Episode Report Card Sobell: B | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Dr. Gudat -- dead!
By Sobell | Season 2 | Episode 2 | Aired on 08.27.2006
Back at the park, the picnicker is busy picking the fight he'll have for the rest of the afternoon by asking, "Honey, are you sure you packed everything?"
The team has made short work of the chicken and its accompanying beer. However, Abruzzi decides that now is a fine time to stir everyone up again, goading the edgy Sucre and C-Note with the sardonic toast, "Here's to amateur hour." Lincoln can't be bothered to get involved: Michael has taught him how to read, and he's just run across an article in the paper helpfully laying out the particulars of L.J.'s pending hearing.
Michael decides it's time to cut the festivities short, walking over and saying coolly, "Last supper, boys. This is the part where we say good-bye." He hands some money to both C-Note and Sucre, noting, "It's not much, but it's enough to get you started." Abruzzi is all, "No sugar for Johnny?' and Michael cuts him off with "I'm not telling you where Fibonacci is." Abruzzi says, "I wasn't going to ask. I...only ask for a quarter for a phone call." It is one of the weirdest line deliveries in a history of strange enunciations. Michael hands Abruzzi a buck and tells him to knock himself out.
Sucre then wonders what happened to the other guys. The FED, CLOTHED, MONEY-HOLDING C-Note rolls his eyes and balefully notes, "They all got a head start." C-Note not only sees the glass as half-empty, he's ready to complain that the drink is warm, it's not his favorite flavor, and the glass is too small. Anyway, the general consensus is that T-Bag probably bled to death. Oh, you silly escapees, assuming that T-Bag has the same limitations of human biology as the rest of us!
In fact, T-Bag is like a special mutant, able to withstand major limb re-attachment surgery without benefit of anesthesia. And to further highlight his biological freakishness, apparently the surgery -- which would have required painstakingly knitting nerves, tendons, blood vessels and skin back into working order -- was A) rapid enough so that Dr. Gudat's family didn't miss him or come by looking for him, and B) easy enough so that any fear-crazed vet could do it. (Not to diminish the skill levels of DVMs at all. In fact, one could argue that being a vet is crazy-hard, since your patient list is made up of a variety of species that have but one thing in common: they cannot tell you themselves what's wrong.) Anyway, T-Bag flexes his hand and grins in triumph, then celebrates by vomiting all over Dr. Gudat's nice, clean floor.