Before we get going, I'm going to get a little sentimental here. If all you're interested in is sex and violence, it's not like I don't get you, but you might want to skip to the paragraph. In the first place, TWoP lives! Woo! I should have said something in my last recap, but I was too busy melting into a large pile of goo. But really, it means as much to the staff as it does to the users. I've had so much fun recapping, and especially recapping Oz, and I would have been really bummed to see that experience cut short. In a similar vein, I'd like to note that this is my fiftieth recap for TWoP. As I mentioned in the forums, I won't be able to do another one for several weeks, so the timing seems excellent. Also, since I'm currently living in England and therefore can't cover any first-run U.S. shows, it's pretty unlikely that I'll make it to a hundred recaps, so let's celebrate now. Drinks for everyone! Of course, I'm sitting alone writing this. Well, more for me, then. If you come to TARcon, I'll get you there. But seriously, big props to everyone in the Oz forums. You guys are the best. I can't remember the last time I had to do any moderating in that section, unlike another which shall remain Buffy. (Kidding! Don't email me!) And, as always, big snaps to Sars. In memory of the recent blackout, flush your toilets in salute!
Oh, and one other thing: I'm glad this is a milestone recap for me, because this is the best episode of this show I've seen since "Capital P." And now that you're channelling Homer Simpson and chanting, "Less gab, more stab," I'll get on with it. Shanks at the ready, everyone!
Of course, great things often come from inauspicious beginnings, as we open with another edition of Hill's Harlequin Crackhead Monologues. He tells us that all the relationships in our lives are colored by the way we relate to our family. He adds, "No wonder the world's so fucked up!" and gives an Eddie Murphy-as-Cameroon-exchange-student-in-Trading Places "Ha ha ha ha ha!" Hill, in keeping with the point you just made, you're so annoying I want to slap your mama.
Said's doing some research in the library when Schillinger greets him and tells him he read his book. Said: "I don't give refunds." A snarky Said? Yeah, this has potential. Schillinger says he liked it, but Said merely snorts and asks what he wants. Schillinger says that Said is a man who wants to use the law against himself, which Said has said himself in almost exactly the same words. I'd like to note that this episode is chock full of little nods to Continuity, and given the systematic anal rape he took in the later seasons of both Buffy and Oz, it's nice to hearken back to his halcyon days. Schillinger goes on that he too wants to fuck the system, and says he wants Said to defend him at his conspiracy to commit murder trial. Said laughs incredulously, but Schillinger makes his pitch: If Said defends him, an Aryan, it'll stun Glynn and McManus, and rock the outside world. "You'll be known as a man who truly strives for justice, blind to race, unfettered by prejudice." Said, after blinking disbelievingly and giving a dramatic pause long enough for Godot to show up and fill us in on what he's been up to for the past several years, says he'll think about it. You may disagree, but I think this pitch to Said's ego is spot-on. My only problem with this whole idea is that I don't think the Aryan Brotherhood is going to respond too well to Schillinger enlisting Said's help, but I think Schillinger can pitch it in a clever enough manner to convince them. Really, all he'd have to do is flash that grin -- it's enough to scare heaven, hell, and everything in between.
Wangler roots around in Poet's stuff until he finds some of his poems on a little notepad. Poet catches him, and Wangler rips one of the pages off and crumples it. Poet's reaction is somewhere in the range of "angry, but on heroin," which may be just what he was going for, but I think it's just because muMs sucks rocks as an actor. Anyway, the hacks break them up. They're led off, and Said looks concerned as Adebisi dances maliciously in the background. I'd lay good odds that whatever he's listening to has the subliminal message "Kill!" sprinkled liberally through it, with smatterings of "Rape!" as well. Maybe he's listening to GWAR.
McManus lectures Wangler that it's his third incident in as many weeks, and that he's sending him back to the kitchen. Tim, you said you'd send him to Gen Pop the time he fucked up, so thanks for wussing out again when it really counts. Asshole. Wangler sits there petulantly, and I swear all I want to do is rip that ridiculous pantyhose cap off his head and burn it on a blazing fire. The smell probably wouldn't be too good, but it would so be worth it. McManus also tells him that he won't be allowed to attend graduation, which gets Wangler's attention, as he already invited his "girl" and his mother. Tough beans, dickhead. And stick that cap back in a L'Eggs egg where it belongs. Outside, Wangler and Poet stare each other down, their collective intimidation powers being roughly akin to those of Reichen and Chip (for those of you who don't watch The Amazing Race, that translates as "nonexistent"), and then Poet's in McManus's office. McManus exposits that Poet is indeed going to have his parole reviewed, and that he has to stay out of trouble, even if it means putting up with Wangler. How is it possible that I sympathize with both Poet and Wangler, and yet I can't stand either of them? Sometimes misanthropy can be very trying. (Yeah, I know, you don't care.) McManus goes on that Sister Pete told him Poet hasn't been going to drug counselling, but he'll let that slide too, because "You give this place a good name." You know, vomit isn't the easiest thing to clean off a laptop. Poet agrees to behave himself.
