Scream Queens (2015–2016): Season 2, Episode 2 - Warts and All - full transcript

Tyler, who has a hideous ailment, visits the hospital and finds love; Chad returns to win Chanel back, and discovers Brock's dark secret; After a run-in with the killer, Cathy enlists the help of Denise Hemphill.

So... a large plant murdered Ms. Hobart,

and then attempted to murder
you before you passed out.

You were then awakened moments
later by Mr. Jackson here,

who probably frightened
the monster away.

And now Ms. Hobart's body is missing.

Is that what you'd have us believe?

Or it was someone dressed
up as a large plant.

Suspect can't stick to a story.

What... suspect?

How did I become a suspect?

I was... I was locked in the bathtub.



How could I have smeared
a 200-foot trail

of swamp slime across the hallway,

then decapitate a werewolf?

I mean, why would I do that? Why?

Mm.

Suspect unclear of her own motives.

I'm just curious,

do you have to have
graduated high school

- to become a detective?
- No, ma'am.

I know what I saw, okay?!

There is a killer on the loose!

Chamberlain?

Chamberlain, tell them.

Well, I did hear them screaming,



but by the time I got down here,

it was only Chanel #5 in the room.

That is, until Dr. Munsch walked in.

Well, the Wi-Fi is down in my apartment.

I was on a Skype call in my office.

Dean Munsch.

Number Five is obviously crazy.

She probably murdered Catherine
herself for the attention,

because she hasn't been
touched in months.

I don't even think
she's touched herself.

Even her hand thinks she's gross.

The closest she's gotten to sex
is when a bookshelf fell on her.

Yeah. Number Five is just jealous

because Number Three and I got asked out

by Dr. Brock and Dr.
Cascade, and she didn't.

So while we were on our way

to our hot double date in Bonetown,

she decided to sabotage it,

by killing a poor, defenseless,
hairless creature.

Hiding the body and forcing
us to hurry back to listen to

the least-terrifying story
anyone has ever heard.

All right.

I don't think we're ever gonna
really know what happened here.

What?!

Sorry, sweetheart. The
evidence is just inconclusive.

Call me if anything else comes up.

In the meantime, no more made-up
stories that aren't that scary.

I'm telling the truth. I swear.



Tyler, can you tell us

when the growths first appeared?

- About two years ago.
- Hold on.

Have you ever tried popping those?

Uh-uh. Nope. We've already
talked about this.

I'm not gonna sit here while you
try to demean another patient.

I am not demeaning anyone.

I am being brash and confident,

because I am the out-of-the-box thinker

who brilliantly solved our last case

without resorting to a
full-frontal lobotomy.

- Well...
- If I was gonna be mean,

I'd ask him if he kissed a toad.

Or if he was a toad.

He at least had some lineage,
like a toad grandparent.

Or if he rented out his pores
on Airbnb for hundreds

of expectant female spiders
to lay their eggs in.

Okay, we get it.

You're not being mean.

Yes, um, I have tried it, but it hurts,

and it doesn't work
because they're not zits.

I was diagnosed with
neurofibromatosis type 1,

which my doctor said it was genetic.

Well, Tyler, there's
good news and bad news.

Good news is that there's a
machine called a CO2 laser

that can shrink and eventually
remove your tumors.

It's completely painless.

- Really? That's-that's great.
- Mm-hmm.

Well, you didn't wait for the bad news.

Yeah, the bad news is
they're-they're cumbersome

and they're super expensive
and we don't have one.

I don't have any money.
The only money I make

is writing Encyclopedia
Brown fan fiction.

I used to love Encyclopedia Brown.

Yeah, you would.

Look at me.

Look at me. I'm a monster.

I don't have anywhere else to go.

My life is a complete mess.

I'm desperate.

So can you please, please, just help me?

Oh! Zayday.

You don't happen to
know if there are any

New Guinean restaurants in town, do you?

No.

I didn't even know that was a thing.

Yeah. I just have a taste for it.

As you were.

Chamberlain, right?

Could I talk to you for a minute?

Okay, so you changed your mind;
you want to go out with me.

What? No.

It's Munsch.

There's something bugging me about her,

and there's nobody else
I can talk to about it.

I'm suspicious.

