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And Andre's going as Han Solo.

Oh!

The boys are stormtroopers

and little baby Ben is an ewok.

- Oh! - Oh!

Aw, you don't have enough children.

Happy Halloween parties, everyone.

You all look great... ham.

- Pig. Let me guess.

You're a flimsy excuse to be shirtless,

wearing silk underwear.

- And you are as wrong as you are welcome.

Now, this year, I planned a two-person costume with Annie.

She's going as my ring girl.

Pretty freaky-deaky, huh?

- Annie, no. I meant the boxing match ring girl.

They're the sexy ones that hold the round numbers.

Yeah, see?

This is why we can't just text about it, Jeff.

I don't watch sports.

But there's no boxer in the ring.

- Yeah, well, I don't watch scary movies.

- And that's why we leave the couples' costumes

to the couples, she said wisely.

- You should probably warn your boyfriend's boyfriend.

Just because we're dating doesn't mean

that we have to do everything together.

- Well, you need to do some things together.

We do some things.

We do a lot of things.

Not all the things.

Things.

- Okay, so, we're all here, minus Pierce,

who wasn't invited to Vicki's party

for reasons beyond ourcontrol or concern.

- No mystery there. She put a pencil through his face.

- Does Vicki have a TV? - Abed, it's a party.

You're not watching TV. - No, I'll be watching Annie.

She started watching Cougar town re-runs,

which makes Annie my third favorite show,

and tonight is their hallo-wine special.

- Ooh, that's right. Better not miss the Merlot.

Clink! What? You fall into it.

That was Pierce.

He accidentally locked himself

in his panic room and he needs our help.

- Oh! - Oh!

No, "Oh!"

"Oh" means we are going against our will,

and we are not going.

He's lying.

He seemed pretty upset,

and he's been all alone up there in that mansion

ever since I moved out, and his dad, you know,

got killed by Jeff.

- Hmm, calling for help. A classic call for help.

Hello, Dr. Perry's Office. Damaged psyche?

Yes, I'll accept the charges.

Heads, lock up your brains.

Britta's on the prowl for fresh therapy meat.

- Maybe we should just stop by on our way to the party.

I assure you,

the only thing Pierce is trapped in is adolescence.

He is a geriatric toddler,

throwing the most elaborate tantrums money can buy,

and I, for one, am not gonna stand by

and allow some lonely, ridiculous person

to derail our group's plans.

- Ding, ding, ding! To your corners, fighters.

Someone save me a towel.

you guys going to Vicki's party?

We just gotta do this thing first.

Oh.

Holy Helen, this place is huge.

It seems spookier than I remember.

- Ah, the only thing spooky about this place

is the tacky decor.

It's like David Lee Roth threw up Miami Vice.

so tacky.

I don't know.

Maybe Pierce isn't doing so well

since he lost his father and then his inheritance

in a video game battle with Gilbert,

an illegitimate half-Brother he never knew he had.

I guess I've never said it out loud.

Guys, over here.

Mr. Hawthorne's panic room,

one of the 27 stops on the guided tour

I had to memorize before moving into Hawthorne Manor.

Does the house get many visitors?

You're the first.

Impenetrable titanium carbonite door,

Hacker-Proof key-Code access panel,

and impressive video telecom screen with remote.

Maximum occupancy one, with female companion.

Purchased June 30, 1989.

It took me forever to remember that date.

June 30, 1989.

Theatrical release of do the right thing.

oh!

Oh.

Wait!

It might be a trap. Or it might let him out.

Either way, we-- - Oh, put a sock in it, shorts.

Oh, hey, guys.

Pierce, are you okay?

- Oh, sure. Fine, fine.

I was dusting in here,

and I must have bumped a switch or something.

As the graceful one in the group,

I'm kind of embarrassed.

don't be.

I've been locked in way worse places than this.

Oh, not against my will.

Been in there long?

- No, not long, but I couldn't remember the damn code.

Sorry to be a burden on you guys,

but I guess that's all I am now.

- oh! - Oh!

- It's okay. We're happy to help.

Yeah, no sweat, boba fett.

- Yeah. Do you have a TV?

- What Abed means is, did you write the code down anywhere?

- Yes. It's in a red notebook in my study

or my bedroom, maybe.

I used to know where everything was

before I fired my maid.

Now there's no reason to use my safe.

- that's okay. We'll find it. It'll take two secs.

- Or we take one sec and just skip to the catch.

This place has not been dusted in months,

and he starts with the panic room?

No sale. He's not a sad old man.

He's a sad old liar. - Jeffrey!

- No, no, he's right. I've been lying to you.

The truth is, last night, I got up

to get a glass of red W--Uh, water,

and on my way back from the cellar,

I saw something that scared me so badly,

I locked myself in here, on purpose.

The part about not remembering the code is True.

I'm very thirsty.

Why didn't you call me sooner?

- I had to come up with that awesome dusting story

because if you knew what spooked me,

you'd probably call me crazy and old.

No one's gonna call you, Pierce.

- You can tell us. We're here to help you.

- I thought I saw my dad. - Oh!

- It looked like his face was coming right through the wall,

but that's impossible, because my dad is dead.

aha!

I mean, not, aha, your dad is dead,

But, aha, I knew it.

Ghost dad, exploring your haunted mansion

for secret codes?

Nice try, Pierce. You gotta be kidding me!

What in the Scooby-Doo is happening to you people?

- Jeff, just go to the party, and we'll meet you there.

We're gonna stay here and help Pierce.

- He doesn't need help. He needs attention.

Are you really this naive? - Am I naive?

I'm sure as stuff not your sexy little ring girl.

- I-- - Can it, ham.

She's also my ride.

Troy said--

- Pierce's bedroom is the third door on the left.

I didn't leave my short-term memory at Coachella.

Jeez, Winger, keep it above the belt.

- I'm sorry. - Ah, already forgotten.

This house is getting to me.

- I know. Kind of weird that a dead person used to live here.

- No, what's weird is that a living person lived here

with his parents, well into his 60s.

Then they died, and he's still here,

like a paralyzed Peter Pan.

Not for long.

I'm gonna set my shrink-ray to daddy issues

and blast that sucker full of closure.

Well, I guess it can't hurt.

- Exactly, because, in one way or another,

therapy is always helpful.

No, because there's no possible way

you could mess him up worse.

It's like practicing on a cadaver.

Knock yourself out.

This has got to be it.

ugh.

I wish I didn't have so much exposed skin.

agh.

Tubular.

I, too, lack the adjectives.

- Now, how does one search for a red notebook

that doesn't exist without looking, touching,

or creating future nightmares?

I'll check the nightstand.

I'll check my messages.

Oh, my God.

Pierce keeps his dad's bowtie by his bed.

Yeesh.