The Salem Stalker is on the hunt and has claimed its first (and almost second since I last wrote about the sick sociopath) victim. Salem’s beloved police chief, Abe Carver, is dead; shot in cold blood by an unknown assailant.
Didn’t I warn him about that whole “one last case before retirement thing? But Abe didn’t listen and instead chose to piss off half of Salem (well, seven of them at any rate) who went out and got their hands on some very easily obtainable guns.
If nothing else, Abe Carver’s death should ensure that Salem enacts stricter gun laws and requires security lock boxes to be strong enough to withstand more than a blow from a stiletto heel.
In one of the darker days in Salem’s history, seven people descended upon Abe and pointed their guns at him. All at the exact same moment.
Now don’t roll your eyes like that. It’s not that unbelievable. Plenty of more respectable shows have done such plotlines in the past. Why, I remember an episode of The Simpsons where the entire town of Springfield was angry at Mr Burns for blocking out the sun and all took a shot at him at the same time.
Congratulations, Days writers. You’ve achieved something truly innovative. You have managed to turn your show into a literal cartoon. I hope you’re happy.
As Abe lay dying, Lexie anxiously awaited his arrival at their son’s christening. After all, had her mother’s premonitions not warned her that Abe would face a dire fate at the stroke of noon? Lexie’s friends volunteered to look for the missing Abe.
They looked everywhere but could not locate him. Jack and Jen even arranged a meeting with an informant named Darkside who was going to use his Sith powers to find Abe. Nothing doing. Abe was nowhere to be found.
It was only when John used his super secret spy gadgets to track down Abe’s cellphone signal that they found him…in his own driveway. Fancy that. Who would have thought to check such an unusual place as Abe’s own damn house?
Thanks, John and co for your brilliance in searching for Abe everywhere but in the most obvious place. Abe would thank you himself but he’s a little indisposed as a result of not getting prompt medical attention and being left to bleed to death in his own driveway.
Abe was rushed to hospital where every attempt was made to save his life. It was too late. Sweet Abe died as Lexie collapsed into hysterical tears and had to be carried away and sedated.
The others were just as shocked. Roman even managed to squeeze a few droplets of moisture from his Botox-petrified tear ducts. He and Abe got a bit of a lovers’ farewell, with Roman speaking soft words of goodbye and kissing Abe on the forehead as he vowed to avenge his death. Partners indeed.
Adieu, Abe. You will be missed. Even by me – I actually liked him. Before he died, Roman asked Abe “Who did this to you?” as all seven suspects were for some reason gathered outside his hospital room. With his ebbing strength, the dying Abe pointed a finger at…
Maggie Horton.
Maggie did it? Man, this is the exact same episode of The Simpsons, isn’t it?
But no. Maggie’s not a suspect because everyone loves Maggie and for some reason nobody believes she did it. Hey, I don’t believe she did it either but I find it hilarious that the cops are all “Oh no, it couldn’t be you, Maggie. Even though the DiMeras and the Kiriakii and the like are instant suspects without us actually having any proof, you’re clearly innocent because we all love your restaurant food.”
The reason Abe’s last act was to point at Maggie is because she subconsciously knows who the killer is. But because of that, she’s in danger of joining Abe in the afterlife. After all, now it’s Maggie who’s hearing creepy disembodied children’s voices singing songs about her death.
Figures. Maggie finally gets screentime outside of greeting people at Tuscany and it’s because she’s going to be horribly murdered.
In order to pry the knowledge of who the killer is out of Maggie’s brain, Lexie decided to hypnotise her. Yes, Lexie knows hypnotherapy because you don’t get to be a soapie doctor by specialising in a single thing.
The resulting hyponotherapy session was possibly the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Halfway through, Lexie started shaking Maggie screaming “Tell me who murdered my husband!!!” like a crazy woman. That’s great hypnotherapy for you. What Lexie clearly neglected to tell Maggie is that she learned her hypnotic skills from watching Andre the Hilarious Hypnotist shows.
Before Lexie could permanently traumatise Maggie, Marlena walked in to save the day. She stepped in, noting that Maggie was blubbering hysterically and sounding like a hyped-up version of that
Beaker Muppet.
Marlena: Lexie, what are you doing! Hypnotherapy is not an exact science. It needs a doctor who knows what they’re doing.
Maggie: MIMIMIMIMIIMIMIMIMIMIMIMIMI!!!
Marlena: My god, she’s gone into hysterics! This requires a delicate touch.
Lexie: What do we do?
Marlena: [Punches Maggie]
Needless to say, this farcical hypnotherapy session did not yield the name of the killer. He or she was still at large, and Maggie was high at the top of the deathlist. But she was not the only one. Jack too found himself in danger.
The fool decided to antagonise the killer live on national TV. Here was what he said (paraphrased): “Hey evil killer, I got the goods on you. Please come and KILL ME at once. I have painted a bullseye on my back for your convenience.”
Oh what a stupid thing to do. But I don’t blame Jack, not at all. It’s the evil writers who are doing this to him, making him act like a brainless buffoon. The writers hate Jack. Even Alice knows this. When Jen fretted to her about what Jack had done, Alice said that you can’t blame Jack for that.