I mean, why would she want to run
a hospital in the first place?

I don't know, to help people?

Yeah, but she also was the
dean of a university.

Why would she start a hospital
to cure only a handful of people

with really obscure diseases?

I mean, she had to pour every
penny she had into this place.

Who does that?

She is rich.

And why would she hire
me and the Chanels?

The Chanels are idiots,
and she hates them.

Like really hates them, hates them.

I believe you got a theory. I do.

There's something about the story

that Number Five was
telling the other day.

I mean, she said the swamp
monster that killed Catherine

was about to kill her, and
then you scared it off.

And Dean Munsch was just upstairs

in her office the whole time?

After hours?

You said it yourself.

Dean Munsch said good night to both you

and Chanel Number Five long
before Catherine was murdered.

- So what, you think she's in on it?
- She has to be.

It's the only thing that makes
any of this make sense.

I think she's out for revenge.

I think she gathered all the
Chanels here in one place,

so she could knock them off one by one.

It's like Ten Little Indians.

- Whoa, what? You can't say that.
-Ten Little Indians.

Agatha Christie novel.

- That still doesn't make it okay.
- Look, okay.

That's not the point; the point is,

we have to get to the bottom of this...
together.

And figure out exactly
what Dean Munsch is after.

Okay.

I'm in.

It's not a date.

It's not a date.

I'm so happy we rescheduled
our May-December date.

How are you gonna eat all that popcorn?

I'm not gonna eat any of it.

You see, I buy the biggest tub

of popcorn they sell and have
them cover it in butter,

and then I secretly drop handfuls of it

on the floor as the movie plays.

I don't understand. Why?

To make the fatties feel
bad about themselves.

Then they feel terrible and eat more.

It's, like, my favorite hobby.

You are the most incredible
woman I've ever met.

Thank you.

I'm having a really nice time.

Sorry. I'm sorry.

Are you kidding?

I haven't been manhandled
in, like, two years.

Grope at will, Doctor.

Hey!

- Sorry, sorry, sir.
- You could have just asked.

I know. Here. Sorry.

Oh, my God... wait.

Are you imitating the guy in the
movie with the out-of-control hand?

- Yeah.
- That is amazing.

You know, I never thought
I could put my heart

back together again after
losing Chad Radwell,

but after being with
you tonight and your,

your amazing hand and your hot mouth,

I know I'm finally ready to move on.

Hey. Why are you so sad?

My first boyfriend's name was Clarence.

He had hair like Richard
Grieco and he played lacrosse,

but... he was also imaginary.

We dated all throughout high school.

And the day before graduation,
he broke up with me.

I thought things would
be different in college.

I mean, especially when I joined
Kappa and became a Chanel,

but then Chanel told everybody
that I had teeth in my vagina,

so it's basically impossible
for me to get a date.

But I knew this would be different.

We're supposed to be grownups now.

But it's exactly the same.

I mean, it's only two
weeks, and already Chanel

and Number Three have
hot doctor boyfriends

and no one will even look at me.

I look like I'm wrapped
in infected bubble wrap.

- Mm.
- Yeah.

Shouldn't be complaining to you.
Your life is so much worse.

No, I don't mind.

I can't even tell you how long it's
been since a girl even talked to me.

Do you want to see what I
used to look before all this?

You were hot!

Like, super hot.

I just don't know how I'm gonna
find the money for this laser.

I'm gonna find the money for that laser.

I don't know how, but I'm gonna find it.

Chad?

What the hell?!

Oh, the look on your face.

God, I knew I should have strapped
a GoPro to my Red Devil mask.

What are you doing with your hand?

It wasn't funny when you snuck into

the insane asylum in the
middle of the night

and scared me in my bed,
and it's not funny now.

I thought it was pretty funny.

Maybe not Happy Gilmore funny.

Definitely Big Daddy funny.

What is that screaming?

That's my good buddy Randall.
He needs medical attention.

Think he's gonna die.

I want you back.

So we're on our annual hunting trip

with the International
Order of Saint Guntington.

It's an elite secret society of hunters

that dates back to the
Hapsburger Dynasty.

Okay, did anything
odd happen on the trip?

Was he bit by a tick or hit in the head?

That is an excellent question, C.

Are you guys boning?

