Deadwood TV Show - A Two-Headed Beast - Deadwood Recaps, Deadwood Reviews, Deadwood Episodes | TWoP

Recapped by Al Lowe · Aired 2006-07-09

Con Stapleton is in the Bella Union bathhouse...well, he's...sigh. You know, I'd rather see Al suffering with gleets the size of Volkswagen Beetles than open an episode of Deadwood with Con Stapleton mashing and manhandling the corpulent bosom of...some big, naked lady. I presume this is a Bella Union prostitute, though she looks almost exactly like Claudia who, we found out in the last episode, lowered her expectations of life enough to get it on with Con.

Cy comes in during some truly embarrassing boob strangling -- he's considering, he says, making Con his go-between in the upcoming Hearst dealings. "I'd need to know my man had discipline," he says, visibly nauseated, "and appetites in fuckin' harness and the like." Con regrets that he must decline. "Yesterday, I occasioned to fuck a woman after a considerable period of abstention," he explains, with shame. "And that seems now to have throwed me unawares, uh, into a fuckin' spasm of sex interest, which I fuckin' pray will be brief." Cy goes pale under the three inches of Cornsilk on his face. "Well," he says, grossed out, "I believe I'll defer enlisting you in this other aspect." Best Cy dialogue yet this season. Con agrees that this is a prudent decision and Cy beats a hasty, disgusted retreat while Con goes back to his...jug juggling. Aw, hell. I had to.

Speaking of go-betweens, Adams is doing his duty for Al right now over in Hearst's rooms. Titus Welliver (I LOVE YOU) was born to be in Westerns. He looks great in the beard, the clothes, the posture, the strong-silent thing...the guy just rules. Early on, I thought this character was a bit superfluous. I mean, why add to the perfect mixture that is W. Earl Brown and Sean Bridgers, Dan and Johnny, when the two of them are so fantastic? It's gilding the lily. But clearly, it was a good move. Adams possesses a patient sophistication the others do not and in this scene tries to use it to flim-flam Hearst, albeit to limited effect. Hearst notes that Cy and Al seem to have some ugly history between them and Adams shrugs, saying he wouldn't know. "That feels to me less than a full verity," Hearst says. Adams gives him a tired look. "I don't know what that means, Mr. Hearst," he says, flatly. Hearst explains that he doesn't believe that Adams isn't fully aware of Al's relationship with Cy. "Yeah," Adams admits, "I guess so" and asks if Hearst is looking for him to declare his loyalty to him, and dump Al, because, if so, that would be an even bigger lie. "So, I'll have to win you away," Hearst smarms. "I guess so," Adams answers. All this dancing is too much for Captain Turner, who finally has to interrupt with his own agenda. "Go tell your friend I know he's afraid of me," he says, leaning over Adams, who remains cool. "Dority?" he dryly confirms. "Big guy?" Captain Turner scoffs. "I guess he looks big to you," he says. Adams, bored, turns back to Hearst. "Is that what you brought me here for?" he asks. "You want me to take that back to Dority?" Hearst: "I guess so."

By Al Lowe

Behind the Grand Central, Aunt Lou beats out a rug while the NG thanks her for the cobbler she's made for Hostetler. The NG tells her that if their luck holds out this afternoon on the Drunk Steve Livery Deal, they'll be headed to Oregon. She shoos him off and again, as much as I like Aunt Lou thus far, I can't deal with this Mammy stuff. Give the lady something to do besides all this I-declarin'.

Speaking of Drunkass Steve, he is outside Nuttall's right now, "washing up." I guess he is, anyway, though he certainly appears no cleaner, no matter how much water he splashes on himself. He's washing, apparently, because Nuttall dumped a spittoon over his head when he fell asleep inside and knocked it over. Blargh -- can you imagine? Tom rants that he's had enough shit spilled in his joint for a lifetime and that Steve needs to just clean up his act, in general, "to put you on the fuckin' path, fuckin' respect yourself, and the fuckin' occasion, and bring no more fuckin' shame onto my place, goddammit!" Too little, too late, Tom! Steve doesn't get it, of course -- clearly some of that spittoon bilge got in his ears -- and he takes a shot of whiskey, looking forward to the moment his luck will change when he becomes owner of the livery.

At the bank, Merrick interviews Mrs. Ellsworth at her desk as she...does a little bonsai? No, seriously, she's dreamily pruning a small potted plant as she answers his questions about the camp's progress in financial matters. Dude, she is so stoned. Even Merrick notices as she blowsily goes on and on about the benefits of a local bank (referencing the recent events of late in the East") and sounding like she's at a Pink Floyd laser show. Trixie looks on from the teller window, nervous.