Cut to the hearing. The leader of the panel reads off Poet's number and name in a very meta way. He says that he's going to ask Poet a series of questions, after which they'll make a recommendation to the parole board. He asks if Poet has any questions. Poet shows good judgment by saying no, rather than "Do any of you all have any smack?" which is what he was undoubtedly thinking.
And, thanks to the Tesseract Television that Oz so often employs, we cut right to McManus entering the classroom and saying he has good news. Kirk looks at him and Coushaine and wonders, "You two are engaged?" It's time to buy that lottery ticket, because Timmy Kirk made me laugh. It's Coushaine's dumbfounded look that sells the moment, though. I hope we get a prisoner flashback for the guy at some point, because frankly, he's so strait-laced that I find it hard to believe he's ever even jaywalked, much less committed a felony. Anyway, McManus announces that Poet has been granted parole. Poet just stares with an expression that would be more fitting to bad news -- for example, that he HADN'T gotten parole. God. I'm sure it's very unenlightened of me not to be moved by muMs's poetry, but the fact is that Rick Fox is a better actor than he is, and I really can't abide all the time spent on his storyline. McManus says that the paperwork will take a couple of days, so he'll get out right after graduation, and Coushaine adds that that will be fitting, as he and McManus have chosen Poet to be the year's valedictorian. That annoyed me too, but we know that Poet could at least read and write before the class even started, so it makes a certain amount of sense. McManus says that Poet's good fortune should inspire them all, while Wangler looks on with whatever the male equivalent of "bitchface" is. McManus gives them all a little pumped fist that at least made me laugh in its ridiculousness, and then leaves as Poet tries for pensive, but really looks like muMs doesn't even realize the cameras have been rolling for the last minute and a half.
And it's the Pernicious Peewee! I didn't realize what a good character he is until I had to go a few episodes without him. In Glynn's office, the PP mutters to Glynn that McManus needs a little education himself, "in reality." McManus enters, and bitches to Glynn about the "sneak attack." God, shut it, you self-important git. Glynn informs him that "the state" has decided to eliminate the GED program from the year's budget. McManus says the PP can't do that, but the PP gives the "watch me, candy-ass" answer that they need more hacks, and the budget can't handle both. He says that he'll be making a formal announcement on the fifteenth, and that the news is classified until then. McManus whines that that's three days after graduation, and the PP duhs that he planned it that way, so as not to ruin the ceremony. McManus continues in that stroppy tone that I wouldn't take with my mother, let alone my boss, demanding to know if the PP is coming to the graduation. The PP smiles and mock-sighs, "Unfortunately, yes. The wages of spin." Hee! He leaves. Pernicious Peewee, you are my anti-McManus, and a higher compliment I cannot bestow. McManus looks at Glynn, who's all, "I'm the most incompetent warden in history. Why would you even think of dragging me into this?"
McManus walks with a TV station representative, saying he doesn't want a big production that will distract the inmates. He also says that he wants the segment to run for three minutes, and perhaps you heard a wheezing sound coming from across the Atlantic? That was me, trying to catch my breath after laughing so hard. You'll take the fifteen-second sound bites they give you and like it, tool. He smarms, "I want your viewers to know that something good's coming out of Oz." Amazingly, the rep doesn't laugh in his face. You know he's going to be reciting this conversation when he gets back to the station, though.
Graduation. McManus is speaking, and in keeping with the historic (well, to me, anyway) nature of this recap, I'm going to give a shout-out to the old Dawson's Wrap days and note that my Maalox scorecard is really getting a workout here. Shots of McManus through a video camera are interspersed as he blathers about a "communal victory" and changing lives, until he gets to his big moment: He drops the bomb about the GED program being discontinued, and while this is totally inappropriate and not his place, the PP was sort of asking for it. Plus, I saw it coming from a mile away, unlike a certain later development involving this character. Also, right afterward, we get a shot of the PP's reaction through the video camera. Hee. It's the "Oh No He Di-Int!" of camera work. Needless to say, the PP doesn't look pleased, although he's certainly not fuming. to him, Glynn looks amused, and number one on my list of 1001 Reasons Why Glynn Is Better Than McManus is that he doesn't take himself so goddamned seriously all the time. Maybe the world needs people like McManus, but that doesn't mean I need him on my television. McManus blathers on, eventually having the nerve to quote Chuck D, and it was at this point that I thought my McManus hate could not go any further. He's already Public Enemy Number One in my book. But no. There's a whole new subbasement to be explored. And that's just in this episode.
