Episode Report Card Chuck: B- | 3 USERS: A+ YOU GRADE IT Song, Song...Ewww
By Chuck | Season 5 | Episode 6 | Aired on 02.09.2002
Mukada's number, in a pod with purple backlighting and a glitter-on-black "Variety" sign. He's got the Janet Jackson headset on, and is singing a Tori Amos song I recognize. I'm scared that hers is the only piece I've recognized so far, and I'm scared for Mukada, who's now singing about sex and screaming, and pantomiming screaming while holding a Bible, and now licking the Bible, in a move straight out of Madonna's "Express Yourself" video, except she used a milk dish, and pulling his hair like he's too sexy for his pod, and singing about love and leather. The purple lighting makes him look very Pierre et Gilles. Oh yes, I'm scared.
The warm leatherette drops in on Hoyt, who's glad to see a human being. Mukada brings up Hoyt's sudden string of confessions, and mentions that he's been very silent about his accomplices. Hoyt tells Mukada that he's not gonna snitch on his buds. Friends, schmiends, says Mukada. I'm talking Kirk. Hoyt thinks he polished the little blowjob factory off, but Mukada sets him straight. "As hard as you tried," says Mukada, "he survived." Stating the obvious, Hoyt grunts, "Cocksucker." Mukada suggests tattling on Kirk, which will increase the population of death row, and Hoyt sends for Leo. In front of Leo and Mukada, Kirk maintains that Hoyt's lying, that it's his word against Kirk's, and that he's innocent. Mukada, bone tired of Timmy Kirk's evil ways, lunges toward him; when Leo restrains him, he and Kirk exchange "you'll burn" priestly oneupmanships.
After being shooed out of a liplock with some floozy in the visiting area, Kirk approaches Big Clarence and begins flirting. After ascertaining that Clarence is an arsonist, and that he maintains an active arson network, Kirk offers Clarence a blowjob. Judging from the smile that spreads across Clarence's ample face, I'd guess that Kirk's finally found someone who will let him suck his dick. And maybe even give him something in return. Pretty damn quickly, as Our Lady Of Fatima goes up in flames, with the man on the TV saying that two priests were killed and that a Father Ray Mukada suffered smoke inhalation and is in critical condition at, oh my gracious, Benchley Memorial. Guess B.D. Wong got another gig. I'm impressed. Timmy Kirk, an unswerving literalist who sits in his pod scribbling rad red-and-black drawings of Satan that he's totally gonna laminate and put on his skateboard, got quite a big return for one blowjob. He does have kind of a purdy mouth.
A WOZ fifties-style microphone. Someone's crept into Beecher's heart, and it burns. Someone's snuck into Schillinger's head, and it aches. Okay, we're at the undisputed best moment of the week, as Beecher and Schillinger trade verses in a romantical duet about facing the music. I'm confident that this will not be topped tonight -- or maybe ever. That's funny. But then it gets better, as the disco beat starts thumping, the lights start flashing, and the two exes start a truly inspired synchronized dirty dance, complete with simulated backdoor entry. Beecher rips off his shirt; Schillinger does the John Travolta finger point, and then dips Beecher. Oh, mirth.