Weeds 6x11

Silas, pretending to be called Mike, stops by Lars Guinard’s house again – the man who used to date Nancy in high school. They wind up talking and Silas mention’s his mom’s name. “You don’t look anything like her.” They talk some more over beer, and suddenly Silas blurts out, “I think you’re my dad.” And after dropping that on him, he takes off. Meanwhile Nancy has delivered the first load of their fierce concoction, and she asks the club owner, Hooman Jaka, if he knows where she can get fake passports. He gives her a name and address, “for her man.” She asks him what it is with all the oppression of women. “You guys scare the shit out of us,” he says honestly. Then Andy goes to the office of this fancy businessman, Daoud Mahmed. “That fucking piece of shit cocksucker, I spit on Hooman!” Later, at his home, it transpires that Mahmed’s daughter is actually about to marry Hooman. Since Andy doesn’t have enough money for all the passports, Mahmed proposes that Andy makes sure the marriage isn’t going to happen. Briefly pondering if that means sleeping with his gorgeous daughter, Andy says, “Okaaaay, you mean break them up!” “Not good enough,” Mahmed wants Hooman dead.

For his part, Shane lets it slip that Nancy isn’t going to stay for much longer with Warren, who freaks out, unwittingly drinks Andy’s magic potion, starts bouncing and acting all zany. (Richard Dreyfuss may actually be having even more fun than the audience!) But what I really want to know is who this “Ellis Tate” is, the guy who approached Nancy in the cemetery. Warren isn’t much of a help, “the big black guy? No! Oh, no, fat girl. Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” She stops by the school library to check the year books, meanwhile getting scolded for calling a classmate a prude, and finds that Ellis was in fact a fat girl – and not a nebbish looking guy. Curious, as always, and no doubt worried, she can’t help but call fake Ellis. She lures him out of his motel room, breaks in, finds loads of news paper clippings, photos, discs and files – about herself and her family. Then he barges back in. He’s a journalist, Vaughn Coleman, wanting to write her story – and he’s offering to help her expose the criminals, before they get to her. If he can find her, they will, too, soon. She agrees – I must say, a tad surprisingly – and starts telling her side of the story.