McManus finally gives up the stage to Poet, who recites a long poem that I thankfully have an excuse to skip, as I'm only ten minutes into the episode and I'm already on page four. Pete smiles and nods sagely during the poem, like she has the slightest clue what he's talking about. Poet "rhymes" "Dom Perignon," which he mispronounces, and "Armageddion [sic]," and this is genius? muMs the word, Poet. muMs the word. McManus smiles, but Mukada has a "what the fuck is this shit?" look on his face, and I am not kidding. Word, Father Ray. Poet says he has "144,000 rhymes for every brain cell," and either he's saying that he has 144,000 rhymes for every brain cell, which is truly too horrifying to contemplate, or he only has 144,000 brain cells, which is far easier for me to accept. Anyway, he finally finishes up, and the audience applauds as he hugs a Sunday-dressed woman that I'll assume is his mother. Aw. Coushaine presents the graduates as Glynn and an obviously grumpy PP get to their feet. Hee. Coushaine calls each of the graduate's names in voice-over as we see Wangler mopping the floor back in Oz. Ha! I feel bad for his mother in more ways than one, but he totally brought this on himself.
Men's room. McManus enters to find the PP pee-peeing. Man, the Foley guys must drink an awful lot of water during the day, because they consistently pipe in the loudest sound effects. I mean, there are things I'm willing to take on faith, okay? McManus whips his out, as once again the show literalizes a metaphorical concept, and jauntily asks why the PP didn't stay around for cake and coffee. Yeah, I think he's had enough coffee already. The PP is all, "McManus, McManus, McManus," and tut-tuts that McManus must think the PP is vulnerable with his wife having left him, the drop in the polls he took after the riots, and the corruption charges he's facing. I hope he's not going to tell us that he's been shacking up with a gay couple for the past several months, because the description is already frighteningly Giuliani-esque. McManus: "I'm a simple man with a simple plan." This would be unbearable if I weren't absolutely sure that the PP is so about to put McManus in his place. Sure enough, he responds, "Yes. But I'm not." The PP says that his enemies have underestimated him. "The voters and I have a love-hate relationship. They know I'm a bully. They suspect I'm dishonest. They even assume I cheated on my wife." However, he says, crime and taxes are down, while employment is up, and the literacy rate is second in the country. "So do you seriously think that John and Jane Q. Public give a shit that some drugged-out homeboy is gonna get a diploma, knowing that their own little darlings are going to Yale?" Yeah, I'm thinking you're not getting three minutes on the evening news, Timbo. He pats McManus on the arm, and as he walks out he snarks, "Enjoy that coffee and cake." Ha! I'm going to take a break from the recap and watch that scene, oh, I don't know, about 17,000 times.
Cut to Hill, who is, I kid you not, dressed in pajamas and a night hat, sitting in a large crib surrounded by oversized stuffed animals. He does lewd enough things to a giraffe to make PETA consider opening a stuffed department as he tells us, "People want to get back at their parents for making them be born!" Hill, I've already dissed your mother once in this recap, so you can just intuit my comment.
Wangler enters Poet's pod and exposits that Poet is leaving that day. He says he heard Poet's poem from the graduation (how?) and that he really liked it. He apologizes for all the shit he's been giving Poet (although why he got so bent out of shape is never explained), and says that Poet is really good. Since that's coming from Wangler, I feel no need to adjust my views on the subject. Poet offers that it was "fucked up" that Wangler wasn't allowed to graduate, and Wangler tells him that it was hard to call his mother and explain, as she'd been really proud of him lately. Again, why'd he do it? I know he was under pressure from Adebisi, but all that anger toward Poet was just bizarre. Anyway, Wangler asks Poet to write a letter to his mother for him, apologizing for all the shit he's pulled. Poet points out that Wangler could write the letter himself, but Wangler says that Poet's the one with the words, and wake me up when this whole Poet-o de Bergerac storyline is over, will you? Wangler does add that he doesn't have the "vocabulary," and his little stutter over that line is one of the continuity nods I mentioned earlier. Nice one, Tom. Wangler offers him some drugs to seal the deal, and tell me Poet isn't going to be so stupid as to snort on the very day he's supposed to be getting out. Use one of your 144,000 brain cells and wise up, jerky. But he doesn't. Oy.
