shut up, ho-bag. We're looking
for clues about how to trick her into drinking poison.
Wait. Look at her status.
"Just waiting for my next delicious cup of apple cider.
It's my favorite."
(sniffing)
Oh, it smells amazing.
You know, as an educator,
you just never know...
if you're reaching your students.
Girls, I'm... I'm really touched.
To feminism.
(jars clack)
And what feminism... means to me...
(sloshing)
CHANEL: Where did you get puffer fish venom?
From my puffer fish.
Wait. How do we know how much to put in?
I heard a drop is enough to kill a man instantly.
Better put in the whole thing, just to be sure.
I want to be there when she dies.
(laughs): Oh, wow!
That's bliss!
So, where do we begin?
I interned at Ms. magazine.
(echoing): And, oh, remind me,
I want to show you both the original
Ms. magazine cover... (distorting unintelligibly)
(Munsch continues, echoing unintelligibly)
(echoing): It was the beginning...
(Munsch continues, unintelligibly)
That woman...
(speaking clearly): was Susan Sontag.
And that band
was Baman-Turner Overdrive.
Wow! Girls...
this cider...
Is it... is it homemade?
Yep. Yeah. Because, you know,
I'm getting some notes... um... it's a spice.
Is it nutmeg?
(gasps)
(burps)
(laughing): Well, yes.
Absolutely nutmeg. Excusez-moi.
Girls, since you have no other classes,
I am going to ask that you write 10,000 words
on the militant suffragette movement
as expressed in the WSPU hunger strikes of 1912.
Thanks, girls. Bottoms up.
(Munsch gulping)
There was enough poison in there to kill three Dean Munsches.
It makes no sense.
And now I have to write a stupid term paper.
Maybe this was a blessing. You're not a killer, Grace.
Of course I'm not. I am like a soldier at war.
I am killing to stop more killing.
It's totally justified.
But you're not a soldier,
and these aren't the beaches of Normandy.
This is Wallace University in 2015,
- and killing Dean Munsch is against the law. - Okay.
But what about moral law?
What if I didn't do anything when I know I could
and then...
and then Dean Munsch killed you?
Oh, that would be hard for you?
Uh, yeah, that would be hard for me.
Obviously.
(chuckles)
Oh, uh... (chuckles)
I have to tell you something.
Okay. So,
Chad Radwell invited me to join the Dickie Dollar Scholars.
Why? You don't play golf.
I don't do anything they do there.
I don't "rage" on Tuesday nights or have competitions
- about how many girls I can have sex with in one day. - Ugh.
Sometimes I kind of side with the Red Devil.
I mean, he's cleaning all the mess and filth
of this place in a way no dean or exposé ever could.
I, I... I-I'm sorry. That...
came out wrong. Uh...
(stammers) What I'm trying
to say is guys join fraternities
to get a sense of structure in their lives.
Problem is the structure they're buying into
is-is antiquated. It's...
misogynistic and hierarchical and dangerous.
I have structure.
I have my work at the paper,
my dreams of working at Slate.com,
and I have you.
And that's all you need?
That's all I need.
Hmm. Hmm.
(gentle chuckle)
(pants)
(quietly): Let's do this. (sighs)
Grace...
I love you.
I-I... I don't know.
I mean, I want to.
You know that. I really do. I just, um...
I don't think I'm in the right headspace right now.
Okay.
You're worth the wait.
You know, maybe after we kill De Munsch.
No... no, Grace... What?
you can't do this.
Justified or not, you're not a killer.
You're a rare breed, one of the true good guys.
Even if Dean Munsch is the Red Devil
and you kill her, then she may lose,
but this house wins.
The worst parts of this house,
the parts you have been fighting so hard to get rid of.
And if you kill her, you will become
those parts.
And that...
would break my heart.
(sighs)
CHANEL: All right, ladies, I want updates.
We poisoned Dean Munsch several hours ago.
She should have checked into an emergency room by now.
The woman at Zionist Memorial Hospital said they only admitted
one person to the ER all night, but it was some dude
who needed help getting a LEGO figure out of his rectum.
What an idiot.
It was Chad Radwell.
What? The nurse said he told her
he usually does his nightly nude yoga
before he sets a perimeter
of LEGO characters to guard his bed while he sleeps,
but this time he decided to do it after
and accidentally sat on LEGO Captain Jack Sparrow.
That's the weirdest explanation for anything I've ever heard.
