Happy Thanksgiving! After enduring last week’s hellish ride on the Nick Jonas sexuality rollercoaster, when his character just tripped on a boob and suddenly turned straight for no reason, we’ve earned a holiday. Or at least a really dramatic suffocation of someone exhausting. I made a list. It’s pretty much everyone.
But of course, Thanksgiving is the time of year when we’re supposed to put down our suffocation lists, forget how stupid everything is, and remember what we’re truly grateful for: Chad Radwell. Chanel gets it. Why else would she have pushed her psychotic necrophiliac love rival down that giant flight of stairs? The spirit of Thanksgiving.
Weirdly, Chad isn’t in the festive spirit at all. His “wanger is way stressed out” (there, there dear), and he’s not even close to being properly excited that Chanel got him horrific death for Thanksgiving, even after he learns that Neck Brace was only fake pregnant. Pssh. Who called the Thanksgiving Grinch?
Shockingly, just like all the other 158 corpses Chanel has hidden in there this week, Neck Brace is gone and obviously still alive in spite of cracking sound. Sigh. Honestly, it’s like some of these people have never even murdered someone with a staircase before. What do they teach in colleges these days?
Eh. No matter. Now that Chanel is clearly winning the rich-husband championship (because feminism), she can freely go to the Hamptons with Chad to meet his money for some delicious money. Neck Brace definitely won’t use her heat-seeking crazy eyes to follow them. That would be silly.
Radwells! Like we’ve been saying for ages, what this show really needs is five more Radwells. Chad and Chanel travel to the inside of a churning volcano to meet Chad’s family, featuring the seething hate-balls that raised him along with his two brothers, Thad and Brad Radwell, portrayed by a stack of lacrosse sticks and a talking Abercrombie bag.
Per family tradition, all the Radwells must stand up and identify themselves by name (you know, like happens in a family) and then provide a brief character synopsis to the audience. Helpful! In summary, they’re worse than anyone you’ve ever imagined, unless you’ve imagined what would happen if Donald Trump had a baby with the cast of Entourage, because they’re that.
Post-introductions, Mother Radwell attempts to perform the traditional Thanksgiving salute to dirty, dirty whores, with a special shout-out to Chanel for being an unbearable garbage peasant who sullies their home with her desperate whore feathers. But before Chanel can even leap over a hundred tureens to claw all of Mother Radwell’s organs out, an unexpected visitor surfaces from the depths of hell to interrupt everything.
Sadly for her, Mrs. Radwell has a black belt in making undesirable fake-pregnant girls disappear using a stream of “swarthy little runt”-based insults. It’s truly a sight to behold. Every time Mrs. Radwell says, “gold-digging hoochie,” an angel gets its wings.
Broken by the events of this magically horrific dinner, Chanel runs off to the bathroom, and Mr. Radwell immediately follows her inside. No one even mentions how creepy that is. (Oh, didn’t you know? In rich families, the patriarch always watches everyone pee.)
Inside, Mr. Radwell unfurls his checkbook to notify Chanel that she’s barely even gross-rich and needs to get her penniless, uncultured trash ass out of his sight, like instantly. He offers her $50,000 to disappear and go buy an Olive Garden. Get it? Because they’re both disgusting garbage. Snob slam!
But somehow, Chanel isn’t having the worst Thanksgiving of all time. That title belongs to the remaining Red Devil, who is sitting alone with Gigi Crazymess having an impromptu arts-and-crafts exposition while contemplating what this life even is.
In other Thanksgiving disasters, we learn that Chanel #3 is the heir to a frozen-dinner fortune and comes from a long line of horrible football-watching, barrel-of-wine-guzzling disasters. After listening to them speak almost one word, she announces she’d rather spend Thanksgiving at the murder house getting stabbed.
That can be arranged. Chanel #3 returns to Kappa amid the familiar dulcet tones of flesh being hacked into tiny pieces. Ah, home sweet home. She picks up a candlestick, indicating that we’ve already entered the “wildly swinging blunt instruments” portion of Thanksgiving, to find that it’s only Dean Jamie Lee, chopping away at a delicious recently pardoned turkey. You can really taste the pardon.