Later, Said comes to see Poet. Said asks if he's packed, but Poet says he doesn't want to "take anything out of this place," which is a nice sentiment, although I hope he's including his poems in that. He goes on that leaving Oz is like waking up from a dream, and Said agrees by quoting Aristotle: "Hope is a waking dream." McManus comes to get Poet, saying his mother's there to collect him, and I find it oddly amusing that his mother is picking him up from prison just like it's day care. Poet very sincerely thanks them both, and McManus unsmilingly stands there like a tool, probably because no one's ever thanked him for anything, so he never had the need to learn a little sentence called "You're welcome." God. Said recites his usual blessing, and Poet's gone. I have to say with the delay in the release and the drugs that Wangler gave him, I thought there was no way Poet was actually getting out, so this was a pleasant surprise in more ways than one.
Some hack tells Shirley (yay!) that she's the prettiest girl on Death Row. I'd point out that I don't think there are any other "girls" on Death Row, but I think he might actually have been trying to be funny there. Anyway, she favors him with a smile, and he lets Mukada in to see her. Cut to the two of them sitting on the bed, as Shirley muses that she never was one for religion, which makes it doubly amusing when she refers to atheists as "whatchadingies." Hee. Mukada asks if she's an atheist, although if I were in his position I totally would have asked, "Are you a whatchadingy?" Wait for it: Because I'm twelve. She says since the "accident" she's had all kinds of feelings, and Mukada flinches at that description of the circumstances of her daughter's death. She asks for him to save her, and soon her hands are in naughty, and new, places. And I thought she was barking up the wrong tree with Kirk. From the music on the soundtrack, you'd think a litter of puppies was about to be run over by an eighteen-wheeler, and indeed Mukada looks like he can't decide whether he's more horrified that she's hitting on a priest or that he's being hit on by a woman. Mukada calls for the hack, but Shirley wails that she's "so fucked up" (uh, yeah) and starts crying. She apologizes, and he sits back down and hugs her. I would have laughed really hard if she started hitting on him again, but it's not to be.
Hill, still in the crib, tells us that since you don't get to see your real family in Oz, you do things that help keep them closer to you in your mind. He seems to have made up with the giraffe, although they may just have settled into a classic prag relationship.
McManus goes to see Schillinger in Gen Pop. Schillinger, playing pool, snarks, "What brings you down to the low-rent district?" Hee. And I get another snicker from realizing that that's the same pool table Schillinger will be using to sink his, er, "cue" into Petey Schibetta's, uh, "pocket." McManus says that just because he's not in Em City anymore doesn't mean he doesn't care about him. Unlike so many other people on this show, Schillinger actually does laugh in his face, which just gives me another reason to love him. He goes on, "McManus, I had to listen to your sanctimonious crap when I lived in Em City, but I don't have to now." And that's a shout-out if I've ever heard one. McManus admits he doesn't care about him, and Schillinger loudly notes, "Honesty!" for his hangers-on. In a lower voice, McManus says he wants to talk to him about his accusation that Diane shot Scott Ross. I don't know why he's dredging this up again. Really. Schillinger says he saw it happen, and McManus presses him for details. Schillinger scoffs that McManus just wants to protect her, and that they'll just bury the truth. McManus: "Not this time." Schillinger actually believes him. Uch.
Cut to Diane at the control panel. McManus happens by, and Diane stops him. She says that since her mother is in the hospital, her daughter is staying with a friend nearby, and since he had asked to meet her (another nod to continuity), she thought she could take the three of them to dinner that night. It's also worth noting for later that she says she's told her daughter a lot about him. Anyway, he unenthusiastically accepts. The sentence "You can do better, Diane" graciously accepts its award at the Understatement Of The Year competition.
Staff lounge. Officer Heim, last seen in "The Tip," bangs on a soda machine that just ate his money. He repeatedly bangs on an image of a little girl sipping a soda. Hee. It's probably giving the show too much credit to call this a subtle reminder of the SORT guys' reputation for violence, but this is an A+ episode, so why the hell not? Although Heim is wearing a regular hack's uniform here. McManus enters, and we learn that these two are friends when McManus says he can't make it to their poker night. Heim laughs when he hears about McManus's plans, saying that he and Diane are "on again, off again." Don't remind me of the scene when they were "on," Heim. McManus says they're definitely off. Heim asks why, and when McManus isn't forthcoming, says, "Timmy boy, you have got to be the most transparent man on God's green earth." And the shout-outs keep on coming. Heim says that McManus has pulled away from Diane ever since Case investigated the riot. McManus admits that he thinks Diane killed Ross, although he's only got Schillinger's word, because when he asked Diane about it, she lied. Heim asks how he knows. McManus: "You sleep with someone, you know." I think we all know that's not true, but following his logic, I guess it's fair to conclude that these two have never slept together, because Heim is lying his ass off about what he knows. Anyway, McManus leaves, and Heim goes to the phone and calls Diane.
