Scream Queens (2015–2016): Season 1, Episode 11 - Black Friday - full transcript

Previously on Scream Queens...

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?

Dinner is served.

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

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.

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?

Resync by Se7enOfNin9

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.

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.

I want to know what
I'm being charged with.

You drove your pickup truck

through the front window
of a Best Buy.

You killed or maimed
people. Let's go.

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.

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!

Wait, look.

Hurry!

I am Kappa president.

All right, Munsch.

I guess it's finally
just me and you.

Oh, go on and shoot me, hag.
It'll just make me

young and skinny forever
and you'll still be old.

Come on, finish me off,

you shriveled, old crone!

Hold on, baby girl!

Freeze!

First day

on the job and I
caught a killer.

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!

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.

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.

The question is, how?

How do we murder Dean Munsch?

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.

That's right.

Earl Grey was murdered.

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...

Please! Stop interrupting
my dead gay friend Boone!

"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

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.

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...

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...
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.

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!

W-Wait a minute.

Is... is this apple cider?

How did you know
that was my favorite?

How come all the
pictures on the wall are selfies?

- Does she not have any friends?
- 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."

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.

And what feminism...
means to me...

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.

Oh, wow!

That's bliss!

So, where do we begin?

I interned at Ms. magazine.

And, oh, remind me,

I want to show you both
the original

Ms. magazine cover...

It was the beginning...

That woman...

was Susan Sontag.

And that band

was Bachman-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?

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.

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.

Oh, uh...

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...

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,

and I have you.

And that's all you need?

That's all I need.

Hmm.
Hmm.

Let's do this.

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 Dean 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.

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.

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.

"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.

Bye.

See you, bud.

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...

how are you?

Hmm?
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.

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.

See you on the other side.

Number three, guard the door.
Don't let anybody in.

Dean Munsch will be dead
in ten minutes.

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.

Oh, my God, she looks terrible.

I've never felt better.

All right, girls, who's next?

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.

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!

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

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.

You can't?

Can't do what?
Your job?

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?!

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.

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...

...to end all missives.

These morons need someone
to tear them a new one.

"Dear Kappa sisters..."

And that someone is named "me."

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.

I'm-I'm...
I'm not that great.

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.

Because...

I don't want your first time
to be with a murderer.