Episode Report Card Sobell: A | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Missing The Corner Pocket Shot
By Sobell | Season 1 | Episode 2 | Aired on 08.28.2005
Back on the inside, Michael's working off some that adrenaline by working on his bolt. Down on the first level, T-Bag's assuaging his grief by turning his attention back to Michael. For a moment, that gives Michael pause, and then he resumes working on his bolt. We see that he's turned it into an Allen wrench. Flash back to Michael looking over the blueprints and finding the toilet fixtures, as made by Schweitzer plumbing company. Conveniently, these toilets happen to be held in place with 1/4" Allen bolts. Michael then pulls up his sleeve so that we can see that he's tattooed the bolt head on his arm (yes, really), and then he tests the makeshift wrench against it to make sure it'll all fit. Within moments, he's checking it against the actual bolt. Success!
We zoom down the tiny hole he's created, through a duct, and into the infirmary. Dr. Tancredi's waiting for Michael. He's currently accepting C-Note's apology ("I was wrong about you") and a handful of PUGNAc. Oh, will it work in time? And will C-Note be able to make good on his promise: "I'm gonna find out, you know, what it is you're doing in there"?
Cut to a shot of a grate, which would seem to imply that its charms, and not Dr. Tancredi's, are what keeps Michael coming back. He's totally nervous as she tests him. She waits for the strip to come out and exposits, "I'm sure you know this, but for the nondiabetics in the audience -- who are the only ones listening to me, since anyone who manages diabetes has long since given up on this storyline's having any plausibility -- anyway, average glucose for the non-diabetic is about 100 milligrams per deciliter, so we see a number like that here, and we know you've been misdiagnosed." Michael doesn't say anything. Dr. Tancredi says, "You seem nervous." "I do?" he asks. She doesn't reply. "Must be the needles. I never got used to them," he replies. "Between the tattoos and the diabetes, I find that hard to believe," Dr. Tancredi dryly rebuts. The test results are in, and she reads them: "Bad news, I'm afraid. Eighteen milligrams per deciliter. You're definitely diabetic." It is only with great effort that Michael refrains from punching the air in victory. He practically dances out of the infirmary. As he goes, a nurse comments, "Cute," and Dr. Tancredi chokes down the "I know" before saying, "Something strange about him. I gave him the results of his blood test and there was this look on his face. It was like relief."
As the guard walks Michael down the stairs, Bellick grabs Michael by the elbow and tells the other CO he's heading over there anyway. Where he's actually heading is over to someplace unsupervised, where he can deliver Michael to Abruzzi's thugs. Ah, shit. And today was going so much better than the day before, too!