So much for that degree in TV/VCR repair.

After a heartfelt grieving period (about nine minutes) the remaining members of the Ducky family (Moey, Darth and Bruce) cashed in the insurance policy, demolished their Tiki nightmare house (it had been Phil's idea), and rebuilt the Ducky-Tiki Homo Disco (and Karaoke Bar) bigger and better than ever. Well, bigger, at least. Definitely bigger.

Needs more pink, I'm thinking.

The only thing they could do was throw The Phil Ducky Memorial Grand Reopening Homo Disco Karaoke Extravaganza. And throw they did!

"Fabulous statuary, isn't it though?" "It makes me feel gay all over!"

Darth Darkside-Ducky kicked things off with a little Karaoke action-- a rousing rendition of "Now Where Did We Put That Corpse?" Audience response was mixed-- here you see Mo Pie's apathy, Mr. T's disapproval, and Kate Winslet's tragic pain. Oh dear.

"I think my eardrum may have just shattered."

The next time I checked, Darth's singing had cleared out the Disco completely. Russell Crowe was the only person on the dance floor and Moey was left to sing terrible Karaoke all by herself. So much for that.

"Yep, still the prettiest."

This is because everyone had followed Darth upstairs to the family quarters, and were having a party of their own... in the bathroom?

"You know what would really jazz up this bathroom? Balloons!"

Darth's ulterior motives rapidly became apparent when he kicked everyone out and lured Mo Pie back into the love tub. Darth, you ignorant slut.

"Care to show me what's under that helmet, big boy?"

You can imagine that when Moey caught wind of this, she was having none of it. She grabbed Darth by the balls and dragged him out of there. Luckily for Mo Pie, someone was there to fill the void. Colonel Sanders promptly dropped trou and joined her. And this made Mo Pie feel... hungry?

"I got your twelve secret herbs and spices right here. Baby."

The next night, Colonel Sanders threw a party of his own. Despite having seen him naked the night before, a bunch of people actually showed up. Go figure.

And the party was good. ("Hey, how good was it?") Well it was so good... that Drew Carey dropped in.

"Can't we get a real celebrity in here for a change? I mean, yay, Drew Carey!"

It was so good... that Drew made a pass at Emily Dickinson, and she popped him one.

"My notice sudden is, you snake-in-the-grass!"

And it was so good... that someone set Drew Carey on fire!

"Hey... is that fried chicken I smell?"

But when the grim reaper turned up, Drew emerged from the fire unharmed. No, it was the Ghost of Kurt Cobain who was in a little smoldering heap by the pool-- it's better to burn out than to fade away. Oh Kurt, not again!

On behalf of the whole Celeb family, Colonel Sanders got on his knees and plead for his party guest's life. To no avail. The grim reaper had "no time for sniveling" and Kurt Cobain was, once again, dead.

"But he was just about to join my band!"

But the party was so good... that even after the death of a rock star who was already dead, it kept on raging. Here are Dorothy and stee, fortifying the grieving process with some cake. Now that is a good party.

"Isn't it tragic how--hey, this is mighty good cake!"