Went to the movies last
night, I grabbed her boob.

- One boob? I thought doctors had game.
- Mm-hmm.

- Why don't you try two handfuls...
- Okay, okay.

You can fight over
Chanel's breasts later.

Though it would be sort of like
going to war over the Falklands.

Lot of work for a relatively small
and insignificant amount of land.

Anyway, please continue.

Thank you.

So we're on our annual quail swim

with the Ordensbrothers RBG,
Bill Parcells, Ted Danson.

Giant covey of quail take off

right in front of us, we lower
our guns to take 'em out.

Ginsberg... she bagged
two, two or three.

Hell of a shot. All of a sudden,

a couple stragglers take
off after the first

volley of shots, Randal lowers
his gun to take 'em out,

when all of a sudden,
Liz Cheney pops out.

- And I think she was, like, peeing.
- Mm-hmm.

Anyway, Randal lowers his shotgun,

shoots her right in the face. Boom!

Hope she was okay.

No, I don't. She's awful.

Your friend has the Jumping Frenchman

of Maine disease. Watch this.

We don't have a full
understanding of what causes it,

physiologically, but
we do know sufferers

of this disorder have an
exaggerated startle reflex.

- Mah!
- Like that.

You know, any slight little stimuli

- sort of sets him off.
- Mah!

Okay.

Okay. My guess is that shooting

Liz Cheney in the face
probably set this off.

Wow. Dr. Holt, you are... incredible.

Yeah?

Did I tell you I started a band?

I'm the lead singer.

Front man. It's called
Gold-Plated Nutsack.

Please, please, somebody help me.

I feel like I'm gonna
die from screaming.

I'm sorry, Randal, but there...
there's no known cure.

But that is the point
of this hospital...

to cure the heretofore incurable.

So, don't worry, Randal. We
are going to help you out.

You have my word.

Sorry.

Nutsack.

How do you feel about revenge sex?

- Hello, America.

My name is Chanel #5.

And I'm here to ask you for help.

This is my friend Tyler.

He used to be hot, and now he's
covered in weird skin bubbles.

Hi. I'm Tyler, and two years
ago, I was diagnosed with...

Two years ago, he was diagnosed
with neurofibromatosis type 1.

It's a crippling disease
that turned this hot guy

into a living, breathing monster.

Won't you please help him

afford the expensive laser

- that could end his torment?
- Okay, I can't watch this anymore.

Number Five, that is the worst
fund-raising video ever made.

What are you talking about?
It's really emotional.

- It's really not.
- Okay, Number Five,

you're going about this all wrong.

But you want Tyler to get
those laser treatments

so he'll be hot again and
you can date him, right?

Well, Number Five, once he's hot again,

he's not gonna want to date you.

Chanel's right. The only shot

you have with Tyler is
if he stays all warty.

Look, if you want to be with
Tyler, you need to go for him

now, be the girl that stood by
him through his tumoriest days.

Then when he's hot again,
he'll feel obligated

to stay with you and never leave.

All right, what we got?

Someone must have hired someone

from one of those online
reputation redemption companies

to scrub clean any
file on this hospital.

And all that comes up on Google is stuff

from when it first opened

and an article about Dean
Munsch buying the place.

And a whole chunk from when
it was just a normal hospital

in the 1980s is missing.

Look, what we need to do is
go down to the local library

and just search the microfiche files.

You can't scrub those.

Oh, great idea. Let's go.

No, Zayday doesn't go to the library.

Chamberlain brings the
library to Zayday.

I went this afternoon.

Libraries are very "screepy" places.

Okay, but don't we
need a special machine

to be able to look at these things?

All set up downstairs
in the archives room.

I feel like I'm in one of
those movies from the 1970s.

This is from November 1, 1986.

The entire hospital staff was
murdered on Halloween night.

Hey, what are you guys dressed as?

I am NASA's Voyager 2 spacecraft.

And I'm Uranus.

Ooh!

On January 24, NASA's Voyager 2

made its first encounter with Uranus.

And tonight Dr. Mike and I are gonna

recreate the encounter here on Earth.

Amazing!

Hey, do you guys want to go
do some cocaine with us?

Not while "Mad About You" is playing.

Maybe I shouldn't be doing this.

I am still on call.

