Before we dive into the narrative here, may I humbly yet persistently entreat someone to initiate a petition, urging for Rob Riggle's Gil Thorpe to make at least five appearances per season from this juncture onward? Is such a request excessive? Are we limited to merely small doses of his charm? I am uncertain and yearn for enlightenment. Thorpe, Thorpe, Thorpe, indeed!
"Modern Family," akin to any sitcom aspiring to a prolonged run, intermittently reveals to us fragments of the characters' backgrounds. The delightful revelation that virtually all of Cameron's backstory unfolds in the guise of "Tales From the Farm" has been a delightful respite. It has been quite some time since we've been enchanted by such yarns, and any tale culminating in "tell that to the cow-shaped hole in my bedroom wall" is predestined for success, particularly when it revolves around a lost tooth.Assuming a revisit to Cam's familial abode in Missouri is on the horizon, this serves as a thoughtful prelude to a storyline where Cameron's outrageous tales might just be proven truthful. Mitchell, the perpetual skeptic, will then be forced to swallow his pride—perhaps quite literally. Additionally, has there ever been speculation that Eric Stonestreet's dual Emmy victories were largely attributed to his expressive hand gestures during his solo narration segments? It's a dance of motion, utterly unparalleled and unimitable.
Lily stands as a skeptic of the Tooth Fairy's existence while being disillusioned by the fairy's tardiness. Yet, she retains enough belief to harbor a fairy-catching net beneath her pillow. It's somewhat of a missed opportunity that she doesn't attempt to ensnare Haley with the net later, though it still adds a charming touch. By morning, Lily will have forgotten her failed capture, waking up instead to a crisp $100 bill beneath her pillow. Cam and Mitch suddenly find themselves ensnared in the all-too-plausible nightmare of being the parents who rewarded their daughter with a Benji for a tooth. Imagine the scrutinizing glances at school functions!
When the Tooth Fairy's plea from Tooth Dakota fails to sway Lily, Haley steps in, donning a viciously pink substitute outfit. She captivates Lily for a mere twenty seconds before uttering "tooths." Truthfully, it's astonishing Haley managed to sustain her charade that long—we're dealing with Lily, the girl equipped with the keenest B.S. detector on the show. Haley inadvertently taps into some Santa Claus mythology, ultimately convincing Lily to relinquish the $100. A clever save, Haley. Enjoy your adventures wherever you venture in that Tooth Fairy getup. Stay safe.
Haven't we ever delved into the enigma of how Jay amassed his fortune from a seemingly unassuming closet business? Could that be the hidden goldmine of today? Am I, perhaps, guilty of gross misunderstanding? At the Pritchett-Delgado abode, aptly nicknamed "The Citadel Erected by Closets," Jay endearingly attempts to convince everyone that his venture is, in fact, fascinating. Meanwhile, Gloria, whose screen presence some critics have lamented as having dwindled into a lackluster or overly stereotypical Latina portrayal this season, fires off some incisive remarks. ("I've always harbored dreams of penning thrillers," Jay ponders aloud. "Like that hat tale, huh?" Gloria retorts tartly. "Hey, I invested in a typewriter," Jay defends himself. "When's your book launch? 1975 flashback?" Gloria scorches him with sarcasm. Stage exit, left.) Gloria then drives a poignant dagger into Jay's sloth-like napping routines. (Or perhaps it's just me feeling the sting—naps are a sacred, wondrous delight!) Gloria is absolutely blazing tonight.
Spurred on, Jay decides to put his alleged dream to the test and embarks on penning his long-gestating spy novel featuring Chuck Stone, a clever callback to his recent viewing of 'Skyfall' a couple of episodes prior. Inspiration, however, proves slow in coming. Jay allows Stella, the pooch, to clatter out a few words. His BLT sandwich dribbles onto the keyboard. He obligingly reads aloud his nascent masterpiece, to general amusement. Manny, the ModFam's poet laureate, swoops in to seize the reins. We forgive the quaint notion of a child versed in the ways of a typewriter in 2013, solely because it promises us the delights of Manny's thriller prose.
Unfortunately, Gloria finds her son's fictional efforts as wanting as Manny found Jay's. It seems none in this household possesses the knack for crafting a decent spy thriller, no matter how vividly they envision Tom Berenger in the lead role. Manny and Jay are left to bask in the self-assured belief that Gloria is mistaken and that they are destined for glory on airport bookshelves, alongside luminaries like Vince Flynn and Brad Thor.
Over in Dunphville, Phil prepares for Luke's Career Day with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Haley and Alex's instant excuses for never inviting their father to any such event evoke Ryan from 'The Office,' who deployed an arsenal of excuses to avoid spending time with the equally cringe-worthy Michael Scott. Claire attempts a quintessential Dunphian pun, only to be shot down by Phil, the very man who had just unveiled a real estate sign reading, "Everything I touch turns to SOLD." Come on, Phil. Don't monopolize the spotlight with your so-bad-it's-good wordplay, huh? The Dunphys are already posing a serious threat to the universe of puns, even Phil's brilliant "Gil-ty of being a Thorpe in my side" receives a flat "trying too hard" stamp of disapproval from Luke.