At the Gem, Al meets with the boys. Dan is less than thrilled to hear Adams's recounting of his sitdown with Hearst and Turner. "Well, I guess that argues for me showing Captain C*ntface how goddamn afraid I am," he says, pissed. Al rolls his eyes, waiting to hear the rest of the story. Adams explains how Hearst was in the room when Turner made his threats, and how when he asked Hearst if he wanted the taunts brought back to Dan, he had responded, "I guess so." Al says that such a response did not sound like Hearst. "I had said 'I guess so' before," Adams clarifies. "I think he was makin' small of me." Reason enough to stab him in my book, Al! Go to it! Surely there's some provision in the rulebook about cocksucker's making small of Adams. But no, Al is cautious, which irritates the already highly frustrated Dan. "What is there to consider over, Al?" he snaps. "That sea creature Turner called me out." Al is quiet. "It's Hearst calling you out," he says. "I'm trying to decipher his reason." Dan snarks in a dangerous voice that his killing Turner will not delay Al's deciphering. "Can you shut up now, Dan," Al asks, exhausted by this, "that you fuckin' couldn't before?" Dan is losing it. "He hurt you...then he calls to you like a dog," he says through gritted teeth. "I had to tell him to fuck himself." Al reminds him that he had told him to stay out of trouble with Hearst until he could see to all his arrangements with the man. "Think they'll get seen to by the snows?" Dan smarts back and -- awwww snap! Al makes Angry Dad face while Johnny and Adams shift uncomfortably in their seats, just waiting for his eyebrows to explode.

By Al Lowe

In the thoroughfare, Bullock looks at his watch. Butthole Steve is over at Nuttall's while Hostetler is in the hardware store. On opposite sides of the street, the NG and Harry look to Bullock for a signal. Finally, the sheriff raises his gun to the sky and fires a shot. Both men bend over their own copies of the livery sale agreement, and sign their names. Sol witnesses Hostetler's signature as Nuttall reluctantly looks over Steve's.

Merrick and Blazanov perambulate down the boardwalk. The newspaperman reads his friend his latest piece on Mrs. Ellsworth's bank, but pulls up short when the two of them walk up on a corpse that has been laid out practically in the street. The man, looking like another of Hearst's Cornish workers, has a knife through his heart. Merrick covers the body with his coat and they decide to go find Bullock.

Cy is probably still getting over his Con/boobs encounter when he sees Leon come in the front door of the Bella Union. He calls him over and, seeing how twitchy and clearly doped up he is, grills him on his recent activities. "I was buying drugs, yes, sir," Leon admits. "That is the fuckin' cross my weakness has to bear." Man, Milch knows addicts, for real. He always has them making these wordy, dramatic excuses like we're watching an episode of COPS, and I love it. If Leon was in handcuffs outside his grandmother's trailer park where he just sold her last bottle of Lorazepam, his behavior could not be any more accurate or any more pitiful. Cy wants to know if he's bearing his cross alone, or if he has contributed to Lila's downfall by selling her dope, too. Leon protests wildly. "Takin' a whore o' yours down," he says, wide-eyed, "that's to directly robbing you." Cy doesn't quite believe him. "Fella like me that's been indisposed," he says, "to show he's back in play might cut a thief's throat." Leon freaks out and finally reveals that it isn't Lila he's selling to, it's Alma. Cy is awed by this news, and no doubt feels his former power resurging -- this will be quite the feather in his cap, Hearst-wise.

By Al Lowe

Bullock and Charlie have come back to look at the dead guy with Merrick and Blazy. Charlie recognizes the man from his earlier interviews with the mine workers. "Cornishman. Talked union," he says. "Worked for Hearst." Bullock clenches while Merrick, ever clueless, asks: "Do you feel there's a significance to that?" Merrick wasn't exactly the Old West's Bob Woodward, if you know what I mean.