Leave me alone!

That mask looks familiar.

No. It can't be.

No. No one knows. I didn't tell anybody.

- I didn't tell anybody.
- Hey!

Hey! What do you want?!

Who are you?!

Oh, my God!

No one was arrested. They
never found out who did it.

What have you two been doing?

Nothing?

Are you feeling okay?

I'm gonna be feeling great
in about 15 minutes.

You live with the Chanels, right?

That's right.

Would you mind providing detailed
information as to their schedules?

Like where they are at
certain times of the day,

when they're most likely to be alone.

Why would you need to know that?

If I know where the Chanels
are at any given time,

I can make sure they can handle
the workload they've been given,

considering they're idiots
who aren't doctors.

Well, in that case, you'd need to want

to know the same information
about me, wouldn't you?

Uh... yeah. Right.

Uh-uh.

Way you just said...
that made it seem like

you only want intels on the Chanels.

Well, what if I did?

That would mean your
explanation was a lie,

and I'd have a real
problem with helping you.

Fine. If you can't help me,
I'll find someone who can.

Pick up my supplements.

Morning.

What are you doing?

Uh, showering?

My third of the day.

Like to stay extra fresh just
in case emergency sex pops up.

This is an employee locker room.

Ah. Look, I get it.

Standing in here

with me... all naked, sudsed up.

You're thinking to yourself,

"Wow! That is the last climber
to summit Mount Chanel.

How am I supposed to compete with that?"

Look, Chad, I'm a surgeon...
a brilliant one.

You check off two boxes on
the dateable guy checklist:

handsome and rich.

And guess what, I check those, too.

Okay, first of all, I have
never heard of that checklist,

so I call bull crap on that existing.

Oh, it exists.

Second, did you just call me handsome?

'Cause, given the circumstances,
that's a little weird.

Third...

I'm glad you brought up boxes.

Isn't that what this is all about...
Chanel's box?

Well, guess what, Dr. I Got Lucky

Guessing What's Wrong With
Chad's Good Buddy Randal.

The only dude in the shower

that's ever gonna check
Chanel's box is me.

I don't know if I could
stand for that, Chad.

Well, before this gets
any more homoerotic...

I don't think that's possible.

...I'm gonna do something I
hoped I wouldn't have to do.

We're gonna settle this in the
ancient Radwell tradition.

You and me, local YMCA, squash.

First to 11.

Best out of three, winner gets Chanel.

That is awful and
misogynistic to use a girl

as a prize for a sporting event.

But Chanel's worth it.

I'm in.

Think our wieners just
touched accidentally.

I know they think I'm crazy
because I tend to respond

to everything with the same extreme
level of intensity, but it was real.

I was attacked. And I
didn't kill Werewolf Girl.

You know, I'm actually kind
of an amateur detective,

'cause all the Encyclopedia
Brown fan fiction I write.

What if I helped you find proof?

And you will not even have to
leave one quarter on the gas can.

Mm. I don't understand.

It's an Encyclopedia Brown joke.

- Yeah.
- Mm.

I basically have zero personality.

I like your personality.

You like his personality?

And here we thought you were
just into guys who look like...

the inside of a
hemorrhoid-infested butt.

Dude, he looks like bubble wrap

with a... with a staph infection.

No, wait. I have a better one.

He looks like one of those...

You cannot speak to him this way!

He is a beautiful soul, and I
do not have teeth in my vagina!

I'm... sorry.

Sometimes I tend to overreact a little
bit since I stopped taking my meds.

- Can I help you?
- Actually, you can.

Why did you have the online history
of this hospital scrubbed?

What's this all about?

On October 31, 1986,

there was a mass murder
in this hospital,

and all the evidence that was
left behind was green slime.

That same green slime was there the
night that Chanel #5 was attacked,

and you just happened to be there.

So what is your theory?

You attacked Chanel #5.

Or you had someone do it.

Me, Chanel, Number Three, Number Five...
we're your loose ends.

You gathered us all here in one place
so you could knock us off one by one.

Shh!

I could really use a friend right now.

Just someone to talk to.

Just sit and listen.

Well...

what I'm gonna tell you is in
the strictest of confidence.

Is that understood?

I'm not trying to murder anyone.

I'm trying to save someone's life.

