Pepa. Cool.
This week, Augustus Hill will be discussing Vikings, those bawdy Norsemen who wore hats with pointy horns on them and wreaked havoc from England to Russia. Hill, playing with a sword, has donned a hat with pointy horns on it to demonstrate. Except that the Vikings never wore those pointy-horned hats, says Hill. Um, they probably weren't black with dreads either, dude. And, continues Hill, since they had very limited farming space, they only pillaged to survive. Oh, so survival-driven pillaging is okay. But what about the "rape" part?
Flashback to Alvarez telling the large-featured kid to kill Guerra. Hey, I got my wish -- there's his ass, um, haul-assing toward Guerra, whose ass, along with the rest of him, is taking a shower. Double your pleasure, double your fun -- what could be better than two asses in one? Unfortunately, I think the only penetration will be blade-related. So this kid -- oh, his name's Jaime -- presses a shank against Guerra's back and tells him that death will be kindly stopping for him right about now, that the end is nigh, and that's just how it is. Guerra asks Jaime to let him turn around and take it like a man (I think he's slightly confused there), and Jaime, since he's young and dumb, falls for Guerra's request. Guerra spins and pushes Jaime, who falls on his back, as we get a full frontal shot of Guerra. Wow, it's wish fulfillment run amok. Jaime meets his maker as Guerra smashes his head repeatedly into the tile wall.
Alvarez, gracing the door of Mukada's office, requests a confession. Mukada tells him to come back on Saturday afternoon, but Alvarez really wants to confess now. Mukada relents and sits at his desk; Alvarez, seated opposite, talks about how he's been all over the place since getting out of solitary, just trying to prove that he's not a pussy. "I know what you mean," says Mukada. Why? Because Mukada has also been trying to prove that he's not a pussy? Or just that he is one (bing bing bing -- that's the winning answer! Do I get the washer/dryer?)? Mukada says he should have died in that bus accident (hey -- he said it, not me), and that Cloutier's missing, which he thinks "is supposed to mean something," but he "can't figure out what that something is." Well, don't worry, Father. Don't tax your pretty little head; anyone with a first-grade education has known exactly what "it" means for months now, so just pick up the phone and we'll explain it to you. Alvarez asks Mukada to pray an extra-super-duper prayer for him; as Mukada looks confused, Alvarez reveals that someone died because of him. Dramatic music swells, since this is clearly the first time that Alvarez has been responsible for a death. "Jaime Velez?" asks Mukada. Alvarez says the corpse in question was innocent (he must have been really surprised to find himself in prison, then). Mukada tells Alvarez that although they've had their moments, he thinks that Alvarez has a good soul and will figure out a way to right the wrong. And if he doesn't? "Then you really are a pussy," says Mukada, reminding me of countless childhood confessions and priestly words of wisdom.
An attractive woman explains her program -- "Man's Best Friend" -- to McManus, who's reading something else and only pretending to listen. I was listening, however, and am pleased to report that Man's Best Friend employs prisoners to train seeing-eye dogs, since (it's PSA time again) there are lots of visually-impaired people and a decent pool of potential guide dogs, but not enough people to train them. It's been a smash. Smellie enters, pissed that McManus has started talking to this woman before she arrived. She goes for "icy," but misses the mark, landing somewhere near "dyspeptic." McManus looks like the doofus that he is. Smellie raises concerns, but PrettyDogLady addresses them: yes, the program has been a success, with a high percentage of dogs qualifying and an even higher percentage of prisoners displaying better attitudes; yes, the specific skills needed to train the dogs can be taught; no, the prisoners don't hurt the dogs, as they go from having nothing to nurturing a life. Yes, but do they have sex with them? This is Oz, PrettyDogLady; this is Oz. Smellie remains skeptical and grows increasingly breathy, saying she thinks starting small makes sense, as McManus picks at her until she finally snaps, "Fuck you, Tim," surprising PrettyDogLady, but not me, since I'm used to the fact that these two behave in a completely unprofessional manner that insults anyone with whom they are speaking, as well as themselves. Smellie wins when PrettyDogLady says that she prefers to start small, and then they both look at McManus, who probably starts and finishes small, as PrettyDogLady says she needs three volunteers.