Bullock, pissed, strides into the Gem where Al is still at the table with the guys. "The third of those organizers's been killed," he says, causing Al to swing around on Dan and preemptively tell him to shut up. Al asks if Bullock thinks Hearst ordered this murder and Bullock says he does, and that he withdraws from their earlier agreement that he'd lay off putting Hearst "on notice" until Al could sort out all Hearst-related hoo-ha. "I'd ask its very brief extension," Al says, trying to hold himself together, but Bullock ain't having it. He is practically in need of a tetanus shot as he clenches out that delaying Hearst's smackdown any further would make both of them look like cowards. Al's had just about enough backchat for one morning. "I ain't no fucking coward," he says, rising from his chair, "though Dan might support your position." He walks off, leaving Dan to writhe uncomfortably and Bullock to wonder what the hell's up. "What's he talking about?" he finally asks. Dan just looks at him, so Adams steps in. "Wait a bit, Bullock," he counsels wisely. "Don't go for Hearst yet. You know Al." Even Bullock, even in highest clench, is moved by the dulcet and reasonable tones of Adams's advice. "I've got the briefest of other bidness," he says, after a pause. Adams suggests that he see to it first and Dan, who's got the nervous shakes by the point after his Al confrontation, agrees. "Yeah," he says, "s-s-see to it, Bullock." The sheriff is frustrated, but he goes off, presumably to see to it.

By Al Lowe

Upstairs, Al has slammed the door to his office and taken out the whiskey. What a damn way to start the damn day, he must be thinking. Even his most faithful lackey is giving him attitude by the handful while he tries to work out these complicated Hearst strategies? Who better to turn to, therefore, than his old friend Chief HitB, still residing in his office cabinet? "Watching us advance on your stupid teepee, Chief, knowing you had to make your move," Al asks, "did you not just want first to...fucking understand?" Poor Al. How I do feel for him sometimes.

Steve is at the bank officially signing the deal to become owner of the livery, paid for by loan from the bank. Alma is downright officious when proclaiming the terms of this deal and, I guess, in her inebriated state, does not feel the catgut tension in this room full of angry, clenching men. As she hands over Hostetler's gold for the sale, she makes a soft giggle, saying, "I don't suppose a handshake signaling the transaction's completion is absolutely required." Awk...ward. Everyone freezes until Steve stands up. "Then I guess we don't have to do it then," he says, brisk. Awkward, a...gain. Mrs. E looks offended that he's ruined her perfect businesswoman fantasy. "And if you're hoping to pass as a man before you hightail it to Oregon," Steve continues, turning angrily to Hostetler, "you will return to me that board you made me sign." Ugh. I'm about to call bullshit on this storyline, and I will explain why in a minute.

Davey leads E.B. into the Gem where Adams, Johnny and Dan are still sitting at their table, having not moved at all since Al went upstairs. E.B. makes a sarcastic comment about how busy they must be, and they all shoot him a collective death glare. "Such acid scrutiny by former boon companions," he remarks, to which Dan says that they were never his fuckin' boon companions. "Forgive me my confusing, Dan, my own deep feelings for you with what yours may have been for me," E.B. replies, his offense seemingly genuine. "I did not offer my hotel to Hearst, which sale has made me outcast among you. Hearst forced the transaction upon me." He heads up the stairs to Al's office, pausing to take one last guilt shot over his shoulder: "I miss our morning coffee." Heeee. Good one, E.B. That ought to have 'em reminiscing like a damn General Foods International Coffees commercial. Adams: "Do you remember that time in fuckin' Paris?" E.B.: "That waiter?" Dan: "Jean fuckin' Luc!" Johnny (singing): "Celebrate the moments of your liiiiiiife!"

By Al Lowe

You know, though -- I miss their morning coffee, too. Where the hell is Jewel, anyway?

Upstairs, E.B. does what he can to be of service to Al. "Hearst organizes violence between his man and Dority," Al tells him, bringing him up to speed on all these activities he's been left out of. "Orchestrates combat between them, mutilates me, plants that organizer's body like a flag in the fuckin' thoroughfare." E.B. says that last part is fresh news. Oh, but there's more. "Makes of me and Tolliver," Al goes on, "a two-headed beast to savage what might be healthy-born out of the fuckin' election and gnaw its own privates off-hours." E.B. looks as confused as the rest of it, so Al gives him the gist. Hearst, he says, keeps coming up with ways to, while protecting his own income, smash up everything he can. Those he can't outright destroy, he sets against each other so that they can do it for him. "The why is what fuckin' confounds me," Al says, and it must scare E.B. to hear that Al is at a loss. "What's in his head, I cannot fuckin' find in mine!" Hoping to get something, anything, he asks E.B. if he ever talks to the Captain. "Hails and farewells," E.B. says, "but he never replies." Al asks about Aunt Lou. "The negress and I are not intimate," E.B. says, haughtily. Al's dejected. What is the camp coming to if he can't even count on E.B. for information? Is Hearst made of damn Teflon? Has he no weak spots? E.B. feels bad he can't help, and asks if he can know Al's plans. "No," Al says, calmly, most likely because he has none. E.B. leaves, faking to the boys downstairs that he's been of a big help to Al in his time of need.

