STEPHANIE AND MICHELLE ARE LYING ON THE LIVING ROOM FLOOR AFTER TRICK-OR-TREATING ON HALLOWEEN NIGHT. THEY ARE STILL IN THEIR COSTUMES, ADMIRING THEIR TREMENDOUS HOARD OF CANDY PILED HIGH ALL AROUND THEM.

DJ ENTERS FROM THE KITCHEN

DJ: You guys better not fill up on candy. Uncle Jesse is making his world famous Mexican stew for dinner.

STEPHANIE [WITH HER MOUTH FULL OF CANDY]: I'll save room.

[LAUGHTER]

THE CAMERA PANS TO MICHELLE. SHE IS PASSED OUT IN A POOL OF HER OWN VOMIT AND FECES.

DJ: Good grief... Help me roll Michelle on her side.

DJ AND STEPHANIE STRUGGLE TO TURN MICHELLE OVER, AND, WHILE BENDING DOWN, DJ NOTICES A LETTER TUCKED UNDER THE COFFEE TABLE.

DJ: What's this?

STEPHANIE: Is that where you hide your love letters from Steve?

[LUKE WARM LAUGHTER]

DJ: Steve and I broke up because I couldn't handle his girth, which you should know after reading my diary, you little snoop.

DJ UNFOLDS THE LETTER AND SKIMS ITS CONTENTS. HER EXPRESSION TURNS GRAVE.

DJ: Oh god.

STEPHANIE: Let me guess... Uncle Jesse's world famous Mexican stew recipe calls for six cups of Bette Middler's quim?

[AUDIENCE GROANS IN DISGUST]

DJ: No, you little dorkus... It's some kind of confession. Here, I'll read it to you: "I, Danny Tanner, do hereby confess to killing my wife Pamela Tanner (née Katsopolis), mother of Donna Jo, Stephanie and Michelle Tanner, beloved daughter of Nick and Irene Katsopolis, and older sister of Jesse Katsopolis."

STEPHANIE: Well pin a rose on your nose.

[SCATTERED, WEARY LAUGHTER]

DJ: Do you even know what this means?

[CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON DJ'S LARGE ROUND FACE AS SUSPENSFUL MUSIC STRIKES UP]

DJ: Dad killed mom!

[AUDIENCE GASPS]

STEPHANIE: You really need to get laid.

[CUT TO COMMERCIALS FOR FRUITY PEBBLES AND LEVI'S SUPER LOW JEANS]

ESTABLISHING SHOT OF SAN FRANCISCO FADES TO EXTERIOR SHOT OF TANNER RESIDENCE

DANNY IS IN THE ATTIC FLIPPING THROUGH OLD PHOTO ALBUMS WHILE CASUALLY MASTURBATING. DJ AND STEPHANIE BARGE IN ON HIM AND HE SCRAMBLES TO CONCEAL HIS SMALL, MISSHAPEN ERECTION.

DANNY: Don't you girls ever knock?!

[LAUGHTER]

DJ: What are you doing up here, dad?

STEPHANIE: It smells like farts.

DANNY GREEDILY SNIFFS THE AIR AND FEASTS ON A BANQUET OF HIS OWN SCENT, LEAVING NONE FOR THE GIRLS TO SAVOR. ONCE HIS HUNGER IS SATED, HE CLOSES THE PHOTO ALBUM AND FLINGS IT ON A STACK OF BOXES

DANNY: I was just taking a stroll down memory lane. You know tomorrow would have been our 15th anniversary.

DJ PICKS UP THE ALBUM AND LEAFS THROUGH IT DISINTERESTEDLY. DANNY'S CONFESSION LETTER IS CONSPICUOUSLY PROTRUDING FROM HER BREAST POCKET.

DANNY: What's that you have there, honey?

DJ: Hmm?

STEPHANIE BUSIES HERSELF ACROSS THE ROOM, SENSING AN ENSUING STORM SHE'D PREFER TO AVOID

DANNY: What is that?

DJ: What is what?

DANNY: That letter. Who's it from?

DJ: Which letter do you mean, papa?

DANNY [FRUSTRATED]: I mean the one in your pocket!

