6.02 Fight Face. The following weekend...

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"Can I open my eyes now?"

"No."

"I don't like this being blindfolded thing."

"Really? Huh. Funny. 'Cause I always thought of you as such a spur-of-the-moment, loving-the-unknown kind of guy."

"Well, I'm not."

"Now he tells me."

"Lorelai..."

"Just a minute longer, Luke, I promise. Then all will be revealed."

"If there are any cameras in the vicinity, or Ron Popeil, I'm taking back the ring."

"Okay... Untying blindfold now... Wait----Why would Ron Popeil be here?"

"You know, Candid Camera."

"He's not the Candid Camera guy. He's the Slice-'Em-Dice-'Em guy. The Ronco guy. Although, I wonder if the Candid Camera guy is still alive? I should google..."

"Loreali!"

"What!"

"Blindfolded here!"

"Oh, right! Sorry. Here we go...There! Blindfold off... Ta-Da!"

"What's this?"

"This, my friend, is BoyWorld!"

"Boy world?"

"Don't say it like that. It's---BoyWorld!"

"Boy world..."

"We've really got to work on this echoing each other thing."

"There's a tent..."

"You should see your face right now..."

"You didn't set that up by yourself did you?"

"It's priceless..."

"I mean, if I go in there, it's not going to fall on my head or anything...?"

"Relax. Eastside Tilly helped me."

"Lorelai, why did you set up a tent in your back yard?"

"I told you. It's Boy...—"

"Boy world. I know. But..."

"No, no, Luke. It's--BoyWorld! For you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, for tonight. To get more in touch with your inner...—"

"Geez. Not that again."

"Yes, Luke, that again. It's just for fun. To relax a bit. Look, I've got an extension cord going in. See? There's a little fridge and sleeping bags with pillows, and a stuffed fish..."

"A stuffed fish?"

"BoyWorld! needs ambience too, Luke."

"Silly me."

"...And there's even a little television. You can chill out, relax, scratch, or whatever it is that guys do, and watch that game tonight. See? It's BoyWorld!"

"Stop saying that. And, which game?"

"Aren't the Blue Socks playing those Swimming Thingies or something?"

"Or something."

"Well, there you go."

"So you want me to camp here in your backyard tonight?"

"Not my backyard any more, Luke. Not tonight. Tonight: BoyWorld!"

"It does look pretty comfortable..."

"Yes, it does. And I've got beer and those big man sandwiches too. Paul Anka and I could even be persuaded to join you... if you like. Or, if not, you can just have BoyWorld! all to yourself."

"No, I'd rather have company. Yours anyway. And, could we call it something else, please?"

"We can call it whatever you like... Luke, you're smiling..."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You like BoyWorld!"

"Do you promise not to babble inanely during the game?"

"I promise my babble will not be inane during the game."

"Well... okay, then. Thanks. It looks... fun. Sorta."

"That's my boy. And, you're welcome. You'll have to kill all the bugs, you know."

"Well, sure."

"Oh, look, Luke! Paul Anka likes tents! You like tents, don't you, Paul Anka? Don't you, boy? Yes, you do. Yes, you do..."

"Wait a minute."

"What?"

"You hate sleeping outside."

"Yes."

"Well, I'll be fine here in boy...whatever... on my own. Go back and sleep in the house."

"Can't."

"Why not? I patched up the hole in the wall and managed to refrain from killing TJ. At the same time, I might add."

"I know. Admirable, by the way. And I appreciate it. But it's creepy in there now, Luke. Like that Lemony Snicket house on the edge of the cliff over the ocean..."

"So sleep in Rory's room, then."

"Can't"

"Why not?"

"It's occupied."

"Ah, geez! Is Kirk in there again?"

"No."

"Oh...You don't mean...?"

"Yes, I do. No more being in the middle for you, Mister. You're in a tent, true, but not the middle any longer."

"But... but how?"

"I yielded the high ground."

"Oh. But my point was that having the high ground doesn't mean anything... not really."

"I know."

"So that's all it took?"

"Well, that, and a part-time job at the Literacy Center. Not to mention my mother's foolish step-too-far of setting up weekly comb-outs and teasing with Miss Tina."

"That does sound like a final straw."

"Emily was relentless, God bless her. No one needs to have helmet hair before the age of twenty-one. Worth swallowing your pride every time."

"True. But meaningful work is good too."

"Yep."

"And a mom who wants the best for you."

"C'mon, Luke, must be kick-off time soon."

"Lorelai, it's baseball."

"So we get peanuts?"

"Hey, I'm proud of you, and... you are a great mom."

"Not really. But I love my kid and I'm doing the best I can."

"Well, that's good too. And... I love you, you know."

"Ah, you're a softy."

"Not in BoyWorld! I'm not. You wanna play frisbee before the game?"

"But what about my nails? I got a special 'engagement ring manicure'."

"There are no manicures in BoyWorld, sweetheart. Suck it up!"

"Man, BoyWorld! is tough. Good thing I love you, too."

"For that you get to play with the flashlight later... "

"..."

"You're gonna say it, are you?"

"Well, I was, but I'm distracted by Paul Anka right now, so I'll take a raincheck. Ooh! That's baseball talk, isn't it?"

"What's wrong with him?"

"Just guessing here, but I think he's scared of the stuffed fish."