McManus introduces the program to the inmates. Poet bitches about dogs in Oz, since he got bitten by one as a kid; Redding says he probably deserved to get bitten, and Hill muses that perhaps a dog will take his mind off his problems. Ryan thinks the "mutts are drug sniffers," but Alvarez and Penders decide to sign up despite Ryan's misgivings. Cyril asks Ryan if they can get a dog, but Ryan refuses. Because he's already got someone to follow him around, panting and eager.
Alvarez walks in for his interview with PrettyDogLady; he immediately starts playing with the requisite dog, so we know he'll get the job. PrettyDogLady expresses concern about Alvarez's record; he draws her attention to a guard he blinded (complete with flashback of horrific screaming, hollow eye sockets, and bloody flesh) and says that's why he needs to join the program. Because the hot color this season is atonement. Plus, says Alvarez, stroking his new friend, the dog already picked me, as the camera pans down to the dog lying on its side, right front paw raised, a look of absolute terror in its eyes, and you just know it's thinking, "If I can just endure this for a few more seconds, I'll get a cookie. I like cookies. Do I look fat in this leash? God, I hate my job."
Alvarez, Penders, and Hill signed up; Alvarez, Penders, and Hill were chosen. I mean, why waste time with superfluity? There three men walk into the cafeteria to meet their new charges; Penders immediately lunges for his "bitch," but PrettyDogLady explains that she'll assign the dogs and that the men will refer to them as such. And she actually picked Penders for this? Oh, yeah -- nobody else signed up. PrettyDogLady tells the men that the program is designed to teach the dogs -- and the men, ho ho ho -- obedience. More importantly, they must teach the dogs love and trust -- to be comfortable around all human beings. Alvarez's breasts are looking particularly large in this scene. Penders is just gross. Hill ascertains that the dogs will live with the men in their pods; Alvarez wonders how they will protect the dogs from the other inmates. Showcasing a level of optimism and misplaced trust shocking for a woman accustomed to working in the prison system, PrettyDogLady answers, "Love and trust." Alvarez indicates that neither exists in Oz, but PrettyDogLady just wants to dogs off her hands, right now. Amidst the expected jokes, the men bring their dogs back to Em City. Guerra marches up to Alvarez and asks if his dog has learned about pain; Alvarez warns him to stay away from the dog. Guerra taunts Alvarez for being afraid for his dog as he leans down; the dog, of course, growls and barks, and Guerra beats a hasty retreat as the other prisoners laugh.
More Viking goodness. They weren't all vicious brutes, says Hill. Some were actually pretty smart. They were good shipbuilders, for instance. So good that Leif Erickson landed in America first, sailing, some say, as far south as New York. And here's the smart part -- they took one look at New York Harbor and turned around and went home. And they wore those neat hats.
At mealtime, Beecher recaps Busmalis's letter-writing campaign to save Miss Sally's Schoolyard, feigning incredulity to hide the fact that he's wearing the big, ugly exposition hat. I'm amazed it fits over his hair. Yes, says Busmalis, but the show is no longer in production, according to this letter I received from the station manager. Sad. But hostess Whitney Allen will soon be appearing in a new exercise show called Sallycize (yes, it will so be spelled that way). Happy! Busmalis, because he's a titanic loser, wonders if Norma will have a place on the new show, and confesses that he still hopes to hear from her (Beecher tried to force the exposition hat onto my head here, but I'm having none of it). Which he hasn't. The cafeteria breaks into a rousing chorus of the beloved chart-topper "Move On." Rebadow sits down, shifting the focus of the conversation to cancer-boy. Busmalis, now wearing two hats, wants to know if Rebadow told them about his impending cure-funding lottery windfall, but Rebadow says he decided not to, since it would raise hopes, and he's not even sure that Brass bought the ticket. Why, there's Brass now! Rebadow runs after him, and has little trouble catching up. Yes, says an exasperated Brass, I did buy your ticket, but now I have to limp over and pretend to break up this fight that just started, so you and your scarf should just step off.
