On this week’s episode of “Here Comes Honey Boo-Boo,” the thinking man’s “Gosford Park,” we first spy Alana and her Boo-Boo ilk shuffling over to the local gas station to do some shopping. The grossest one, Pumpkin (alternative: Rotted Gourd) neglects to wear shoes, but maybe the sign just says, “No Shirt No Service.”
Two pleasant people, one of whom has a heart of gold and a mouth to match, tell us that they come in so much that they keep the store in business. Much junk food is purchased, none of it with coupons.
In an abrupt change of storyline, marked by the neverending passing freight train, Alana and her father, whom she and the others he did not father call “Sugar Bear,” go out on a father-daughter “date” at the Fun Factory. This is heartwarming.
Sugar Bear just loves playing in the ball pit, with all of the balls of varying sizes, and the pit, of static depth. I’m glad to see that fun is still being manufactured in this country. I think Sugar Bear is just happy for a break from Rotted Gourd.
So there are lots of fun scenes at the Fun Factory, where fun is being made all over the place. We even meet Very Enthusiastic Fun Factory Assistant Manager, who comes out to give Sugar Bear and Alana some “training” bars so they can roller skate around the rink like octogenarians with walkers. But who needs skates when they can just ride around on the trainer bars?
Alana takes her ticket winnings from countless games of whack-a-rodent and skeeball, and goes home with that most glorious of prizes, the Sugar Bear-sized inflatable hammer.
Alas, we best get back to the real world, because, as Alana tells us, “Kaitlyn’s coming outta Anna’s moon pie any day now.” Yes, the one they call Chickadee is due to birth some sort of baked good at any moment. There’s some confusion as to how this actually works, so Pumpkin clears it up by explaining, to no one in particular, that “a baby doesn’t come out of her butt, it comes out of her biscuit.”
Alana is horrified, which is probably for the best. Chickadee is having contractions, which Alana explains is “where you pull your baby out with your biscuit.” Baked goods having babies. America!
Well, with everyone’s biscuit in a holding pattern and nothing better to do, you might as well make your own fun, which is why the family decides to play that classic game of skill, “Guess Whose Breath.” It is noteworthy that Rotted Gourd’s breath, per Alana, smells like “A-S-S” or “booty-boo,” and I mean, I wouldn’t put it past Rotted Gourd to eat pig litter in front of the United Nations Security Council, so it’s not altogether unsurprising.
Of course everyone’s breath smells like something horrible, but the most disturbing part of this game is when it’s Sugar Bear’s turn and Mama June goes in a very close — very very close — for a maybe kiss. And then, focused on Sugar Bear, we get nothing.
Please process this with me. THE FACT THAT HE PAUSES! OH DEAR COUSIN EDDIE, PLEASE SAY YOU KNOW IT’S JUNE! SAY SOMETHING, STOP THINKING, PLEASE!! THESE ARE YOUR KIDS! THE HUMANITY! Finally, he says, “That’s June,” drops the mike, and walks off stage.
Hey, free fun is fun and it’s free, so this mess could have gone on for days except that Chickadee’s biscuit done peed on the couch because she was laughing so hard. Allegedly. I say allegedly because June had to investigate to know for sure. The one-woman CSI that she is had to touch it and smell it to be 100% certain that it was, in fact, urine, so that everyone could be appropriately mortified. (Next assignment: identify neck crust composition).
Something, though, sparks in little Alana’s brain, though, because the next thing you know, they’re sitting around the table, and June is saying, “Know how we’re always trying to save money?” And everyone nods, because they’re sitting in the Coupon Birthing Room, where thousands of rolls of paper towels have been born as a result of these efforts. Alana wants to open a lemonade stand to help raise money for her pageant. For all of her theatrics, Alana probably has it together more than anyone else in this family. They start the process of putting this together, which hits a roadblock because Rotted Gourd takes her finger out of her nose to say that she doesn’t know how to spell “lemonade.”
So Mama Boo-Boo’s recipe for lemonade goes like this: (1) get out your large pot for boiling squirrel heads; (2) add five pounds sugar and two gallons of lemon juice; (3) stir until gritty, or your spoon breaks; (4) allow urchin child to taste-test straight from pot and again (Quality Assurance!) from lip of pitcher; (5) make sure your affairs are in order and call 911.
Unfortunately, their marketing plan of having barefoot and slovenly Rotted Gourd hold a sign and yell “Imma bust yer damn windows out” does not entice people in the target group (ages 15-85, pickup drivers, wearing t-shirts with beer slogans) to stop for a cool beverage. That is, until Alana takes over. “I bring home the bacon!” she reminds us while squishing her little belly again. They rein in $25 in profits, which will buy plenty of body glitter and Combos at the gas station.
Finally we get to the apex of the episode, the event for which it was named: “Time for Sketti.” Indeed. Gather, friends. It is time. WTF is “sketti?” you ponder. I’ll tell you. It’s butter, ketchup, and sketti. Forget that bourgeois jarred sauce, because the Boo-Boos are in a period of austerity. And this austerity calls for just three key ingredients. Mix together, throw it against the cabinets to see if its al dente, grab a bucket for later, and voila. ‘Cause, sketti! America! Sketti!