With Grace and Zayday also sticking around for reasons that definitely exist, it’s suddenly a real Kappa Thanksgiving! Everyone’s invited! Even Wes! There are no duds on Thanksgiving.
Unfortunately, this is one of those Thanksgiving parties where everyone has to go around the table and say who they think has done the most murders this year. Ugh. Don’t you hate those? All the same, it is a really convenient way to sum up all the evidence and highlight every suspect in turn to prepare for the end of the season. Spoiler alert: the prime suspect is still everybody. Conclusive!
As payback, Chanel #3 flips the accusation back on Dean Jamie Lee, arguing that the dean is obviously the murderer because, come on. Look at her. But also, she saw Dean Jamie Lee sitting at a coffee shop reading a Playgirl (because she’s a legend of endless perfection?) and eating a bologna sandwich. Just like she’s supposed to be allergic to! EVIDENCE! Meanwhile, Chanel #5 is wearing pearl-encrusted cat ears. So there’s also that.
Just as the gang is about to call the police to go, “bologna evidence,” Wes decides that everyone should forget about that forever, saying, “I feel like I need to accuse my daughter of 16 murders right now. Parenting, amiright?” The problem is, Wes has been thinking. He should really stop that.
Everyone agrees that this evidence, along with Grace’s excessively awful personality, makes her the new prime suspect. Dean who?
Oh, but it was just Pete in that Red Devil costume! Of course! One time, he thought it would be a good idea to walk around dressed like the murderer while not being the murderer. Like people do. Speaking of that, Pete is still alive?
He is. He pops into Thanksgiving right then to corroborate Grace’s babbling nonsense and deliver Box Full Of Truth Documents, so that he can document the truth. Journalism.
Less easy to explain is the damning light-speed DNA test that Pete performed, which reveals that…bum bum BUMMMMM…Wes is the secret father of the bathtub twins! There’s no weaseling his way out of this one. Wes goes, “That is absolutely correct due to sluttiness” and then runs upstairs.
Devastated by the news that he fathered Grace and a minimum of two murderers, and therefore has the shoddiest sperm in the world, Wes concludes that he and Grace must stop accusing each other of murder and focus instead on ending this Red Devil scourge themselves. Grace goes, “That’s cool, I’m totally capable of killing my half-sister.” Also, they decide not to go to the police because there are too many suspects, which is not a thing.
Back at Radwell Thanksgiving From Hell, it’s time for the annual game of full-contact Pictionary. The teams are Radwells vs. Poorsies. Obviously. Brother Chad Michael Murray is up first and selects “neck brace whore,” which should really be one of the official Pictionary cards. I would play that version.
While Chanel did just try to murder Neck Brace yesterday, even she draws the line somewhere, and besmirching the good name of Pictionary by using it to hurl insults at a girl with a deformed spine is too far. Chanel gives an impassioned speech about how horrible families like the Radwells shouldn’t use innocent party games to call people vicious names, then calls Mrs. Radwell a leathery ostrich-hide clutch that somehow learned to talk and lives in a tackier version of a Sizzler. Yeah! Lesson: If you’re going to troll someone awful, at least do it properly with a sufficient number of Sizzler references.
Resuming their completely healthy and bloodthirsty sisterhood, Chanel and Neck Brace link arms and flounce out, declaring that they’re done with Chad forever!
That lasts 11 seconds. Chad follows Chanel back to Kappa because he really wanted some turkey. Chanel goes, “Turkey???? All is forgiven!”
Oh, but sorry Chad. There’s no turkey here. Can we interest you in a platter of Gigi’s decapitated head instead? Because we’ve got a ton of that. Well played, remaining Red Devil.
Quote of the week:
“Drunk on wine is still drunk, mother!” – Chanel, putting forward some controversial claims