McManus meets Diane in the locker room. She steels her courage and says she knows her has doubts about what happened to Ross, and asks if he remembers the look in Ross's eyes when he shot him. McManus says he does, but he doesn't remember anything after that. Diane says that she doesn't remember much either, but she did what she did because Ross was trying to kill McManus. McManus snots, "And that justifies it." Actually, it does, and any court of law would tell you the same, so stow it, fuckwad. Diane agrees with me. McManus says that what she's saying goes against his worldview, but Diane earnestly says that not everyone lives in the same world as him (a declaration that was the first runner-up at the Understatement Awards) and "for most of us, what has to be done matters more than what should be done." I couldn't have said it better, although I would have added "dickhead" at the end. At this point, Pete brings in Diane's daughter Didi, and she's adorable, in a not-so-precious-that-you'd-want-to-smack-her way. Diane nervously asks if he still wants to get dinner. McManus regards her coldly. "No." Now, you have to realize, a lot of what we recappers write is hyperbole. I don't actually fall asleep while writing recaps, I've never actually stabbed myself in the eye, and I have never been fired, to the best of my knowledge. So know that I am telling you the God's honest truth when I tell you that when McManus did this, I yelled, "WHAT A FUCKING DICK!" at my computer. I cannot believe him. At least, at least, if you have to be such an ass to Diane, make it easier on the kid -- graciously say you're not feeling well or something. God. This scene reminds me of the part in You Can Count On Me when Mark Ruffalo is mad at Laura Linney and backs out of taking her son fishing, and she tries to talk him out of taking his anger at her out on the kid, but he won't budge, and she finally seethes, "You suck." Of course, Mark Ruffalo (a) changed his mind, and (b) at least DIDN'T HAVE THE CONVERSATION IN FRONT OF THE KID. I will tell you now, I hate McManus with the fire of a thousand suns, and nothing he does from this point will ever change that. The only thing I'll say for him is that I agree that Diane should have let Ross kill him, but only because that means we'd be free of his complete and utter suckitude forever. Wow, does he suck.
ANYWAY. Hill's playing solitaire in the laundry room when Busmalis and Rebadow enter. Busmalis spills some dirt on the floor, which leads Rebadow to confess about the tunnel-digging. They offer him a chance to come along, but Hill, surprisingly good-naturedly considering his recent failed brush with freedom, notes that they won't have handicapped access. He encourages them to go for it.
Flashback to the half-naked Mexican standoff between Adebisi and Schibetta, then cut to Glynn's office, where Glynn accuses Schibetta of plotting to kill Adebisi. Schibetta's gotten a haircut, by the way, and I hope he tipped the barber, because his hair finally doesn't look like a giant Brillo pad. And since this barber is obviously a miracle worker, maybe he can attend to Beecher . Glynn warns Schibetta that if Adebisi dies, he's coming after him, but Schibetta pooh-poohs him, saying that he's got Glynn in his pocket for eternity. He picks up a picture of Glynn and a man we'll soon learn is his brother, and muses that he likes Glynn because he's a family man. Glynn grabs the picture away, and Schibetta guesses they have nothing more to talk about, and you really have to be a little taller to sell this Godfather thing. Or in Brando's case, a little wider. Glynn looks like he wants to hit someone. Cut to him doing the best thing, hitting a heavy bag. He's not even wearing wraps on his hands, and I'll tell you from experience, you have to have thrown an awful lot of punches to be able to do that without fucking up your wrists, so I'm thinking Ernie Hudson isn't to be trifled with. In other words, I hope he doesn't read my recaps.
Glynn's brother enters the prison. He enters Leo's office, and they hug. The brother judges from Glynn's expression that "some kind of shit has hit some sort of fan." Leo takes a deep breath and tells his bro that he can't keep protecting him from Schibetta. Brother Glynn says he didn't mean to kill anyone, as we flash back to him beating the shit out of some guy while a third dude, who looks gaunt and Eevil, as well as Italian, holds a gun on him. Gaunt Dude hands Brother Glynn the gun, and he shoots the hapless guy. Yeah, I'm not really seeing that whole "I didn't mean to" argument. It's sort of like when this friend of mine said she "accidentally" had sex with some guy. Everyone I know, including me: "What, she tripped and fell on his dick?" Leo tells Brother Glynn, whose name is apparently "Mark," that he has to turn himself in. Mark clarifies that the gaunt Italian ordered him to shoot the guy, although that wasn't clear from the flashback. He certainly didn't hesitate for very long, if at all. Anyway, Leo isn't moved. Mark cries as he accepts his fate, although I don't know why he has to turn himself in just because Leo says so. Maybe he's seen Leo hit the heavy bag too.