Langrishe greets his remaining troupe members as they arrive by stage. Bellegard, a dandy little queen, says the trip has been nothing short of a crucifixion. "Too painful," Langrishe waves him off, "even the merest details." Inside the coach, Chesterton, a stately old gentleman who is obviously quite ill, lies back on some pillows. "My last camp, Jack," he says, chuckling through his pain. "As it may be for us all, young man," Langrishe replies. "The place is yearning for elevation and festering with wealth." Chesterton theatrically rallies at the mention of cash. "Oh, dear," he says. "We must help them however we can." I'm irritated that we are getting all this troupe stuff right now and not as much Jane/Charlie/Doc/Joanie, but I must say, one certainly can't complain about Brian Cox and Aubrey Morris.

By Al Lowe

Upstairs at the Gem, it's come to this: Al stomps out his office door and places his hands on the rail. "It's past me," he yells down to Dan. "I cannot figure the fuckin' angle. Go ahead and fuckin' fight him." Dan nods and knocks his fists on the table. "Well," he says, smugly satisfied, "all right then." With that, Al goes back into his office and slams the door.

Moments later, Dan greases up for the fight. Literally. With grease. All over his body. It's really gross, but you can imagine how such measures might serve one well when locked in mortal thoroughfare combat. Anything to dissuade the grip of one man on another's privates, for instance, would be handy. ["It's still a staple of chick fights." -- Sars] Johnny is worried. He asks what weapons Dan will have on him. "Nothing I would want found secreted on me, worse comes to worst," Dan says, prideful. Johnny: "Well, don't say you ain't bringing your blade." Dan says fine, he'll take his knife, but it will be visible to the Captain and he will get rid of it if the Captain gets rid of his. Johnny is finding none of this reassuring. "If it's getting to go wrong, Dan," he says with sort of an anxious tone, "you just drop down flat." Dan asks what the fuck he means. "Drop flat if it's going wrong," Johnny says, "and I'll blow his fuckin' head off." Dan sees red. "You do," he says, "and it'll be the last goddamn thing you do on this fuckin' earth. Going wrong is not the end of fuckin' things, Johnny. Fuck no! I have come back from plenty of shit that looked like it was going wrong." Now, I don't know how many rednecks y'all know, or how many country people, but I know a lot. A LOT. And this philosophy could not be more accurately portrayed, and if there was ever a phrase I needed embroidered on a sofa pillow, it's that one about Going Wrong. "All right, Dan," Johnny says, wishing he hadn't said anything. Dan adds some (extra) grease to his hair, and Johnny notes that here the Captain, with his own short hair, has the advantage on him. For a second, I am afraid Dan will cut his hair off, an idea I find to tragic to contemplate, but he doesn't.

By Al Lowe

In Hearst's rooms, the Captain is doing his sea creature warm-ups. Hearst looks over a note, apparently from Dan. "Well," he says, "it's not lacking for brass: 'Come scare me in the thoroughfare.'" Good one, Dan. These two assholes reminisce fondly on some other people with whom the Captain has had his little fights to the death. "Star City, Captain. You remember the man's name?" Hearst asks. The Captain, mid-squat, says he thinks the guy was called Leonard. "That was a fight," Hearst says. Captain Turner: "Not how I remember." Hearst rolls his eyes -- he means, at least, that the fight was an important lesson for anyone watching. I assume this "lesson" of which he speaks is that he is a big badass with the toughest tough guy on his side. Turner says yeah, he gets it, and I say that we'll just see about that.

Dan and Johnny emerge from the greasing room. Adams stands to meet them. They share the manly nod of strong, silent types everywhere. Adams isn't going to waste any time trying to reason with Dan, or advise him, or anything. They walk outside, where Dan and Turner lock eyes across the thoroughfare. He takes off his weapons belt. The Captain does the same. A single wagon crosses between them...and, ding! IT! IS! ON! They lock arms and quickly hit the dirt, where the Captain gains the advantage. Johnny and Adams watch from the Gem doorway, trying not to look worried. It isn't working. Punches are thrown and much rolling and grunting continues as the two big men fight it out. Hearst steps out on his roof and watches, full of confidence in his man. One can see why -- the Captain is giving Dan the business pretty thoroughly as they careen around the street, knocking over stands and crashing into posts. But for those unfortunate bidness owners whose bidnesses are being knocked over, the rest of the people in the thoroughfare act fairly blasÃ© about the whole thing. Al, too, looks nonchalant on his balcony, though one can easily see the internal pain. Man, what a fight. At this point, I start watching it through the blanket. Dan gets a few good ones in to Turner's kidneys and it looks like things are about to go his way when the Captain head-butts him, full-on Zidane-style, and BITES HIS FACE. Dan is thrown by this and tries to crawl away to regain himself, but the Captain takes the advantage, grabbing Dan up in a half-Nelson and turning him sputtering and choking to face Al up on his balcony. Al does not show even a flicker of an eyebrow, yet somehow his inner turmoil is transmitted through the screen.