Now on break, Brass heads over to Unit B to check out his old stomping grounds. Pepa, as a fellow C.O., tells Brass that she's got PMS (Pepa Minus Salt? Okay, I'm sorry. I just slapped myself) as Schillinger calls his name. The old coot's happy to see Brass's pale face, since there are too many black C.O.s for comfort. Brass wonders if Schillinger knows who cut him, but Schillinger was with Robson on work duty that day. Wasn't a white man, says Schillinger. That I know for sure. Then Martinez calls him over, and Brass, feeling all belle of the ball, walks toward his cell. Martinez asks if Brass drinks, and when Brass wonders if he wants to go "grab a couple of beers," Martinez chuckles, and suggests instead a "blood piss shit puke cocktail." Before Brass has time to consider how yummy that might be, he's wearing one, all over his face. Now that's beyond nasty. The father of Madonna's first child just threw an excreta smoothie all over Officer Dave Brass. That's got to mean something, but I can't quite figure out what it is. Perhaps I'll ask Mukada. Martinez is dragged away while Brass screams and wipes vigorously at his face but, miraculously, doesn't puke.
In the infirmary, Dr. Nathan asks a clean but glum Brass how he's doing. Fine, he lies. She tells him he can go, but that he needs to come back in a week for blood work, as they need to check for all the bad stuff like hepatitis, HIV, pinworms. Then, while worrying about overstepping her bounds, she advises him to tell any sexual partners about the incident. Brass, realizing that tales of a shit shower are not likely to act as an aphrodisiac, snaps that Nathan is indeed sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. Actually, dickhead, it's exactly what she should be saying as a doctor.
Now it's time for her to deal with the other side of this little incident -- she enters Martinez's cell to examine him. He's all bloody and looks like he got beaten up pretty badly. I don't speak Spanish, so I have no idea what they're saying. Martinez reaches up and touches her face, and she reverts to English to tell him to stop. Then she tells the guard that Martinez should be in the hospital, but the guard won't budge without permission from Leo, so she sends him off to get it. Back to Martinez, who reaches for her face again as Nathan begins having rape flashbacks. She tells him to stop once more, but he reaches for her breast, and she flies off the handle and starts pummeling him. And pummeling him. And shouting that she told him to stop.
In Sister Pete's office, Nathan talks about beating Martinez and losing control. Pete thinks that she was actually in control -- finally asserting herself in the situation and taking back the control that she lost when she was raped. Nathan asks if Pete thinks she's antagonizing prisoners on purpose; Pete says no, but that she wants Nathan to answer a question she asked when she first returned to Oz after the rape. Why? Why, after being beaten and violated, did she choose to return to a place full of vicious men? Nathan doesn't know. Of course not. Could we gather all the clueless staffers in a room and have a quick debriefing session so they can stop wondering what's staring them in the face? Pollyanna Pete believes that if they work on this issue and find out what's going on, Nathan can begin to heal.
A statue of a human wearing a massive doughnut on its head can mean only one thing: Viking interlude. Hill recounts the Viking myth of human origin; in addition to souls and whatnot, the great god Odin gave them a place to live called Midgard, which was created from a giant's eyebrows. "Sounds almost true, don't it," muses Hill, "all of us living on the edge of an eyebrow." Nope, not remotely, but thanks for trying.
