115
Joe’s death may have dashed
the party, but the cast at
last begins to act.
116
“You’re a sucker for
punishment,” Stella says to
Rossi. So am I.
117
John Kerr’s hotness is
seriously undermined
by his goofy grin.
118
“Look,” snaps Rod, “I signed
a statement. End of sonnet.”
End of haiku, too.
119
Allison gets Kim
to talk. Trust me, so not The
Miracle Worker.
120
In the thick of it,
some doofus seeks a book on
Samuel Beckett.
121
Could Stella have worn
a frumpier hat to her
brother’s funeral?
122
One of the combs in
that counter display would do
Norm a world of good.
123
Locked in his jail cell,
Rod’s missing out on a lot
of tedious scenes.
124
Shades on, Malone makes
an entrance like the Oscar
winner that she is.
125
Artist on the wharf
staring at Stella, you’re the
strangest extra yet.
126
The ratings must have
needed a boost: Allison’s
run down by a car.
127
In fab, full-skirted
floral frock, Constance rushes
to the hospital.
128
Remember letters?
Bulldog Drummond? What about
cigarette machines?
129
Carmen Miranda
would laugh at the pathetic
fruit on that beach hat.
130
I see that Lee Grant’s
scenery-chewing has earned
her “Guest Star” status.
131
Allison’s poem.
No loss to literature
she’s in a coma.
132
Nodding-off black cop
will soon rocket to Mission:
Impossible fame.
133
Can’t take much more of
Allison’s sophomoric
poetry or prose.
134
People, there’s a huge
dent in Mrs. Fowler’s car.
Hit-and-run. Hello!
135
This episode has
more than met the quota for
brunettes with secrets.
136
She wouldn’t have hit
Allison if she’d had her
glare-free Foster Grants.
137
“Out, out, gravy spot . . .”
Dabbing Rod’s black and red tie,
Norm sullies the Bard.
138
How many costumes
were cut from the same bolt of
polka-dotted cloth?
This is the continuing story of Peyton Place . . .