Is it just me or does the alliteration motif in the episode titles seem a little forced as of late? Not that I blame them, really – it’s been eleven seasons!

Anyhoo, another day, another gruesome murder for our team to investigate. It’s also the day Brennan decides to kill off a beloved character in her new book: Agent Andy, based on Booth, is shot through the chest. Booth’s not taking it very well, and doesn’t seem like he’s going to let it go any time soon regardless of how much Brennan keeps reassuring him, in her usual ever-rational manner. Agent Aubrey’s teasing isn’t much help, either.

Angela is going to have a hard time putting the victim’s skull back together; the dead body might have been torn apart by coyote-wolf hybrids (am I the only one who didn’t know these existed?), but the skull was actually shot at close range. With a shotgun.

Still, not as hard a time as everyone at the Jeffersonian is going to have, as it’s Dr. Wells time. You know, the strange, gloomy, sarcastic, pain in the ass forensic anthropologist? Yep, he’s back, and douchier than usual, as Angela is quick to point out. The reason for this, you ask? Simple: poor Oliver is plagued with erectile dysfunction. I think it’s fair to say any guy would be pretty touchy and on edge in his shoes.

At least he apologizes for his behavior… and Cam magnanimously accepts.

-No hard feelings.

-None… whatsoever.


Luckily, Oliver isn’t the only intern helping out this time. Another forensic anthropologist joins the team… and it’s BETTY FREAKIN’ WHITE, people! Not only is she amazing and hilarious, she’s probably the only nonagenarian on the planet who doesn’t sound creepy when talking about her lovers.

She also plays fantasy football, which comes in very handy, as our murder victim did too. I can’t say I find this plot fascinating. Booth feels differently, as he too is into fantasy football (but had to quit playing because he perceived it as a gateway to gambling). And here I thought fantasy football was for nerds…

Luckily Betty Dr. Meyer saves even the most boring conversations about unpronounceable bones by suggesting that Wells goes back to the woods to look for missing bones… Being in nature will be good for Mr. Happy.

Naturally Brennan feels threatened by Dr. Meyer (or maybe irrationally? The woman is in her 90s!), who swoops in and is not only perceptive but also incredibly efficient in helping Angela -after all she inspired the Angelatron, – cataloging bones as well as performing her actual intern duties.

Meanwhile, Wells shoots Hodgins with a tranquilizer gun in the woods as they go looking for coy-wolf poo, which results in a very stoned Hodgins and an even weirder Oliver traipsing around the woods topless making wolf noises. Okay then.

They come back bearing gifts: a huge pile of defecation, complete with missing bones and the victim’s fitstep. [I’ll never get used to seeing these guys dive into the grossest things on this show.] Oliver seems to have solved his boner problem and returns to the Jeffersonian a different man: more confident and even creepier than usual.

Back to the case: the suspect is the victim’s fellow fantasy football player whose wife was cheating on him with, that’s right, the victim. Wait, there’s more: he was willing to forgive the victim if he traded a player with him. Okay then, freak.

Alas, it’s not crazy fantasy football guy: the murder weapon isn’t a nail gun after all, like they initially thought, but a two-pronged instrument. And Hodgins has found cured pork residue in the poo. Yep, it’s the creepy fantasy football commissioner, who works at a sandwich shop.

Case solved, and Hodgins exacts his revenge on Wells by taking him hiking and shooting him with a tranquilizer dart. It’s all in good fun! Back at the Jeffersonian, Brennan recognizes that she was jealous instead of eager to learn from Meyer and apologizes. Meyer is insightful and gives Brennan advice, but I’m afraid I find this entire Agent Andy subplot quite boring.

Verdict: Betty White made this episode. Please never write another fantasy-football episode again, Bones writers.