PREVIOUSLY ON LOST:
PILOT: So, we have a little time and the auto-pilot’s on. How ‘bout you tell me about the island?
JACK: Well, we lived on the beach, mostly, except for the time we lived in the cave with the skeletons and the time we lived in the secret underground bunker with the lending library and the time we lived in the village built by the scientists that the people who don’t age gassed to death with the help of their leader, my third nemesis, the nebbishy con man with spine cancer, which we took over when the freighter people came to kill everybody. We ate wild boar and fish, and then the supplies stashed in the storeroom of the bunker, and then the scientists who the people who don’t age gassed to death were nice enough to replenish our food by airdrop, but only once, but that was okay, because the people who don’t age had some agriculture that we completely ignored while we stood in front of their refrigerators with the doors open. And I saw my dead dad just hanging around on the island, which I didn’t think too much about because I was preoccupied with the smoke monster and the baby stealing and the mind games with the nebbishy guy and my TOTALLY AWESOME tattoo which got my ass kicked in Thailand and the power struggle with my second nemesis, the formerly paralyzed bald survivalist mystic, who was, frankly, nuts.
PILOT: Nuts, you say?
JACK: Yeah, man of faith, thought the bunker wanted you to punch Hurley’s lotto numbers into the computer every few hours, and I was like, it’s a GAME, you lose, sucker.
JACK: So he finally came around after the shipwrecked sailor who lived in the bunker for two years told him that you had to punch the numbers, which obviously meant you didn’t have to punch the numbers. Which, come to think of it, I guess he was right in the first place. Missed the numbers, cratered the whole freaking bunker, knocked the guy who used to live there right into last Tuesday. Literally.
Oh, I forgot to mention that my dead father came back and kidnapped my secret sister.
PILOT: Um, okay. So … happy to be getting back?
JACK: Yeah, you know, I’m looking forward to having the time to grow a beard.
PILOT: How about you, freckles?
KATE: Don’t call me that.
KATE: You know, I’m a convict. I didn’t even want to get off the island. I killed my boyfriend.
PILOT: So what was so good about the island?
KATE: Well, when my boyfriend and I …
PILOT: The dead guy?
KATE: What? No, Jack. My boyfriend and I had a good thing going on the beach and in the cave and in the bunker, except for everybody dying and the smoke monster. And then our friend led us into a trap, even though we knew it was a trap, but it was okay, because while we were captured I got it on with my boyfriend in a cage …
PILOT: With Jack?
KATE: What? No, Sawyer. Jack was watching, though. Anyway, I got back together again with Jack, kind of, but he was really into this doctor that the gassy people kidnapped from Oregon, and then I got back together again with Sawyer, and then I left him for Jack. I forgot to mention that I had a nice proper date with a new dress and dinner on the beach …
PILOT: With Jack or Sawyer?
KATE: What? No, with the nebbishy spine cancer con man who loves me – KEEP UP. But it didn’t go well, which is why I ended up having sex in the cage in the zoo.
PILOT: There was a zoo on the island?
KATE: What? No, different island. The polar bears on our island were free-range.
PILOT: Well, at least I understand how you have a baby.
KATE: What? No, he’s not mine. The island is actually a contraceptive, THANK GOD.
PILOT: Okay, forget it. You, what’s your story?
SUN: Pretty simple, really. I was trying to run away from my emotionally abusive hit-man husband, but he was on the plane with me when we crashed. So I pretended not to speak English for a while, and then I got pregnant and he’s really just a sweetheart, really. Just my luck, though, he missed the helicopter when he and our friend who killed our other friends and later went undercover on the murder-freighter on behalf of the nebbishy guy took too long unsuccessfully trying to defuse the giant bomb. So I’m going home to buy my asshole dad’s conglomerate with funding from the guy responsible for blowing up my beloved ex-soon-to-be-ex-husband, the father of the long-lost lover of our time-traveling sailor friend who was living in the secret bunker.
PILOT: Is this a joke?
HURLEY: No, all of the jokes around here are mine.
PILOT: Oh, great, tell me a good one.
HURLEY: What has two thumbs and is dead?
PILOT: I give up.
HURLEY: My girlfriend and my best friend and the French paramilitary lady and her daughter and Arzt. Wait, that’s eight-to-ten thumbs.
HURLEY: But at least I got to hotwire a 20-years-abandoned VW bus, because 1970s VW electrical systems never go bad when untended in humid weather, and drove it over Big Tom, the murderous teleporting gay non-aging gasser who sometimes wears a fake beard and wool cap that he keeps in a locker in the abandoned medical and child-care bunker.
PILOT: Okay, last guy. What’s your story?
SAYID: I tortured a shitload of people.
PILOT: I meant on the island.
SAYID: I tortured a shitload of people.
PILOT: That all?
SAYID: Got tortured.
PILOT: Well, new day, and all that. What are you going to do now?
SAYID: Go to work for a guy I tortured.
PILOT: Doing what?
SAYID: Torturing, mostly.
PILOT: Say, look at the time, gotta get back and check on the autopilot.
JACK: Wait, what did we miss when we were on the island for a flexible length of time?
PILOT: Every financial institution you’ve ever heard of is out of business, America fell in love with a gay cowboy movie, and we elected a Black college professor President instead of a war hero.
JACK: We find your story implausible.