Damn it! So, clearly, it's impossible
to poison Dean Munsch because she has some weird
buzzard gull that can safely digest anything!
We need to think of new ways to kill her!
No. I'm not doing this.
What? Two hours ago,
you were like, "Let's poison the bitch!" Well,
I had a change of heart.
Look, I still think she's most likely the killer,
but all the evidence against her is circumstantial.
We still don't have a smoking gun,
and if we decide to kill her without an overabundance
of proof, we are no better than the Red Devil.
Who, yes, is probably Dean Munsch.
All those in favor of kicking Grace out of Kappa House?
What? No.
You can't do that.
That's not in the house rules.
All those in favor
of temporarily changing the house rules
so that I can kick Grace out of Kappa House?
Sorry, Jack Skellington. You're out.
Fine.
It was really great getting to know all of you.
I'm really gonna cherish our time here together.
Come on, Zayday, let's go.
Grace, I'm not coming with you.
I love you to death and we'll be friends forever, but...
I think Chanel is right.
Killing is wrong, but, under this circumstance,
I don't know what other choice we have.
It's pretty obvious she's the killer,
and she's not gonna stop until every one of us is dead.
Grace, I'm sorry.
But I think you were right the first time.
I hate to say it,
but killing Dean Munsch is the right thing to do.
(scoffs)
CHANEL: Hold on, sluts.
I've got it.
Hey. Hey.
Gracie,
come on in. I just wanted
to see how you were doing.
I would guess it's probably pretty traumatizing
to be served your girlfriend's head for Thanksgiving dinner.
So, uh,
what are you doing?
Well, just doing some research.
You're not gonna believe what we found.
(door opens) "We"?
Hey, Grace.
Uh, wait, I'm sorry,
are you guys, like, friends now
or something? I just needed
your dad to go through all the info
in my Gigi file, see if he could illuminate anything.
And...?
Well...
nothing. I mean,
Gigi never really shared anything about herself with me.
In fact, now that I think about it,
I knew basically nothing about her.
I actually thought
her last name was Caldwellt, with a "T" at the end.
Which it wasn't. But it wasn't Caldwell either.
You know how we decided that she was the Hag of Shady Lane?
Well, I figured that that must mean
that she was the fourth girl in the bathroom that night,
the one who took the babies.
Which means she would have to be
one of the last two names
on the list from Dean Munsch's office.
And I finally got the mental institution
to release her intake paperwork, and...
guess what name she was admitted under... Jess Meyer.
So she was the fourth girl in the bathroom.
That's not what the file says. You see,
the psychiatrist report says that she was diagnosed
with having a mental breakdown after her sister Amy
committed suicide
just a few months earlier. Gigi's sister
was the one who took the babies that night.
And she tried to raise them for herself for a short while,
but... the stress and guilt was too much for her to handle.
So Gigi raised those babies to be killers
to get revenge on Kappa and the people responsible
for the death of her sister.
Wow, Dad,
first Mom, then Gigi... you sure can pick 'em.
Okay. Well, um,
I'm going to go,
because I have enough info to start writing my story.
I just need to know who the killer is so I have an ending.
I'm gonna take off.
Okay.
Bye.
See you, bud.
(door shuts)
So, how are you really doing?
Look, I know she was a liar
and spent almost 20 years raising and training
these innocent children to become mass murderers,
but I also really liked her.
She thought I was cool.
You know? She liked my playlists.
And I believe
that even though everything else was a lie
that she really liked my playlists.
Aw, she did, Dad. I'm sure she did.
Um, anyway...
(clears throat) how are you?
Hmm? (chuckles) I'm fine.
Pete? Actually, I think Pete
is a really nice guy.
Okay, I know I'm going to sound like such a dork,
but, nowadays,
there's a certain expectation
when you have a boyfriend. Mm-hmm.
You know, with... Yep. I know.
There's... No, no, no. Please don't...
- I understand what you're saying. Just don't say anything else. - You... oh...
These are those moments I wish your mom was still alive.
I mean, not your actual mom. She would have...
she would have told you to fake being pregnant
and then had him give you money for fake morning-after pills
and sleep with his friends to make him jealous.
A real mom to help you with this.
Maybe I can...
make you a playlist about it?
No, Dad, come on.
I need you right now.
Here's what I think.
When I was your age,
I was thoughtless about sex.