By Al Lowe

Things continue to go wrong. So, so very wrong -- the Captain drags Dan to a particularly nasty mud puddle and shoves his face in, holding it down to drown him. Dan's on the ropes, people. Things are about as bad as they can get. Johnny and Adams are near vomiting. Al hangs his head in silence. And the Captain...well, here is where he makes his fatal error. Oh, yes. He looks up to Hearst on his roof for the "finish him" signal, but even as he receives it, Dan rallies. Somehow, he flings himself out of the mud hole, gagging and coughing and when Turner crawls after him, Dan makes his big move, by which I mean HE GOUGES OUT TURNER'S EYE. No, wait, let me try to make it more clear. The Captain has two eyes, right? And they reside inside his skull, you know, where eyes BELONG. But, Dan, see...he PULLS ONE OUT. And it is HANGING THERE...on the OUTSIDE of Turner's face, for all the world to see! Oh my Gaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhd the screaming that goes on! The Captain screams. I scream. My husband screams. Even our dog covers his eyes. Dan, barely on his feet and covered in blood, stands to face Al. At this point, his options are limited -- leave the one-eyed Captain to scream in the street, or finish him off. Al continues his stony stare, in which Dan must find the answer he's looking for -- he picks up a big log and beats Captain Turner to death.

Holy shit, W. Earl Brown. Long may you reign.

What follows is some thankless material involving the amusing theater troupe. Too bad they had to come right after that fight, thus making it completely immaterial. They are cute and everything -- the awesome Dennis Christopher, who plays Bellegarde, looks so much like Roddy McDowall that it freaks me right out -- and I think the actors are great, but...well, come on. Dan just ripped out someone's EYEBALL.

Adams and Johnny are having some recovery shots that night when Doc comes in to ask if Dan is receiving yet. "Broken bones mortally interfering with organs is what I would like to rule out," Doc says, and Johnny goes to the back to check on Dan and finds him, sitting naked (!) on a stool, trembling. He tells Johnny that he doesn't need the Doc. "Come on, Dan," Johnny protests. "Let him look at you. He come back special." Dan's pissed, though, and...can it be?...kind of crying. "You heard what the fuck I said," he snaps. "He wants to poke around in some innards, tell him to work on the one I killed." Johnny is at a loss. He offers him whiskey, but Dan shakes his head no. "One of the girls?" he tries . "There's a clamoring line to see to you." Dan isn't interested in any of this and just wants to be alone. "Get the fuck out of here, Johnny," he repeats, and Johnny goes out, where he shakes his head "no" at the Doc. "Listen for raspy fuckin' shallow breathing in the course of the fucking night," Doc advises. "Him going blue too, would hint to you to fucking come get me." Yeah, no joke. Johnny says he definitely will, and Doc leaves him and Adams to continue their vigil. Upstairs, Al lurks over them, watching.

By Al Lowe

In her bedroom, Alma mixes up her laudanum and swigs it down. Poor ol' Mrs. E. Steeling herself, she stands, pulls back the covers on the bed, shifts the vanity so that the mirror is a little less porn-y in its reflection, and goes into the hall. "Have you ample towels?" she asks through the bathroom door where Ellsworth is scrubbing up. When he hears her voice, he jumps, nervous that she might come in. Hey, man, that is what she's TRYING to do. Time for some wife-on-husband ACTION up in here. But, well...Ellsworth is skittish. When she asks if she can come in and scrub his back, which made me giggle like a schoolgirl, he leaps from the water as if it has scalded him, and covers himself with a towel. Heee! I'm so delighted by his nervousness, I forget that his wife has had to get high to even convince herself to do this.

