The Final Showdown

Episode Report Card
Jacob Clifton: B+ | Grade It Now!
Lesson Twelve: The Customer Is Always "Right"
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!

My, my. The whole formula here is completely wacky! We start back in the past, with a redux on the glorious Alla/Felisha meltdown from last week, and jump back and forth from that to Randal and Rebecca hanging out against the ugly abstract expressionist painting that greets you on entering the suite, talking about how clearly it will be Alla that comes back, Felisha having found herself under a bus. They're watching the door like hawks and there is much discussion and interview footage about the whole Alla-Is-The-Winner thing. It's nice as an editorial nod to Alla's rocking awesomeness, but because the narrative is a bit less sophisticated than one might think, Burnett-wise we're actually gearing up for the hilarity of neither of them coming back. That's it, and underscored one hundred times. The flashback footage is mostly about how horrified Trump was by Alla's openly abusive takedown of Felisha, and by the boner it gave him.

Alla licks her lips and tiptoes out just like she's on Scooby Doo and you can hear that squinkly-squinkly sound effect, and then Trump informs her she is too vile to be a part of the Trumpanies, and then gets all excited about getting to go inform Rebecca and Randal about this latest turn of events. He goes about it in the less normal fashion of heading back into the chthonic depths of that secret door of his in the Boardroom that he always comes out of, and you always expect like steam or smoke or Halloween screams or a scary red glow or whatever. If that creepy black room leads to the suite, it's through some kind of icky secret passageways and that makes me so scared I might cry, like, you're going to see paintings in the suite with the eyes going back and forth and creepy suits of armor or whatever, bookcases that swing open in the dead of night when you twist the candlesticks and the Heir of Slytherin and whatnot.

The door opens, and Rebecca and Randal smile gorgeously at the creepy sight of Trump walking in, and he's like, "You're expecting…who?" and they admit it's Alla. He makes a funny Martha noise, like this oh mm-hmm sound, and then congratulates them both. They already know what's up, since it's obvious, but pretend to be all, "What? What is it, Mr. Trump?" so he can blow their minds with a fake surprise, which is very sweet of them. "I fired them both," he says, and there's a weird snake rattle sound, and they are both astounded to learn that they are the Final Two. You guys, they look so tired. Like they haven't slept in weeks, which is exactly the case. I want to cuddle them both in my lap and sing until they go to sleep because that shit is not good for your skin. I think a good lullaby for Randal would be "Superman" by Five For Fighting due to its quiet yearning. I think for Rebecca I would sing "The Official Ironmen Rally Song" by Guided By Voices so she would learn about sophisticated, intellectual tunes, or maybe something from the Belinda Carlisle oeuvre.

Rebecca -- neither of them are all that coherent at this point -- interviews that she "wanted to laugh, like WHAT?" and they both laugh and shoot finger guns at each other and blow up their cheeks like Dizzy Gillespie and make inappropriate Redskins sounds and then they start crumping, which is hard with crutches, and they don't say anything that makes sense, and Trump watches them, thinking, "Yes, this is exactly what I wanted." He reminds them that this process began with over a million candidates, and now there are just two of them, and they giggle and smile and breakdance and make origami.

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