Kitchen. Adebisi tells Schibetta he spread rat poison around (hello, Continuity!). Schibetta says he should have used the traps. "Now the rats crawl into the fucking walls to die." So their skeletons will keep Cloutier company, then. After some back-and-forth that, not surprisingly, goes all Adebisi's way, Schibetta orders him to get him a chocolate bar. Oh, Petey, Petey, Petey. Didn't your mother tell you not to take candy from strangers? Is Adebisi not strange enough for you? When Adebisi goes on his little errand, Alvarez approaches him and says he's been thinking about his offer, and while he won't kill Schibetta, he'd still like to do business. He lets it spill that Schibetta has something on Glynn, and Glynn probably wouldn't mind if any harm came to him. Adebisi still thinks he can't get away with killing Schibetta, but Alvarez suggests slowing him down instead. If this were Queer As Folk U.S., we'd get a spotlight shot of the box of rat poison Adebisi's still holding, but thankfully, it's not. Although the sex scenes certainly have a lot in common. Adebisi regards the chocolate and the poison and tells Alvarez they "can tango." That, I'd like to see. Alvarez covers him as he poisons the chocolate.
Glynn walks into the ward, where Gloria tells him that Schibetta was brought in "vomiting and pissing blood." I can't believe that wasn't shown on screen. Tom must have been sick that day. Schibetta, looking rather peaked, demands that Glynn deliver Adebisi to him. Does he want him to jump out of a cake or something? Glynn refuses, and drops the bomb that his brother turned himself in, and their deal is over. And I thought Schibetta looked pale before.
Kitchen. Glynn informs Pancamo, along with Pancamo's helmet, that the Italians are out of the kitchen and into the dress factory, effective immediately, if not sooner. Pancamo and Adebisi exchange words as Chuckie leaves, and then Glynn turns his attention to Adebisi, telling him that if he can prove Adebisi poisoned Schibetta, it won't go well for him. Glynn 2.0: Busting Balls And Loving It.
Hill tells us that when brothers work together, amazing stuff happens. As we see Mark led into custody, he continues, "When they don't, life sucks."
We flash back to Keller breaking Mack's nose; then we see Mack spinning in a wheelchair in the infirmary. Alvarez leads Keller in and tells him to wait. Mack tells Keller he's getting his nose checked, and we flash back again to Mack's nose bleeding, even though in the first flashback we clearly heard Mack say, "You broke my fucking nose!" Boooo. Keller says he's getting his cast off, but Mack is still testy. Keller says he already apologized, and that he had to make it look good for Beecher. I wondered whether Mack was in on the plan from the beginning. Mack says after Beecher's dead, they've got a score to settle, and Keller's all, bring it on. Were Keller's eyes always that steely bluish grey? Whoa, sorry. Mack leaves, and Gloria comes over and starts up the cast-cutting machine. Keller mock-screams and grins wide, and that's a refreshing change from his usual dead-eyed brooding, I'll tell you what.
And now another scene you've all been waiting for, judging from the forums. Keller and Beecher enter the gym, and Keller starts teaching Beecher how to wrestle. Okay, this is porn, plain and simple. Nothing wrong with it, but let's call a spade a spade. Keller takes Beecher down a few times as Schillinger surreptitiously watches. We only see his face, so to what degree he's enjoying the proceedings is unclear, but he certainly seems pleased enough. Meanwhile, who wears short shorts? Keller wears short shorts, and I'd say something about his ass, but I know you've all seen "Revenge Is Sweet," so I won't bother. Schillinger leaves before Beecher and Keller go again from a position that, well, to put it delicately, calls to mind the words "arf arf." Keller definitely gets a hand in Beecher's crotch at one point; then he takes off his shirt, credits-style. If you ask me, they're doing this all out of order, but what do I know about wrestling? Beecher goes shirtless also. Someone needs to hose these two down already. And after that, the hose should be turned on the forums. Put those cigarettes down, people! You don't even smoke! (Sars, you're excused.)