Mine.

The headaches started
about eight months ago.

Just blistering headaches.

At first, I thought it was the stress
and excitement of my book tour.

Then the searing joint pain

and the shivering... I-I
would freeze all night

and wake up in a pool of sweat.

And then

my neighbor...

asked me why I was walking so weird.

It was subtle at first, but
then I noticed it, too.

My gait has changed.

I-I've been to doctors and specialists.

They just...

they just don't know what it is.

In fact, they don't think it's anything.

But-but I know it's something. I...

I just don't think I have very long.

Look, I-I didn't start this hospital

because I give a rat's ass about
the American health care system.

I started it to find out what this
disease was before it kills me.

- I don't think...
- Dean Munsch, I'm so sorry.

Well, you
know, the one thing

to take into consideration is that
you lived a long, productive life.

Please, just help me. Zayday, help me.

Please help find the cure. Please.

What the hell are you?

- What's going on?
- Oh! Call the police!

No, don't call the
police; they're morons.

Oh, my God, are you okay?

Number Five wasn't lying.

She was attacked, by this thing

that I think is responsible
for all those murders here

30 years ago!

Oh, come on!

Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

From now on, when someone has
just fought off the killer

and they're about to reach
down and pull off the mask

and find out who it is, not
the time to distract them

with a bunch of questions!

Oh, I was so close!

As it turns out, Jumping
Frenchman of Maine Disease

is one of the more treatable
rare disorders we encounter,

so you'll be happy to know your
friend is responding very well.

The key...

The key is removing stimuli
through sensory deprivation

to calm down the neurotransmitters.

Now, we provided an
environment for Randal

where nothing will startle him.

What are you talking about?
He's still screaming.

Perhaps I-I whipped the drapes too fast.

Maybe next time I should
try it slower, right?

Randal?

Randy? Use the towel.

Try the bucket, Randal.

Get... put it on your head.

Good boy, Randy.

You see, Chad, when you've studied
medicine as long as I have,

you come to learn that
sometimes, with treatment,

the symptoms get a little
worse before they get better.

What are you doing?

Nothing.

Well, I'm placing my
hand on your shoulder

in a way that subtly
asserts my dominance.

No...

what is your other hand doing?

Nothing.

What do you say we give
Randal a little privacy, huh?

Come on, everyone.

Well, well, well.

It's a damn good thing you got
Quantico's finest on the case.

Do you know the number one lesson
you learn as a top FBI cadet? Hmm?

Trust your instincts.

And do you know what
my instincts told me

the first time I laid eyes
on that Zayday Williams?

I was like, "This bitch right
here is a stone-cold ho."

She tried to accuse you
of being the killer

just to deflect the
attention off herself.

How do we prove it's not me?

Boom. I got you. Okay?

This is what I learned at Quantico.

And by watching movies about Quantico.

Ooh, and from the hit TV show Quantico,

now in its thrilling second season.

Here's the thing:

If you want to catch a killer,

you got to get inside
the mind of a killer.

Huh? Or in Zayday's case,
underneath the weave of a killer.

And I know just the right person
who can help us do it. Hmm?

Do you think it's
weird that you're, like, 60

and still working at
a teaching hospital?

You should be out of school by now, bro.

You should've graduated.

Yah!

Were you held back or something?

You obviously grew up playing squash.

I grew up playing
Radwell-style water polo.

Similar rules, except the horses
get in the water on horseback.

Actually, I've only been
playing a couple years.

Whose hand is that, bro?

Anonymous donor.

I'm done.

Oh, I'm not.

I'm just getting started.

Oh, and if you think

being a doctor gives you some
sort of advantage over me,

you're wrong. 'Cause guess what.

I'm about to become a doctor, too.

You realize it takes years?

I'm playing the long game.

Back off Chanel.

And back off me.

This hand is capable of a lot
more than playing squash.

She's down at the end.

I'll be watching.

You'll be fine.

Are you my birthday present?

Oh, that guy just threw birthday
cake frosting in my hair!

Ugh!

Hello, Chanel. Dean Munsch.

Chanel #3.

Special Agent Denise Hemphill, FBI.

Those, uh, drawings are real nice.

They're from memory. Memory is all I
have now that I don't have a view.