So thoughtless that I fathered twins
with a girl whose name I can't remember,
and those twins grew up
to murder a bunch of people.
Now, I know that that might seem
like an extreme consequence of teen sex,
but the lesson remains the same.
Honey...
if you don't think you're ready, you probably aren't.
And if you aren't,
well, then no good can come from doing it, anyway.
The main thing is you have to be perfectly dry.
The cryosauna is set to 200 degrees below zero,
so any water on your skin will freeze instantly.
Well, I'm just so excited about this.
I follow Jennifer Grey on Instagram,
and she raves about cryo.
Oh, I swear by it.
20 to 30 minutes in the cryosauna
and I feel better. My skin's glowing.
It's amazing for arthritis and lupus.
So, who wants to go first?
Dean Munsch? I always say, age before beauty. (chuckles)
Well, thank you very much.
Um, okay.
Wish me luck, girls.
Oh, wow, isn't it beautiful?
Oh, and it's not as cold as I thought it would be.
Mm-mm.
Well...
Okay.
(sighs)
See you on the other side.
(keypad blips)
Number three, guard the door. Don't let anybody in.
Dean Munsch will be dead in ten minutes.
(ticking)
How come there hasn't been any screaming?
Yeah. She hasn't even tried to break down the door or anything.
'Cause Dean Munsch has frozen to death, idiots.
If she tried to break the door down,
her arms would snap off.
Geez. There's a little movie called Terminator
you girls might want to consider watching.
- Number Six, you got the body bag? - Check.
Okay, the car's idling out back.
We pull bitch Popsicle from the freezer,
throw her in the trunk and make tracks.
(door whooshing open)
Oh, my God, she looks terrible.
(gasping)
I've never felt better.
All right, girls, who's next?
(groans, sighs) (phone ringing)
What do you want?
I can't.
'Cause I'm leaving campus, just like you should.
No, we need to get away while we still can.
Hey, hey, it's enough. The point has been made.
Why do you want to continue taking this any further?
Yes, I feel guilty!
'Cause it's not who I am!
Listen to me.
Don't you ever call me again.
(doors creaking open)
(sighs)
CHANEL: Okay, you incompetent
heifers, I need to know it's physically possible
for Dean Munsch to have survived 27 minutes in a cryochamber
set to negative 200 degrees below zero.
Zayday, go.
I heard about these Buddhist Monks
that found a way to meditate,
so they can sit outside all night,
way, way up in the Himalayas in weather
that would kill a normal person,
but their core temperature stays totally normal.
So, you think Dean Munsch studied meditation
with Buddhist monks in the Himalayas?
That's what I said, wasn't it?
Number Five, go.
So, I saw this documentary once about
this high schooler who could grow
all this really thick hair all over his body,
if he concentrated really, really hard on it.
And maybe Dean Munsch can do that, too.
I mean, this kid was, like, amazing.
Like, he won this high school basketball championship
singlehanded...
You're thinking of the movie Teen Wolf, you brainless gash,
which is not, in fact, a documentary!
HESTER: Maybe Dean Munsch is like Rasputin.
Like what?!
Uh, Rasputin.
He was a mystical Russian peasant
who became a close advisor
of Tsar Nicholas II because he could magically
cure Prince Alexei of his hemophilia.
Okay, this seems totally not germane to what
we're talking about, so can we please just skip ahead...?
No! Listen!
Rasputin gained more and more power with the Tsarina,
so, a group of conspirators invited Rasputin to dinner
so that they could give him a cup of poisoned wine.
But when Rasputin drank the entire bottle of poisoned wine,
it had no effect on him, except just making him burp a lot.
So one of the plotters freaked out and took a pistol
right in Rasputin's chest and shot him.
But it did nothing,
except just made him scream,
along with the burping.
So they shot him again... nothing!
And then, they shot him in the head. Still nothing!
Rasputin
wouldn't die.
They decided to just take a club and start beating him
until finally,
Rasputin stopped moving.
They cut off his genitalia, wrapped him in a rug
and threw him into an icy river.
Two days later, when they found the body
floating downstream, Rasputin's nails were gone!
He tried clawing himself (high-pitched scratching)
out of the ice.
In the end, he drowned.
Maybe she has some
magical powers that make her unable
to die, like some horror movie villain,
like Michael Myers, or Jason, or Dr. Giggles.
Hold on.
I just thought of something.
I was gonna wait to give you guys these
to celebrate another successful Black Friday.