Things are not too much better over at Sol's house. He knocks on the wall to invite Trixie over, but she's too moody, worrying about Alma's drug habit. She's also mad (though AGAIN she won't come out and say it) that no one else has noticed Mrs. E's problem. "The bank's founder and president, Chief Officer, as well, of air-headed smugness and headlong plunges unawares into the fucking abyss," she says, furnishing Alma with a new title. Sol admits that he doesn't understand what she's talking about. "You wouldn't," Trixie sighs. "You're too fucking healthy-minded. You'll sit here waiting for me to materialize from a piece of fucking furniture and think the world is normal." She sighs again. "Do you want to get fucked or not?" Sol: "Please."

By Al Lowe

Al is in his office ruminating over the day's events when Johnny knocks. "I wish you'd look in on Dan, boss," he says. "Not for being poorly as...down." Al sighs. "Johnny," he says, "some shit's best walked through alone." Johnny, versed as he is in the meditations of John Donne, doesn't understand this. Oh, come on, y'all. Get it? No man is an island? These are the jokes. It's just that Dan's killed people before, Johnny says, and usually he's not all solitary afterwards like he is now. Al explains: "A fair fight, something Dan and I have always struggled to avoid, is different. You see the light go out of their eyes. It's just you left, and death." It's a beautiful line and I hate to break the mood but...hell, he sure DID see the light go out of Turner's eyes. He saw his EYES come right out into the LIGHT, for God's sake. Yeesh. Anyway, Johnny still ain't getting it, but he tries. "So that's why Dan wants to be alone?" he asks. In his way, Al seeks to comfort his dumbest child. "He knows where to find me," he says. "Sit down...if you want to." He does sit down, though when Al stays quiet, he finally has to ask what they're waiting for. "To see," Al explains, "what kind of hell breaks loose."

Hearst enters the Bella Union and orders a whiskey from Jack behind the bar. "I just saw to the remains of a friend," he says, all maudlin, and I guess I'd feel sorry for him, except he's a dick, so I don't. He and Jack introduce themselves to each other. Maybe he's sizing Jack up as Captain replacement? Jack, don't take that job unless he agrees to start you as Major, at least.

Bullock, in his most intense clench of the season, charges into the Grand Central. E.B. sees him from behind the desk and immediately gets the jitters. "Is he up there?" Bullock asks. E.B. loudly says he cannot say, that he cannot betray the whereabouts of an owner/guest, making sure anyone who hears him will not know that he is secretly writing Hearst's very whereabouts down on a slip of paper for Bullock to see. His relief is palpable when Bullock snatches up the paper and leaves without once again beating him down.

By Al Lowe

Back at the Bella Union, Cy sidles up to Hearst, apologizing for not being present when arrived. "Hell of a fuckin' day," Cy says. "I heard there was a set-to in the thoroughfare." Hearst takes a shot. "My man was killed," Hearst says sadly, already boozed. "It happens. It's the nature of things." Cy nods, saying that doesn't lessen the sadness of losing a friend. Oh, Cy -- as if you have any!

Bullock walks up and tersely orders a whiskey. "The sheriff recently put me on notice he is vigilant of my possible transgressions," Hearst snarks to Cy. Bullock doesn't even look at him. "You sound drunk to me," he says, and he is quite right. "When I say 'fuck yourself, sheriff,' will you put that down to drunkenness," Hearst asks, "or a high estimate of your athleticism?" Nice, but...Bullock has had a long day himself, and he's come here looking for any excuse to clench down Hearst. "Did you just tell me to fuck myself?" he asks, cocking his head to the side. "I think I did," Hearst smarts back, "and to shut up or I'll quiet you myself." Ah ha, big man, NOW you're gonna get it. Bullock tells him he's under arrest. "Fuck you, and shut up," Hearst continues, "or I will shut you up for good." Well, that tears it! Grunting and wanting to shoot him SO BAD, Bullock whips up his gun and holds it in Hearst's face. "Threatening a peace officer," he clenches out, "I'm taking you into custody." Cy is freaked. "Don't be stupid, Bullock," he counsels, but it's too late. "Don't you be fucking stupid," Bullock retorts, and he grabs Hearst by the ear and drags him out at gunpoint, whispering a final, AWESOME "fuck...you" as they enter the street.

From his balcony, Al sees Bullock pushing Hearst through the thoroughfare and calls to Johnny. "The sheriff eliminates several of our options," he says, recalculating the angles on the potential upcoming hell-breaking. Below, Merrick also sees all, but Al counsels restraint. "Not a fucking word comes to print," he says, and Merrick responds that this is understood.

They all turn back to watch as Bullock, seething with rage, shoves Hearst toward the jail.