Episode Report Card Sobell: B | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Well, look what you've done now, Michael
By Sobell | Season 1 | Episode 7 | Aired on 10.02.2005
Meanwhile, Sara's getting quite the workout inside the examining room, what with the vigorous arm-pounding and yelling for help. Meanwhile, somewhere in a Heart video, Ann Wilson pops out of the slo-mo steam clouds to tell us that every second of the night, she lives another life. No, wait. It's Turk. I can tell because there's a lot less chiffon. And it looks like what I had formerly confused for a tough leather string bracelet is, in fact, a beefy rubber band. But that's okay, because Turk's a beefy guy. He thunders through the conveniently deserted industrial room. Linc stumbles behind him and slurs, "Scofield's in here?" Oh, Linc, I'm hopeful that's only the head wound talking. Anyway, Linc walks toward the danger. For a seasoned con, he has no savvy about the wisdom of wandering into secluded places all alone. After a few minutes of stumbling around and calling for Turk, the beefy -- okay, you know what? Turk is not merely beefy. He contains entire herds. The guy is massive; how he's not showing up on NASA scanners as an independently orbiting body with its own field of gravity is a mystery. Anyway, Turk leaps out of nowhere and clubs Lincoln right around the base of his neck. Linc promptly collapses, as would anyone clubbed by a side of beef. He manages to come up, only because he's being pulled up by Turk's homemade garrote. Will Linc live? We'll find out after the credits.
Commercials. So the message of the VW Passat is, it's not going to get you through border check in a timely manner? Also, the Puffs commercial is only slightly less creepy than the Nasonex one. Don't congested people suffer enough without these digital homunculi taunting them?
We get back from commercials, and what do you know? Lincoln and Turk are still tussling. Linc eventually manages to bash his way free. He stands up and careers sideways, wearing a thoroughly baffled expression. I don't blame him: how many of us really wake up expecting to be in a riot, and beaten silly by the Fabulously Gay White Supremacists, then throttled by a mobile side of beef? Please nobody answer that.
Meanwhile, the inmates continue rioting. At this point, mattresses are burning. That seems short-sighted: exactly what are you supposed to sleep on when you're done? In Michael's cell, Sucre and T-Bag are flea-farting around, and T-Bag decides his new hobby is taunting the CO. He's taken Bobby's shoes and belt. Sucre looks over and tells T-Bag, "You ain't gonna use that." T-Bag impotently cracks his little whip (the belt, you perverts) and asks, "You making the rules now, ese?" Sucre points out that it is his cell. T-Bag makes more noises about how much easier life would be if Bobby were out of the picture, and Bob's all, "I'm as silent as the grave. No, wait. Bad image! I can keep my mouth shut." As Sucre prepares to hop into the exit hatch, Bob pleads, "Don't leave." Sucre looks torn, and he gives T-Bag an appraising glance. Then he turns back to Bob and apologizes before disappearing. He promises, "I'll be back later." Bob looks like he doubts he himself will be around later. Ah, Bob is breaking my heart here.
T-Bag leans over and conspiratorially tells Sucre, "Don't worry, I'll cover for you." He puts up a sheet. Bob gives the sheet a look of dread and T-Bag leans over to say blithely, "Don't worry, CO, all right? I'm not gonna hurt nobody. I'm part of the team now." Bob looks like he's not about to take T-Bag at his word. T-Bag grabs Bob by the shoulder and pushes him to the floor, commanding him to reposition the sink now that Sucre's through the wall. As Bob works, T-Bag licks his lips and gloats, "Cat's away!" There's some more unpleasant licking and...T-Bag, the whole "cat's away!" thing is a metaphor. You don't really have the power to wash yourself with your own spit.