The next move of the *bleep!* evil writers who hate Jack was to have an episode where the dapper, amazing, lovable Jack of old was back. “Look at what a perfect husband he is,” they shouted as he made Jen breakfast in bed and decided to buy her a locket. “Oh what a wonderful father too,” they added as Jack played the caring and understanding dad to his daughter.
All of this cruel emotional manipulation was to sharpen the pain when the killer hit Jack over the head with a brick. Noooooooo!!! *bleep!* you, evil writers! Not Jack!
(I suppose I should be grateful that there weren’t a bunch of scenes where our seven suspects were shown stalking purposefully towards Jack with bricks in hand.)
Now Jack hovers between life and death. Will he survive the writers’ malicious manipulations? Hope is well, hopeful:
Jen: Oh my gosh, Hope. I’m so worried about Jack.
Hope: Have faith, Jen. Bo and I were also dealt terrible head injuries and we turned out fine…turned out fine…turned out fine.
Now our attention turns to something else extremely important: how the bloodshed and trauma has affected the state of Belle’s hymen. Abe’s murder had a profound effect on our Belle, causing her to question the unpopped state of her cherry.
It seems that Belle suffered an existential crisis when Abe was killed. She learned something that most of us learn by the time we hit puberty, namely that there’s no such thing as forever and happy fairytale endings. Thus she decided she wanted to start seizing the day, and consummate her relationship with Shawn. Carpe sexem.
Everyone from Shawn to Mimi to Caroline was shocked at Belle’s Cassiefication. Lord almighty, here was Belle acting like a normal young woman, suddenly! Wanting to live her life and have sex with her longterm boyfriend! What madness had possessed her?
Belle tried to pop the golden cherry with Shawn but didn’t quite get the reaction she expected:
Belle: Abe’s death has taught me that life is short. We can’t afford to believe in idealistic fairytales and must start to live in the real world. That’s why I want to make love to you, Shawn.
Shawn: What?! Belle, I know Abe’s death shook you. But you’re not yourself right now. We really shouldn’t.
Belle: I’ve thought pretty hard about this actually. I’m sure. So take your shirt off already.
Shawn: It’s not that I don’t want to, you understand. It’s you that I’m thinking about. I don’t want you to do something you really don’t want to do and end up regretting.
Belle: Trust me, I really want to do it. There will be no regrets. Do you think the couch or the bed will be more comfortable?
Shawn: Belle, I know this isn’t what you want. Your groping hands, hungry lips and unhooked bra strap all say yes, but your eyes say no.
Belle: Right, whatever. I like the couch, don’t you?
Shawn: Belle, please don’t make me do this! You don’t want to wake up the morning after, crying into your cereal and filled with self-loathing as you wonder why the sex wasn’t as good as in your fantasies involving Rex.
Belle: Ribbed or cherry-flavoured…wait, what was that part about Rex?
Shawn: Er…that I hate him and he tried to kill my parents?
After Shawn had run away screaming, he ran into Mimi and they discussed Belle’s shocking transformation. Why, here she was believing no longer believing that premarital sex wasn’t all dirty and icky compared to wedding night sex which involves sparkles and fireworks and an angelic choir. Whatever next?
Mimi: I’m worried about Belle. What could she possibly be thinking? Everyone knows you two are destiny.
Shawn: She almost took advantage of me! Does her purity ring mean nothing to her?
Mimi: Not like me and Rex. He’s the worst boyfriend ever. We don’t have purity rings like you guys. All we have is incredible, mindblowing sex.
Shawn: Mindblowing sex with Rex, you say? Tell me more.
Mimi: Shawn, I wish my lovelife was like yours and Belle’s, chaste and boring and full of excessive naive expectations that will undoubtedly burst come the disappointing wedding night, instead of the hot sexfest with a rich, gorgeous genius that mine and Rex’s is.
Shawn: You’re still not giving me enough details about these hot sexfests.
Mimi: What do you think I should do about my disappointing relationship with Rex?
Shawn: Meems, if Rex is not treating you like the catch you are, then I say dump his tight, toned ass at once. Then he’ll be available for me to nail him.
Mimi: You’re right. I need to stand up for myself and…wait, what was that part about nailing Rex?
Shawn: For trying to kill my parents of course. Murderous bastard. Sexy, sexy murderous bastard.
Rex showed Mimi just how insane her concerns over their relationship were when Rex spontaneously came up with a romantic night wherein he danced and lipsynced for her in his underwear, cooked her a soufflé, wrote her a song, and confessed his deepest feelings for her.
Now tell me, is Mimi not nuts for being disappointed with her relationship with Rex? I don’t care if he has blackouts in which he may have committed murder, he’s the best boyfriend ever and I will gladly take him if Mimi doesn’t want him.
As for Belle’s cherry, her momentary lapse into realistic expectations was only temporary. After paging through a photo album full of Salem’s ‘destined’ couples (including John and Marlena who conceived Belle through an adulterous tryst on a boardroom table, yay destiny!) she once more embraced purity.
Shawn: Does that mean the old Belle is back?
Belle: Yes, I’m back.
Me: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!