3:00 AM – 4:00 AM

Episode Report Card
Gustave: B | Grade It Now!
And she said, "Kiefer, it's 3 AM and I'm feelin' lonely."

Previously on 24, Kiefer shoots district director Xander Berkeley with a tranquilizer gun and blackmails him for information about the source of information about the assassination while Nina disapproves. Soul Patch tattles. Kiefer confronts Nina about the key card. Senator Huxtable is trying to suppress allegations that his son killed his daughter's rapist on the eve of the California presidential primary. Ira Gaines calls the evil frat boys to check on their capture of Spawn of Kiefer. The frat boys tell him that everything's "copa." Spawn tries to escape from her kidnappers and puts a call in to her mother, who calls 911. Poor Man's Mena Suvari is hit by a car and doesn't die, ensuring that the laughter and sick thrills inspired by her multiple misfortunes will continue for many episodes to come.

We resume our story right where we left off -- with the side-splittingly hilarious sight of PMMS lying in the middle of the street. Furthermore, the DP has added even more sickness by shooting her from a truncated angle, making her near-lifeless body look like a piece of street trash. A car passes and slows down. Does someone stop to help her? Au contraire. The driver yells at her to get her drunken ass off the street. A homeless person walks by. Princess Roadkill uses all her remaining energy -- energy that hasn't yet been sapped by the roofies, the crowbar to the arm, the heroin, the unsuccessful run from her captors, the impact of a speeding automobile, and the painful realization that has to have sunk in by now that her boyfriend is in league with terrorists and was merely using her to kidnap her friend -- to reach out her hand to signal that she needs help. Her gesture is ignored. She puts her head down again. I wet my pants. Several yards away, the evil frat boys are dragging Spawn of Kiefer back to The Purple Van Of Teen Impertinence. Now, if I were being detained by a couple of people who were probably going to kill me judging by their callous treatment of my best friend, I wouldn't be "struggling" so much as I'd be kicking, screaming, biting, pulling hair, and gouging out my captors' eyes. Spawn's protests look more like the kind of coy fight put up by a drunken sorority girl about to be thrown into a Ft. Lauderdale motel pool. "Don't, guys! If my Fuddruckers t-shirt gets wet, you'll be able to see right through it!" They force Spawn into the van. She argues that -- get this -- they should to go back and get PMMS because she needs their help. Spawn? I think it's quite apparent that, at this point, PMMS is much better off lying facedown on a moist street than inside The Purple Van Of Teen Impertinence. And speaking of Princess Roadkill, we are treated to yet another shot of her lying in the street, babbling incoherently. The Evil Frat Boys have another power struggle when Rick sort of sides with Spawn and EFB2 accuses him once again of being her bitch. "We can't just leave her in the street!" shrieks Spawn. Why not? It's hilarious!

Back at CTU, Nina is giving Kiefer the cold shoulder over the whole mole misunderstanding, and it looks for a moment like Kiefer is going to lose his coffee-room hummer privileges for a while. So, remember how Walsh told Kiefer not to trust anyone in the CTU office with information except Jalapeno Spice? Well, in order to get back into Nina's good graces, Kiefer spills everything: Walsh's death, Deep Throat Jr.'s death, the possibility of an insider being involved with the assassination, and the nature of the key card. Nice going, Kiefer. You kept that to yourself for -- what -- two hours? And you work for the CIA? I've seen Monica Lewinsky keep her mouth shut longer. Anyway, Nina loses the attitude and Kiefer decides that Nina, Jalapeno, and himself are to stick together and trust no one else. He tells Nina to work with Jalapeno to retrieve information from the card, and excuses himself to make a call. I would just like to say here that as annoying as Nina is, I have to give props to actress Sarah Clarke for her pitch-perfect delivery of these ambiguous facial expressions that are still keeping me guessing whose side she's on.

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