8-12 “Seven Little Indians” (part 2 of 2)

Happy Halloween everyone! I hope it’s cold and dark and foggy and spooky wherever you are. Remember that if you wear a costume, it’s supposed to be scary so that the free-roaming Halloween souls don’t inhabit your body.

But first things first. I left you all shivering with antici-pation yesterday in part one of the recap of this episode. Andy was dead, George Clooney was probably dead, and some weird guy who looks like Rod Serling is creeping around saying “Tootie.”

WHATEVER WILL BECOME OF THE GIRLS AND BEVERLY ANN?

When we return from commercial break, the girls are nervously sitting around the living room waiting for their next move. Recall that as far as they know, George went to get the police, and they’re expecting the police any minute now. Beverly Ann continues to be insistent about shoving hot cocoa down their throats, and she comes from the kitchen with a thermos, insisting they’ll all feel better after a hot drink. Tootie doesn’t think she’ll feel better until George gets back with the police.

Suddenly a bowling ball rolls out from the closet, and irritable Jo wants to know who’s been messing with her stuff. She gets up to return it to the closet, and finds…

The girls panic. Natalie wants to get the hell out of dodge, but Tootie insists that they should stay in. She posits that the killer saw George leave, then killed him and brought his body back inside as a message. Once again she hears something (leading Natalie to conclude that Tootie is indeed a bat). For no apparent reason and caused by no apparent force, red fuzzy dice come rolling down the staircase. Then, the power goes out, the house goes dark, and everyone screams.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!

When the lights come back, Blair, Beverly Ann, and Jo peer cautiously out of the kitchen. Tootie comes out of the closet, responding to the others’ shock at her willingness to bunk with a dead guy with a completely sensible, “At least I knew he wasn’t gonna hurt me.” Truth. Little did she know then how many women would come to envy her time in a closet with George Clooney. It’s probably a dummy in the slicker though, and I don’t mean that as a suggestion about George’s intelligence, which I understand is quite respectable.

The only one missing now is Natalie.

After the obligatory “craps” joke, Blair comments on what a whimsical way that is to die. Very Natalie indeed.

Tootie begins a dramatic soliloquy about the death of her best friend. Beverly Ann says they have to figure out some way to get help.

Suddenly Blair suggests her cellular phone. Thanks, B. You might’ve come up with that a lot sooner. Apparently, though, it’s not a real phone, just a hotline to Tiffany’s, but they can call the police after Blair orders something to wear to Natalie’s funeral. Okay then. Blair rushes upstairs to call.

Tootie continues the dramatics, exclaiming that they’re going to die, hunted and killed by a maniac like Dave, the killer from the horror movie they just saw.

Beverly Ann is still discomfited, and it’s not just because of Tootie’s dramatics. What’s bothering her is where the dice came from. They realize that if someone set them in motion, that person is probably still upstairs, where Blair just went!

They comment that she’s completely stiff, and it looks like she was moussed to death! Oh well, at least she went out doing what she loved best – looking at herself.

Only Beverly Ann, Jo, and Tootie are left. We find them at the table with Beverly Ann still insisting on the Goddamn cocoa. Our mysterious Rod Serling stand-in muses on the power of the thermos, which is, I admit, an extremely useful device. Also, Tootie. He likes saying Tootie.

Beverly Ann comments that since Natalie and Blair died after they locked all the doors, the killer must be one of them! Tootie insists it isn’t she, and Jo and Beverly Ann both say it isn’t either of them either. Beverly Ann says they’ll just have to wait for one of them to kill another one of them, and then they’ll know! She takes a sip of her cocoa.

See, I knew there was something fishy about that cocoa. Beverly Ann dramatically dies on the couch to the sounds of Beethoven’s fifth.

Jo is shocked. She can’t believe “sweet little Tootie” is a murderer! Tootie insists it isn’t her, and she says she’s going straight to the police. Jo encourages her to get out of the house, so Tootie insists on going the other way, through the store. Jo has no problem with that. Tootie flees out the front door of the shop, and Jo blockades the door behind her.

Fade back to the living room, where Tootie sneaks back into the front door, weapons in hand.

She continues to tiptoe toward the shop in search of Jo, stopping briefly to complain about the background music, whose volume is making it difficult for her to be sneaky. She moves slowly into the shop. Jo is nowhere in sight, until Tootie looks down.

Sadly, Jo has croaked.

With this evidence, Tootie can only conclude that Jo was right; Tootie is the murderer. She dramatically exposits that she must have multiple personalities; six faces, each responsible for a different murder. Andy, George, Natalie, Blair, Beverly Ann, and Jo.

“And then there was Tootie!”

Huh? Where did that voice come from?

Tootie: “Blair! But I thought you were…”
Blair: “Dippity Dooed?”

Blair: “That’s what I wanted everyone to think! It made it easier to get rid of the rest of you!”
Tootie: “You? You’re the murderer? Blair, that’s so inconsiderate.”
Blair: “Don’t you see? It’s part of my plan to eliminate everyone that falls below the fifty percent tax bracket!”
Tootie: “But we were your friends!”
Blair: “My friends don’t wear polyester! They don’t drive motorcycles or ramblers! They don’t buy their shoes at the supermarket!”<
Tootie: “I get mine from Paris, honest!”
Blair: “Too late, Tootie! You’re hopelessly middle class!”

So, Beverly Ann was just dreaming! The girls are now home, and they wake up Beverly Ann and learn the story we’ve just experienced. Tootie is still terrified by the movie. She hears footsteps. Beverly Ann assures her that it’s just George, whom she called to check on them. There’s a knock on the door, and Tootie opens it.