But now I have another idea.
They're brand-new smartphones.
And keep them on you at all times.
I like the phone I already have.
These phones are better! Trust me!
I already activated each phone,
so when I call you, the edge will silently flash a color.
In this case, red.
Now, when you see the edge go red,
don't even pick up.
Just quietly head down to the university pool.
I'll lure Dean Munsch there by asking her to meet me alone,
and then, right before she can murder me,
we'll drown the bitch, just like Rasputin.
Got it? Good.
Hi. Excuse me?
So, I'm gonna need all of these to be a size zero.
Oh. Well, they all should come in a size zero.
Okay, but I'm gonna need these to be a size zero,
and right now, they're a size four.
So, maybe try on a size zero.
Okay, I'm not gonna try on the size zero
because I won't fit into the size zero.
I fit into the size four, but I'm not gonna
leave the store with a bunch of size fours.
I'm gonna leave the store with a bunch of size zeroes.
I really don't know what you're asking me to do.
I'm sorry, but do you realize how rude you're being?
You have no right to treat our friend like that.
I-I just don't know what you're asking. I...
Okay, what I am asking you to do
is to take all the tags off of the size zeroes
and put them onto the size fours so that I can leave
this establishment with what I came for, which is a bunch
of size zero garments of a sexy lingerie nature!
I don't think I can do that.
HESTER: You can't?
Can't do what? Your job?
(phone buzzing) One second away from calling the police.
This is discrimination!
'Cause at this point, this is a civil rights issue.
You're not letting us shop? How dare you?!
What rights issue? Make her happy! She has nothing.
She's a terrible person. She's trying to block a friend of ours?
Look at her. Give her something. Give her something to be happy!
Come on, what is wrong with these idiots?!
(gasps) Oh. Hi.
Hello, Chanel.
Why did you ask me to meet you here?
And why are you carrying a bag clearly filled with chains?
Um... bondage.
Bondage?
Yeah, I-I thought for this week's
Campus Feminist Collective, we could talk
about the rise of S&M in contemporary literature.
I thought you might have a few words to say on it.
About bondage?
Mm-hmm.
Well...
where is everybody?
Actually, I don't know.
Do you think maybe it's because
there's a serial killer on the loose,
and the entire campus
has been evacuated?
See, now I'm feeling really stupid
because I'm just remembering that.
Well, it's, uh... it's a shame.
Because I have quite a lot to say on the matter.
One more thing.
Why did you want the Campus Feminists
to meet at a pool?
I thought we could talk about bondage and... go for a swim.
Hmm.
Yeah.
(footsteps departing)
CHANEL: The sheer level of idiocy and ineptitude
inside this sorority has reached a level
that can no longer be tolerated.
I am going to write the missive...
(knuckles cracking)
...to end all missives. (sighs)
These morons need someone to tear them a new one.
"Dear Kappa sisters..."
And that someone is named "me."
(crickets chirping)
PETE: Be right there.
Oh. Hey.
Hey.
You're all packed up.
I thought you were staying until you cracked the case.
Oh, yeah. No, no, no, uh... totally.
I was just gonna go to the woods and...
and write or something, like-like-like Thoreau, but
with WiFi.
Oh. Um, were you gonna
come say good-bye and tell me that?
I mean, maybe I could come with you.
Might be kind of romantic, you know?
Being all alone, out in the woods.
A sexy little cabin, a fireplace...
I could bring a slow cooker,
and we could talk about the case all night over short ribs...?
Mmm.
Well, I do love short ribs.
Mmm!
Mmm.
What is this?
I'm ready.
I want to, and I want to with you.
Look, I-I don't know if we'll be together forever,
or even how long forever is gonna be,
considering we're being hunted down one by one, but...
no matter what, I know
I'll always be able to say that my first was with a great,
great, great guy.
(groans) I'm-I'm... I'm not that great.
(sighs)
I'm-I'm, I'm sorry.
Um, I don't understand.
Um... are you listening to me?
I want this.
I want you.
I am a sentient grown woman
who has been through hell the past few weeks,
and I'm sitting next to you, now,
with open eyes and an open heart,
telling you that I want to give myself to you,
Pete Martinez. No, no.
Grace, you don't even know me.
Of course I know you!
Why would you say that? What is going on?
Pete? Why not, Pete? Why?
Pete, I... I-I love you.
I can't.
(sighs) Because...
I don't want your first time to be with a murderer.