"Homosexuality," intones Said, "is an abomination against God." Schillinger and Sister Pete nod vigorously in agreement (since he just rapes and she just pimps, they don't really support man-love, I suppose), while Beecher sits stone-faced, likely contemplating the fineness of Keller. Yes, it's time for Sharing With Mortal Enemies. Today's topic? In da butt. Said points out that Schillinger has enjoyed back-door entry with Beecher (a sweeping hand motion indicates the specimen), Cyril O'Reily, and perhaps countless others (a shattered Italian springs to mind), but Schillinger asserts that he's never touched anyone. This sends Beecher into a screaming rage, for hell hath no fury like a homo spurned; he lunges for Schillinger and demands that he proclaim their love and the moments of passion they enjoyed. Pete jumps up, hand over mouth, as one of the hacks pries Beecher away from Schillinger, who leaves the room with a shrug and a smile. And immediately takes his mail cart on a search for his other buttboy, Peter Schibetta, whom he finds sitting in an empty office. Schibetta's made a miraculous and speedy recovery -- looks like he can use his ass for sitting and he appears compos mentos -- and is apparently waiting to see a shrink. Schillinger encourages his talking through a traumatic experience (like seeing Schillinger naked), but warns Schibetta not to get too specific about details, as that could lead to more trouble. Ever the joker, Schillinger advises Schibetta to "keep [his] sunny side up." Hee.
Pete visits Keller. How is he? Introspective. Introspective about irony. The irony of his life. Like me, Pete doesn't really give a shit about irony, or about Keller's life -- she wants to talk booty, and apologizes for her inability to convince Leo to let the lubing begin. The hardhearted warden feels the need to draw out this teasing and ridiculous separation even longer, and won't allow the two men to exchange love letters. Keller moans that it's harder to be apart from Beecher now, since they're in the same building, and then cuts the melodrama short by asking Pete if she's tracked down a good lawyer. Where could this possibly be going? I have no idea. Keller knows that he'll never see Beecher unless he beats the murder charges. So, wait -- did Keller get picked out of that line-up? Or was that just a scare tactic? I suppose follow-through on details is simply too much to demand. Pete tells Keller, "Keep the faith." He wants to know where; she indicates his cleavage, where the faith is sure to have oodles of fun.
And then the one lawyer in the state barges into Pete's office, where she finds Beecher. They shove their tongues down one another's throats as Katherine tells Beecher that Pete has asked her to talk to another inmate: Keller. Beecher doesn't like the idea one bit, but Katherine wants to check out the legendary Keller in the flesh. Beecher loves Katherine, but Katherine knows that Beecher also still loves Keller. Beecher, looking a little green, worries that Katherine will fall in love with the seductive Keller too. She's ready to take that risk. "Besides," she says, "I can't pass up the opportunity to meet my boyfriend's boyfriend." While reaching for "edgy and progressive," Katherine McClain has done an ungainly face-plant into "stupid."
Buzz. Scene change. Claire hands Keller a bag of contraband Atomic Fireballs; he thanks her, because he needs "a little something to suck on." Why not try Claire's dick? The flirting begins -- Claire says that Leo will have her ass if he finds out she smuggled in the candy. Keller lies, "What a nice ass it is." Ew. Driving the point home with a tit-grab. Claire tells Keller he's a bad boy; Keller says, "Spank me." Oh, just do it already. Watching Keller and Claire make dirty talk approaches the poop smoothie in terms of appeal. Thankfully, Keller's boyfriend's girlfriend arrives to break up the verbal tango. After shooing the guards away, she cuts to the chase and asks if he killed the three guys. Keller moves from raunch boy to poet philosopher as he tells Katherine that he has nothing but time and that he's not afraid to die, but wants to die for the right reason. And what would that be, Rimbaud? Love. Katherine mentions their mutual fuck buddy; Keller says that Beecher wrote to him that he loved her. She then outlines her dilemma -- if Keller dies, then he's just a memory. If he lives, he and Beecher get reunited. Keller says he knows she'll do everything she can to get him off (heh heh) since, if she loves Beecher as much as Keller does, she'll want him to be happy, and being reunited with Keller will make him happy. Well, great. Makes perfect sense -- a virtual threesome in which Katherine will be the go-between. And a case in which she'll have a completely unprofessional bias. She's smart. Which she confirms by shaking on their partnership, after Keller denies that he killed those three men.
