“Pretty Little Liars” recap (4.18): The Pie and the Beer

 
 

You mark my words: This new Rosewood High counselor is absolutely an undercover cop. He spends half an hour to try to get Aria to open up about her relationship with her boyfriend that her friends just don’t approve of while she convinces herself that pulling away from her friends and getting closer to her boyfriend and keeping completely silent about her relationship is definitely the way to go. And then this guy, this Jesse Lindall, he busts into the permanent records room while Ezra is stealing Spencer’s academic file, all, “Whoops, thought this was the teacher’s lounge.” What’s amazing is Ian Harding as a villain. There’s a big push to take Ezra back to cream puff, I know, but I think it would completely devalue pretty much everything at this point to do that, and also watching him be a creep is so shockingly satisfying and it makes things so narratively taut that I don’t know how the show would recover. Jesse is like, “Whoo boy, do teenage girls ever love to tell everything they know!” And Ezra is like, “ORLY?”

Emily’s doorbell rings in the middle of the night, which she takes as a friendly sign since it is not an automobile smashing its way through the living room wall, so she answers in a shirt that says “I’m allergic to mornings,” like what Garfield would wear if Garfield was a lesbian goddess with legs as long as lines at Disneyland and a face as gentle as the midnight snow.

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It’s Shana, of course, and she invites herself in to rifle through Emily’s possessions like a regular old Alison DiLaurentis and explain her backstory, which means that she’s absolutely going to be dead by sunrise. Number one, she met Paige at swim camp and hooked up with her because she’s the greatest swimmer in America and also looks like Paige McCullers. Shana knew she was from Rosewood, which was a bonus, but it was a surprise jackpot when the “Emily” whose name she mumbled when they were making out tuned out t be the Emily that Ali had been telling her about. Number two, she was just looking for some extra cash when she started shipping boxes for Ian on the sly. Maybe it was bombs. Maybe it was eyeball transplant kits. Maybe it was notes from Radley. He just didn’t want students at Rosewood to know what he was doing. She messes with Emily’s snow globe from Ali, probably secretly stashing a key inside there that leads to a storage locker that leads to a lunch box that leads to a magical portal to another land.

The main thing is she needs Emily to retrieve a stash of cash from a poster of some weirdo French twins in Ali’s bedroom because girl is flat broke. In this economy a dollar doesn’t mean what it used to. Jet fuel and flux capacitors and clothes and manicures and salon appointments and talking birds and fees for elderly clairvoyants, it takes a toll on the ol’ pocketbook. Thanks a lot, Obama! Emily agrees to help.

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After pulling another all-nighter, Spencer has finally gotten a lead on the lair Ezra rented in Ravenswood, so she calls Aria and leaves a message about, “Hey, I need to tell you something you don’t want to hear and I know you probably think it’s another one of my lectures about how environmentally unfriendly all of your jewelry is, but it’s actually less about that and more about sometimes, even though we don’t realize it, we end up dating A. I mean, it happens to the best of us, right? Me and Toby, Hanna and Mona, you and … well, I don’t want to break your heart or anything, but can you just call me back?” Then she pulls the real estate listing in Ravenswood off the printer, grabs her car keys, and hops on out of there. (Honey, you should not be operating heaving machinery right now.)

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Up at the EzriAn Love ShAck, Aria is waiting for Ezra to wake up so she can request a ride back to Rosewood where all the people who love her openly and legally live. And oh, the way he does Jedi mind tricks on her brain, waving his hands in front of her face talking about, “These are not the companions you are looking for.” He is so awful! It’s incredible! He convinces her that it’s perfectly normal, preferable in fact, for a teenage girl to shun the companionship of young women her own age and spend all her energy and time and love on her teacher. By the time he’s finished talking, she’s like, “Why is my packed suitcase in this living room and why have I written the word ‘RUN’ on my palm with a Sharpie? Let’s go back to bed.” And they do.

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