Roswell
Destiny (2)

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Outside at Indeterminate Rocky Locale, Porno forlornly removes his UPC-symbol badge (he never quite recovered from receiving that letter from Kellogg's telling him they were out of secret decoder rings, and I feel like he's never truly bonded with the badge) and places it in his pocket. Rather than doing just about anything, Porno is listening to his CB for the first time since the car came rolling off the assembly line, just in time to hear two officers discussing the disappearance of "six kids altogether and the sheriff." At this point, a sixteen-ton Acme weight marked "Foreshadow" plunges out of the sky to smash me into the floor of a ravine several miles below the weight's point of origin, all to hilarious animated effect. I push it off me, stand up, pop back into three dimensions, and brush the chirping cartoon birds away from my head just in time to hear a strangely Pierce-like officer responding to a request that "somebody ought to look in on . . . the sheriff's boy." Someone's looking in on him right now. Do you think Kyle is perhaps in some kind of danger? Dang, that weight thing really hurt!

Oh, wait. I actually like the refreshingly Liz-free portion of this sequence. Cut back and forth between this week's wacky caper in front of the Crashdown and the previously referenced agent showing up at the Valenti household. Kyle, a throwback to a simpler time when this show was a completely different kind of hilariously dumb, demands to know what the agent is doing at his house. Cut to the Alienmobile, in which Tesla and Liz sit silently under the ever-concealing bright desert sunshine. Nosiree, can't see them through that impenetrable disguise. Isabel and Michael walk in front of an agent-toting van, and Tesla makes the driver believe that he is seeing Pierce. Meanwhile, she performs the same magic voodoo trickery at the Valenti house, where the suited agent turns and addresses his responses to barked orders at absolutely no one. Through the Pierce hologram, Tesla informs both agents to meet him at another unspellable rendezvous point (sigh, fine -- HON-doh) at a given time. Kyle, incredulous as hell and none too pleased to be called into the script at pretty much the discretion of anyone who isn't him, shouts a "hey" to the suited agent, snapping him out of his Pierce-ified revelry and back into this world again. The following exchange, infuriating for a college lecture tour's worth of reasons, ensues:

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Roswell

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