, it's an unpleasant and gratuitous rape scene involving two guys and a girl on a playground. And that's all the description I'm prepared to offer. The rapists are frat boys Franklin Winthrop (who looks like the love child of Leif Garrett and Kids in the Hall's Bruce McCulloch) and Adam Guenzel. Sentenced to twenty-eight years, up for parole in seven. Franklin gets Unit B; Adam gets Beecher (and a host of catcalls as his new mentor leads him through Em City). When they enter the pod, Adam reveals that this will be the first time he's ever had to make his own bed, and I hate him even more than I already did. Beecher assures Adam that nothing has prepared him for life in Oz, and promises to be there for him as The Countdown To Love begins. Turns out that Adam's dad was Beecher's scoutmaster (which must mean that Adam's dad is really old). Adam tells Beecher that he and Franklin were partying with the girl they raped, that he blacked out and never meant to hurt her (he did NOT look drunk in the rape scene). Beecher reminds him that he did hurt her, and not to forget that, because his grief will keep him sane. Beecher suggests that Adam fumble through his first bed-making attempt, promising to introduce him around after he completes this mission.
Over in Unit B, Franklin faces the same music to a different tune -- an incredibly large black man walks into his cell and asks if he's ever sucked cock. Squirm. Ha. Schillinger shows up, tells the wall of man -- a.k.a. Clarence -- to back off (which he does), and asks Franklin if he's okay. "He was gonna rape me," says Franklin, pouty lips aquiver. Schillinger tells Franklin that they'll protect him from now on. "Jesus, thanks," gushes Franklin, a moment too soon, since Robson approaches and lets Franklin know in no uncertain terms (rough hands on smooth boyish face) that protection has a price, and that the price is Franklin's cherry. Robson is an excellent match for Franklin; I just hope Adam does as well, as nothing's too good for these boys.
In the cafeteria, as Beecher tells Adam The Alcoholic that he should join Pete's counseling program, Robson debuts his new girlfriend, who looks playful in pigtails, lipstick, and a shirt knotted above the belly button. Very Britney Spears Catholic schoolgirl. Adam freaks out as Robson tells Beecher that his boy's , and makes a little licky motion with his tongue. This sends Beecher straight to Said with a request for Adam's protection, which Said denies, since stabbing Schillinger and Robson put a lot of Muslims in danger, which can't happen again. "Certainly," says Said, "not over some boy who rapes and beats women." Word. Beecher starts whining about how he knew Adam as a kid, how he knows Adam's family, but Said cuts him off. No means no, which is a phrase Adam evidently doesn't understand very well. Beecher sends Adam off to McManus and protective custody until he can figure how to keep him for himself.
In an Oz true-crime moment, some guy chases another guy. The chasee starts climbing a huge boner, er, brick tower. The chaser shoots the chasee, resulting in the chasee's untimely demise. Dude, he shot Michael McDonald. Oh, and there's a Cadillac. The newbie's Frances Urbano, a.k.a. "Frank the Fixer." Sentence: life. Parole: twenty-five years.
Frank gets a few smooches from the Sicilians as Beecher watches from the laundry room, wheels slowly turning. Seconds later, he's charging into the infirmary with some lame cover as a mailman for Sister Pete. Up to Pancamo's bed. Pancamo looks like shit. Pancamo has a fever. Pancamo's as good as dead. Beecher hopes to exploit Pancamo by convincing him to protect Biff by appealing to his hatred of the Aryans. He succeeds, because Pancamo is stupid. A guard lets the entire negotiation take place before yelling Beecher out of the room. And giving him a little touch on the lower back as he exits, like guys do, to show him that he really means it. Then, maintaining his hectic social schedule, Beecher pops in for a quick basketball game with the boy wonder. They've worked up quite a lather when Robson strides in and gives Biff a little pat on the upper back, like guys do, to show him that he's about to get fucked up the ass. Robson then sniffs Biff's manly sweat, and then says, "There are two ways this could go, Precious. Kiss or kick. They both end the same, with my dick up your ass." Robson just called Biff "Precious." I heart that.
Frank the Fixer shows up with his pants hiked up around his breasts and is all, "Not necessarily," and Robson is all, "Who the fuck are you?" in this really Guido Italian accent, and I'm all, wow, I just laughed at that and this is so not a direction I need to be moving in my relationship with Robson. And then Frank attacks Robson, and the Aryans attack the Sicilians, and Beecher and Biff run for the cover of each other's arms, because they're pussies. Sister Pete should start a pussy counseling group.