Cut to Beecher and Keller playing chess. No, not like that. They're already bantering like a couple. McManus somberly enters and asks Beecher for a word. Keller asks what Beecher did, but Beecher explains that if you do something wrong, you go to McManus's office, while if he comes to you, it's to deliver bad news. Sounds right to me. McManus asks if Beecher wants Keller. He says yes. Actually, he asked if he wanted Keller to hear this, but I think the answer was "yes" to both questions. McManus tells Beecher that his wife killed herself. Beecher tries valiantly to hold it together as he asks how. The answer is that she locked herself in the garage and started the car running. Oy. Beecher asks about his kids, is told that they're fine and with his family, and says he wants to see them, to which McManus answers that he already scheduled a visit for the following day. McManus says he's sorry. Beecher asks if Genevieve left a note, and McManus says he'll try to find out. He leaves. Keller asks if Beecher wants to keep playing, or go wrestle, or for him to leave. Beecher shakes his head, and then covers his face in his hands. Keller grabs his head, and tells him to cry if he wants, but Beecher's a big girl now, so he throws the table over instead. That gets everyone's attention, but Keller easily tells the hack that there's no problem. Beecher hugs the wall as Keller bets himself that he can be in Beecher's pants within a day.
Schillinger delivers the mail. He gives Beecher, who's playing cards with Keller, a note on Cartier stationery, then laughs about Beecher's wife. Beecher ignores him and reads the note. He tells Keller that it's from Genevieve. "She says that I did it. I killed her just like that little girl." Well, that's the guilt that keeps on giving. He stomps off.
Beecher comes into the visiting area and asks an older woman (it's his grandmother, and I totally recognize the actress from All My Children, which is pathetic) where the kids are. She tells him they're in the playroom, but she asks him to wait, and tells him that the kids were the ones that found her. Ugh. You know, I bet the psychiatric profession mourned the systematic thinning of the Beecher herd, because the therapy bills this family would have generated would be enough for several yachts and college educations, I'd wager. She begs him to go slowly, and wonders whether they should have come this soon, as the kids are still in shock. Beecher seethes and looks through the window at his kids. Suddenly we're in a flashback, as the drum of Oh God, They're Not Really Going There crashes a warning. Beecher's kids, cutely decked out in their bicycle helmets, open the garage door as birds incongruously chirp. Luckily, there's a lot of smoke, and they cut away before we see anything, although we do just catch the son starting to run away in horror. Of all the visceral reactions this show has provoked in me, this one was way up there, and that's saying a lot. In the present, Beecher says he understands, but then snaps, "Get them the fuck out of here." Oh, no no no, Toby. I wouldn't say I have a very extensive moral code, but number one on my list is that you don't say "fuck" to your grandmother. That one's non-negotiable. The grandmother collects the kids as Beecher watches sadly.
Keller is woken up by the sound of Beecher crying. Keller asks what's wrong, and Beecher sobs that he's completely fucked up his life. He says he's all alone, but Keller hugs him from behind and says he's not. Then he slides his hand down and grabs Beecher's dick, which is hanging out of his boxers. Upon examination as close as my DVD player would allow, I think that was a prosthetic, but points for the idea, anyway. Beecher throws Keller off and tells him not to touch him. Yeah, I think you jumped the gun a little bit, Chris. But only a little.
Hill talks about husbands and wives. He's stuck his face in one of those cardboard stands with the faces cut out that you see at carnivals. The drawing is of a man and woman wearing costumes out of the Old West, and as he talks from the man's head, his face appears in the woman's head spot as well. His two heads talk about marriage being miserable, and make funny faces and call each other "bitch" and "motherfucker," and for the first time in a long time he's made me laugh instead of wanting to throttle him. That's called "catching lightning in a bottle."
Pete stares at something in the foreground as Mukada walks in asking for a lift, as his car broke down. She doesn't hear him at first, but when he gets her attention, she invites him in and asks for his help. She's written down the words that Giles keeps repeating to her on a chalkboard, and asks if he sees any pattern. Mukada eventually sounds out the words "sick" and "amore" as "sycamore," and Pete's face hardens into the look of Hey, Maybe This Plotline Is Finally Going Somewhere! She changes "broom" to "Broome," and soon she's telling Mukada that Sycamore and Broome is the corner where her husband was killed. If Mukada's silence is any indication, he's thinking the same thing I am, which is, "What the hell do you say to that?"
Cut to Pete in solitary. She orders a hack to let her into see Giles, and although he babbles something about restraints and Glynn's orders and he's about a foot and a half taller than Pete, as Bart Simpson would say, he folds faster than Superman on laundry day. She enters, and takes a couple of deep breaths before she can ask if Giles murdered her husband. "Is this confession by Morse Code?" Hee. He says no, and she asks what, then. He says, "Peter, Peter Marie," and she frustratedly tells him not to start that again. It's probably too much to take that as a shout-out too, huh? Through further questioning, Pete determines that Giles witnessed her husband's death, but when she asks who pushed him, Giles covers his head with a sweater. She pulls it off him, and his hair is hilariously flattened. She begs to know who pushed him, and he comes out with, "Abe." She presses him some more, and he finally freaks, shouting "ABE!" over and over again. Back to the drawing board, Pete.
