Well, making matters worse for this Little Documentary That Couldn't was Danny's news that Nehemiah wouldn't be getting out of jail until 5:30 PM and was now facing $4,000 of fines and up to a year in prison. Great. That's just what this doc needs: more delays. Thanks for being accommodating, AUSTIN POLICE DEPARTMENT. Don't they realize that a very important short-subject film needs to be filmed? I bet they wouldn't have treated Spielberg this way.

Nevertheless, Nehemiah did eventually return to the mansion where he was greeted with warm hugs from the girls. "Nobody hugged me when I came home from jail," Johanna said begrudgingly. That's because people don't have sympathy for horticultural theft, bitch.

As Nehemiah shook the prison cobwebs off his brain, he told us that the stress of the documentary was what caused him to fight. So you see, by placing the entire project on his shoulders, it was really the roommates's fault he got thrown in jail. Actually, it really was Rachel and Lacey's fault the most. And, well, let's face it, we all know Lacey calls the shots of that group. So basically, Lacey -- thanks a lot for getting Nehemiah thrown in jail. Maybe next time you should think before you speak.

Never one to treat any situation with tact, Wes immediately pushed for all the sordid details, and a smiley yet visibly traumatized Nehemiah (prison butt sex, anyone?) explained that the night before, somebody had pushed him, and so he swung back with a vicious punch. Sounds like a perfectly rational decision. Nehemiah sort of laughed it off uncomfortably, but his smile was soon replaced with a look of dread and fear as Wes bluntly informed him that he was facing up to a year in prison and $4,000 in fees. He then added, "So anyway, Wren has been acting really distant lately, and I think I should make out with Johanna again, but then I was thinking that I could just get any groupie anytime I want. But then Wren really means a lot to me. What do you think?"

With guilt weighing him down (not to mention his gigantic Ethiopia pendant), Nehemiah set out to right what was wrong. Yes, he returned to the scene of the crime, which just so happened to be a bratwurst shack. After a quick hot-dog-laden bit of B-Roll, we found Nehemiah introducing himself to Jonathan, the owner/manager of "Best Wurst Bratwurst" and woeful victim of Neh's fist. The guy seemed nice and was impressed that Nehemiah returned to apologize, but let's be honest people. Had Nehemiah's very presence not included the fringe benefit of nation-wide publicity courtesy of MTV, would Jonathan have been so receptive to the apology? Probably not. Yeah, we see right through this bratwurst sham. Or should I say... bratwurst shame.

Well, with inspirational music playing, Nehemiah sat down to the Avid and got to work. He was turning his life around, man! Rising up from the bratwurst-coated hell of the Austin penal system. Nehemiah was gonna rock this doc, and we were going to be right there with him as he redeemed himself once and for all!!! Actually, never mind. That's boring. Let's watching the roommates get drunk instead.

Clearly not learning anything from the saga of Nehemiah's drunken incarceration, the roommates hit the town and got drunk. One Wes-grinding-on-a-girl montage later, we knew were gonna be in for a real treat when the Bunim/Murray drunken cam came out in full force. You know what I'm talking about: blurry images, wobbly cross-fades. It only means one thing: chaos ensues. Sure enough, a wasted Wes stumbled around the house, barely able to take a step before tumbling over into an American Eagle pile of poseur lameness. "I gotta walk around a little bit," he told his roommates before ambling into Melinda's closet. I'm sure there was no intended subtext to it, but seeing Wes retreat into the closet felt oddly appropriate and symbolic. Unfortunately, this poetic image was soon destroyed quite literally as Wes tore down the closet door and began a rampage of unmotivated destruction (well, I shouldn't say it was unmotivated. I'm sure childhood traumas and parental neglect surely fueled this pseudo-rage). Anyway, Wes moved from the closet door to the "orgy bed room" where he tossed a pillow with reckless abandon, rightfully frightening some random girl who happened to be in there. And honestly, is there anything more scary than an airborne pillow thrown from the hands of a drunken clown? I didn't think so.

Posted by B-side on November 19, 2005 4:34 PM