Glad to hear you're doing well.

We just wanted to ask
you a couple questions.

No.

You were just gaining my trust back

by complimenting my
drawings, and now this

ham-handed segue into
asking about the attacks

that happened at your hospital.

Oh, sookie, sookie now!

Now how'd you know about that?

Tell me, do these attacks
happen in the dead of night

during the graveyard shift

when most of your staff
has already left?

Yes.

And does this killer
wear a mask with horns

and does he or she leave a trail
of green slime wherever he goes?

You know who the killer is, don't you?

I also know that there's a connection

to the Halloween murders
that happened 30 years ago.

The clues are right in
front of your face.

You just don't see them.

Just tell us who the killer is!

Quid pro quo, Chanel.

I'll tell you everything that I know.

But first, I want a transfer to your
hospital and I want a room with a view.

- You're insane.
- I'm not finished.

'Cause I have a list

of some super-high-end
beauty products that I want.

I want a three-ounce bottle
of Lab Systique's SUPER "M"

age-defying face serum.

It really just makes
your skin extra glowy.

And a bottle of Sergio
Jergoni's Luminoquintessence

Color Control Brightening Moisturizer.

It will wake up any skin tone.

Hester, you
know that's impossible!

Those products were discontinued,
like, ten years ago.

You're just gonna have to
start trawling Craigslist

for an estate sale of old French whores.

Until then, you better start praying

that this Green Meanie
doesn't kill again.

Bitch, ain't nobody got time for that!

You better take this damn ChapStick
and tell us what we need to know.

Mm-hmm.

You have my requests.

Now fly away, little birds.

Fly, fly. Fly, fly, fly.

I had a really nice time tonight.

Me, too.

You really had my back.

Surprise.

- What is going on?
- You passed the test.

What test?

You saw somebody

that society had decided
was hideous, and you chose

to look past it and see the
human being underneath.

That is something worth celebrating!

Well... thanks, I guess.

Not you. Him. We were testing him.

- What?
- Tyler,

you have truly learned the lesson

that looks aren't the
only thing that matters.

So we've decided to reward you

by purchasing the laser
for your treatment.

Wait. What?

Wait. How
did you get the money?

I asked Chad for it.

I told him it was for an experimental
weapons-grade pube laser

that was developed by
the Chinese military

to give me a permanently
stubble-free box.

He started writing the check before
I even finished that phrase.

- Thank you.
- No.

So what'd you find out, dick?

No, I-I prefer Richard.

No "Richards" go by "Dick" since Nixon.

I don't know what you're talking about.

I'm calling you "dick"
because your late.

Okay, let's start with the side stuff.

Then let's move on to Dr. Holt.

Okay, well, so, all of the girls

that I showed that picture
of your penis to...

Yeah.

...thought that it looked very nice, but

a few of them commented
about the way it, quote,

"bends at kind of an
extreme right angle."

- Continue.
- Okay.

As for, uh,

Dr. Holt and his mystery
hand, let me just say this.

Bombshell.

I cross-referenced "donated hand"

and "squash champion," and
I came up with a name:

Marshall Winthrop.

Winthrop was this
world-champion squash player.

He won a bronze medal at the Olympics.

But beating his opponents on
the court did not satisfy him.

He hated them for losing.

He considered it a sign of disrespect
to the game he loved so much.

He started cruising for squash
opponents on Craigslist.

He drew them in with
the promise of a game

against one of the world's best.

But all of them lost not only the
game, they lost their lives.

Over 600 poor souls.

Ooh.

Did... did you order me something?

Richard, we eat when we're hungry.

Not when we want to.

- Right.
- Keep going.

So Winthrop
was kind of an idiot,

because eventually the police tracked
him down through the Craigslist ads.

He was arrested before he could finish

what he must have instinctively known

was going to be his last supper...

fois gras rillettes, Cabernet
Franc, rocket salad.

Same menu Brock's hand was
subconsciously writing.

Richard, what did we say
about personal space?

I'm sorry.

He was executed by the state,
but not before he became

a full-body organ donor.

- Oh, my God.
- Uh-huh.

- That means...
- Yes.

Dr. Brock Holt has the hand

of one of the world's most
notorious serial killers.

Shouldn't this guy be under anesthesia?