Hill tells us that we can get our families to do anything for us. So I should expect a new sound system for Christmas, then?
Alvarez enters Ryan's pod, and gives him something in a paper bag in exchange for some money. Alvarez says he doesn't understand why he would pay money for the item in question, which we see is one of Gloria's stethoscopes. I'm going to have to crane my neck to recap the rest of this episode, because Ryan is clearly going around the bend. Alvarez tells Ryan they can't find love in Oz. Miguel, why do you hurt Torquemada so? Alvarez leaves, but Ryan, wearing the stethoscope and looking at himself in the mirror, says, "You're wrong." Ryan, send me a postcard from the edge, will you?
Ryan calls Gloria, and when she hears his voice she goes colder than the reviews for Gigli. He tries to arrange to see her, and says a bunch of stalkery things like "I want you to take care of me" and finally, simply, "I love you." She hangs up. Pete is sitting with Gloria, and Gloria tells her that Ryan is calling her ten times a day and writing her love letters. While I think my reaction might be just a little different, I certainly understand why she's getting creeped out, as she puts it. Pete asks if she's been encouraging him, which she flatly denies, and then offers to talk to Ryan for her. Gloria accepts the offer, and Pete takes the letters. Pete! You're a nun!
Ryan enters Pete's office. She asks how he's feeling, and he says that some days are better than others. Pete spouts her theory that since his life was in danger and now it isn't, he's feeling the need to replace the fear he experienced with something else. He squints at her like he's trying to follow along, and I know the feeling, but at least I'm aware of where she's ultimately going with this. Pete tells him that he's been focusing an awful lot on Gloria, and that it's easy to mistake appreciation for affection. I guess I appreciate Ryan an awful lot, then. Ryan asks if she's saying that his feelings aren't real, and Pete doesn't go that far, but delicately opines that Gloria (whom she's deliberately referring to as "Dr. Nathan," by the way) has "a different perspective." Yeah, "get the hell away from me, psycho" is usually different from "I love you." Not always, though. Pete says that if he really cares for Gloria, he should respect her feelings and leave her alone. Ryan says sometimes he just needs to hear her voice. Pete: "I understand. But she doesn't want to hear yours." Jeez, kick the chemo patient while he's down, why don't you. Ryan looks like he's going to cry as Pete goes on that real love is reciprocal, but when only one party has those feelings, it's obsession. A tear actually rolls down Ryan's cheek as he smiles that what he feels for Gloria is "the truest, best thing I've ever had, in my whole fuckin' life. And you're not gonna take it away from me." Yeah, you sort of missed the point there, Ryan. He gets angry and yells that nothing will ever change his feelings, and he's heated enough that McManus knocks on the door. Ryan opens it and notes that McManus dated her. "Did you fuck her?" Don't go there, Ryan. For the love of us all. McManus says that Gloria and Ryan are both married, and that he has to stop. Ryan yells that he can't. McManus closes the door, and Pete raises her eyebrows all, "Well, that went well."
Ryan slides something across a table. We see that Cyril is sitting with him as Ryan says he has to do something for him. Cyril: "But it's bad. You told me not to be bad anymore." Oh, this is heartbreaking. I'm choosing to believe that the chemo is seriously affecting Ryan's judgment, because I cannot believe that he would endanger Cyril's welfare like this. I'm probably kidding myself, though. Ryan tells him just to do it this one time, for him. Cyril agrees. "I love you, bro." Ryan tells him he loves him too. Yeah, Heartbreak City, that scene right there.
And it doesn't end. Tesseract TV has Gloria enter Glynn's office, with Glynn and McManus already there. Glynn none too gently breaks it to her that her husband's been murdered, and Lauren Velez does a very credible job of breaking down as McManus comforts her. Ye gods, this episode is leaving me with a not-so-fresh feeling. And we didn't even see any bodily fluids.
Hill, in silhouette, tells us that sometimes he remembers things he did and experienced as a child. A light comes on, and we see it's actually a kid with dreads. Nice. to the kid, Hill says that those memories seem like they happened to another person, a century or two ago. Insert monologue joke here. Hill goes on that he's not even sure if his memories are real, and you can't build your life on the perceptions of a child. "You got to let all that shit go. You got to start fresh." Cut to Ryan, listening to his heart through the stethoscope. "Every single day, you have got to start again." And that's it.
Thanks for reading. See you in a few weeks for the infamous Adebisi/Schibetta scene.