DJ: Oh! You mean the letter in my pocket here? Is that correct?

DANNY: Yes, goddammit! What is that letter in your breast pocket?! I demand to know!

DJ SLOWLY REMOVES THE LETTER, UNFOLDS IT AND BEGINS TO READ. DANNY'S FACE IS STRICKEN WITH TERROR AS SHE FINISHES AND RETURNS THE CONFESSION SAFELY TO HER POCKET, PATTING IT WITH SMUG SATISFACTION.

DJ: Does any of that sound familiar, dear father of mine?

DANNY SWALLOWS HARD AND RUNS A TREMBLING HAND ACROSS HIS FACE. FOR A MOMENT HE CONSIDERS GRABBING DJ AND LEAPING FROM THE ATTIC WINDOW, BUT THE LETTER MIGHT STILL BE RECOVERED, AND STEPHANIE IS A WITNESS BESIDES

DANNY: That must be some kind of sick joke.

DJ: In your hand writing?

DANNY: You know I would never hurt your mother. I would never poison her coffee with gradually larger doses of antifreeze until a cancer formed in her blood, metastasizing and developing inoperable tumors on her pancreas. I would never, ever collect a tidy settlement from the insurance company which might enable me to purchase a large home in San Francisco.

STEPHANIE RACES OVER, UNABLE TO HOLD HERSELF BACK ANY LONGER

STEPHANIE: Who said anything about antifreeze, asshole?!

DANNY: Well... I- I- I- ...Um... Well... You see...

DJ: Save your breath, asshole. Here's the deal... I've been a member of the itty-bitty titty committee for too long. If you want to make this whole mess disappear, you BEST be payin' for my big, juicy jug implants.

STEPHANIE: And I want a dirt bike, asshole.

[AUDIENCE RESOLVES TO IGNORE STEPHANIE FOR REMAINDER OF EPISODE]

TWO WEEKS LATER

IN THE LIVING ROOM

STEPHANIE IS DOING DOUGHNUTS ON HER DIRT BIKE, FILLING THE ROOM WITH NOXIOUS SMOKE WHILE DJ STRUTS AND BOUNCES HER LUSCIOUS DOUBLE G'S IN A CANDY APPLE RED STRING BIKINI. MICHELLE IS STILL LYING ON HER SIDE. BITS OF HER SKULL ARE VISIBLE THROUGH HER DECOMPOSING SCALP WHICH COMET PROCEEDS TO SAMPLE, AND, FINDING IT TO HIS LIKING, HUNKERS DOWN BESIDE HER CORPSE FOR A LENGTHY FEEDING.

UNCLE JESSE LEANS IN FROM THE KITCHEN. HE IS WEARING A LARGE WHITE CHEF'S HAT AND HOLDING A STEAMING POT

JESSE: Soup's on, girls! It's time once again to celebrate my Mexican heritage. You know, DJ, there's something different about you... I just can't put my finger on it.

DJ: If you did, you'd be arrested.

[LAUGHTER]

EVERYONE ENTERS THE KITCHEN WHICH IS DECORATED WITH PINATAS AND SOMBREROS AND OTHER SYMBOLS OF MEXICAN CULTURE. STEPHANIE USES THE SPINNING TIRE OF HER DIRT BIKE TO GRATE PARMESAN CHEESE. IT FLIES EVERYWHERE BUT SOME LANDS IN HER BOWL, THEREFORE SHE IS SATISFIED

STEPHANIE: Yummy! This soup is extra good today, Uncle Jesse!

UNCLE JESSE LADLES MORE SOUP INTO EVERYONE'S BOWL. SECONDS THEN THIRDS.

JESSE: Eat up! There's plenty to go around.

DJ: Yeah, way to go, Uncle Jesse! Your cooking would really make my dead mom (and your older sister) proud. But where's dad? He's missing the festivities.

JESSE: That's funny... he was helping me with the soup just a few minutes ago. Oh well, I'm sure he's around here somewhere.

DANNY IS SEEN IN THE BACKGROUND SMILING WRYLY AND TURNING THE CAP ON A BOTTLE OF ANTIFREEZE.

THE END