He's dead.

Practicing some new techniques.

Does it bother you that when you
spank it, you're being totally gay?

- Excuse me?
- And you're celebrating

Palm Sunday with another
bro's hand, so...

These are my hands.

You know, my best bro
in college was gay.

Till he got murdered.

Which brings my next question.

Is it weird for you that the
hand that burps your worm

is the hand of a serial killer?

So now you know my secret.

What are you gonna do about it?

Oh, you'll find out.

This is driving me insane!
Most of Dean Munsch's symptoms

make sense... headaches,
chills, joint pains.

That sounds autoimmune to me.

But this...

funny walking thing...
that's messing me up!

A strange gait?

It's not a symptom for anything.

Okay, can I be totally honest with you?

I am really hungry, and I'm
having a hard time concentrating.

I've been over there scrolling through

Julianna Margulies's best Emmy
looks for the past 45 minutes.

- I know this good Chinese spot.
- The Szechuan Flavor Palace?

No. Last time I ate there, I got sick.

All right, well, you like Ethiopian
food, they got one across the street.

But they close at 9:00,
so we got to hurry up.

That's it.

You haven't been to New
Guinea lately, have you?

As a matter of fact, I have.

You know, it was the last
leg of my book tour.

May agent's assistant...
moron... screwed up,

and I was supposed to do a
book signing in Princeton,

New Jersey, and instead
she put me on a plane

to Papua, New Guinea.

Anyway, that's where I met Swando,

who is a fantastic Papuan medicine man.

And he invited me to this amazing party

where I ate this delicious sort of
custardy, eggy, scrambled thing.

Uh, most delicious
thing I've ever eaten.

What? Is there a problem?

I'm afraid you have kuru.

- What the hell's kuru?
- It's a disease

that cannibalists get
after they eat people.

- I beg your pardon.
- He's right.

It was first discovered in New Guinea

where certain tribes
would eat the bodies

of their deceased family members.

Anyone who consumed the contaminated

brain tissue would contract the disease.

Oh, no. Oh, I just remembered.

Swando's fantastic party was, in fact,

- a funeral.

Okay. Well...

So what's the treatment?

I'm sorry, Dean Munsch, but if
you already have the symptoms,

the literature states that you
have less than a year to live.

There is no cure.

Oh, my God.

This is a secret.

You can tell no one.

No one must know, because
if the board finds out,

they'll think
I'm unfit to run the hospital.

We will keep it a secret.

So then, they finally admitted
they were my parents,

but only on the condition
that I never tell anyone.

But I feel like I can
tell you, because...

I'm your boyfriend.

Say it loud and proud, Chanel #5.

I'm your boyfriend, and
you're my girlfriend.

Thank you so much for seeing the
real me beneath all these tumors.

Thank you for seeing the real me
beneath all of Chanel's lies.

Hey, I forgot to tell you. Yesterday,

It's one of my favorite
Encyclopedia Brown message boards.

And I let the Encyclopedia
Brown hive mind try

and solve the case of the Green
Meanie who attacked you.

Did you find something?

Whoa, did I ever.

You're not gonna believe this.
It's a game-changer.

Oh, hey, what's happening?

I'm going into surgery now?

That's... that's amazing!

Did you plan this? You
sneaky little girl.

Wait, wait. No, you're not supposed
to have surgery until tomorrow.

Hey, hey, I got to go.
They're wheeling me away.

Look, I love you so much, and I promise

I'm gonna keep loving
you even when I'm hot.

Baby!

Hey, did you guys know anything

about Tyler's surgery being
moved up to tonight?

There's no way that's happening,

because we just left Brock
and Cassidy, and they said

they were going home to
have a handsome contest.

It's where they try on different
outfits and see who's more handsome.

Wait, but... if Brock and
Cassidy weren't there,

then who just wheeled
Tyler into surgery?

Why are you strapping me down?

Aren't I gonna be under
some sort of anesthesia?

Hello?

Holy crap!

Please. I don't... I don't
want to die. Please.

Please. Please, no!

Please, I-I don't want to die.

Please don't...

Oh, my God.

Do you guys know what this means?

I just lost my best chance at
happiness with a really hot guy?

Definitely that.

Ladies...

...we have another serial
killer on our hands.