It's mayhem in the infirmary. Pepa and her massive weave lock things down. Schillinger looks concerned as Frank pads into solitary. Biff tells Beecher he's terrified but pumped and goes all 'roidy, puffing around the room with an insane, bloodthirsty look. And he was so NOT drunk during the rape scene. I went to college with guys like this, and they are pure evil. He slaps the windows of the pod, and Beecher looks at his podmate as though he's discovering him for the first time. Or would like to.
Hill's Viking lesson continues: governed by a strict code of behavior, they strove for honor and valor on the battlefield, but, much like the men in Oz, had no concept of good and evil. "They couldn't tell the difference. They didn't know," says Hill, in his I'll-convey-relevance-with-the-use-of-dramatic-tone voice, "there should be one."
Ryan calls on Dr. Nathan (oh, call me Gloria. Oh, okay) to make sure she escaped recent events unscathed. She invites him in and tells him that she met Betty Buckley. He's like, "Ohmigod, girl, did you get an autograph? I love her." He tells Gloria that his real mom is so different from his pretend mom, since his real mom doesn't cry all the time. Your pretend mom sounds like fun, Ryan. But now that my real mom's here with me and Cyril BECAUSE SHE'S DOING HER COMMUNITY SERVICE HERE IN CASE EVERYONE FORGOT, says Ryan, I feel like we're a family. Gloria (oh, call me wooden. Oh, okay) asks if Ryan's told his mother about everything that happened with him and her and Cyril and her husband and Keenan and the gerbil, but he says no. Gloria, who would now clearly be in an appropriate place to worry about overstepping her bounds, tells Ryan that he has to present all of himself to his mother if he ever wants a relationship with her. Yeah, because that's exactly how families work. Ryan's afraid that his mother will stop loving him. Criminal mastermind buckles under newfound mommyboy-hood. Story at a quarter past never. Gloria says, "I don't think so. In my experience, you don't love Ryan O'Reily by choice." Whoop, cat's out of the bag. She's in control, she's never gonna stop. Ryan looks stunned.
Cyril's big, hairy face sings Old MacDonald Had A Farm. Betty Buckley fondles him as she adheres to the highly-acclaimed Lying-On-A-Mat-While-I-Press-On-You vocal training curriculum. Cyril's farmer has cars on his farm. Rusty shells on blocks, I'm willing to bet. Betty Buckley giggles up a storm as Ryan arrives and begins making fun of Cyril. They are bonding, because they are a family. Betty Buckley chides Ryan for not trying, but he surprises her by saying he's got a little "sump'in sump'in" that he might "bust out at the variety show." Oh, so now they're doing a variety show. Great. And he really did say "sump'in sump'in" without a hint of irony. Then he asks Mama if she thinks families need to be completely honest. Yes, she lies, because that is what a Good Mother would say. If she and Ryan's father had been honest and open, who knows what heights they could have reached. Ryan muses about how his life would be so different, in this dreamy voice, and even though she warns him not to romanticize things, you can see him wishing he didn't have a retarded brother. He wants to tell her some of the things he's done since he's been in Oz, and warns her that they're pretty awful. She thinks telling her may help him make sense of them himself. But what she really wants is to see his "sump'in sump'in." Which turns out to be an embarrassing breakdance number a la Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. Cyril stands on his head, and Betty Buckley claps like a seal.
Alvarez walks his dog by a table where Kenmin tells Li Chen that today is the day that the O'Reily brothers must die. "But if you can only get one, get Ryan. We can whack the tard once the older brother's dead," he says. Some long-haired stoner dude tells Ryan that he heard Li say he was going to rape his mother, which pretty much seals his fate. Ryan strides over and confronts Kenmin, who says that Li's out of control. Ryan charges up to Li and shanks him in the back; Li turns and punches Ryan; Ryan falls to the floor, and Cyril picks up where he left off, grabbing the shank and stabbing Li. The guards drag Cyril away, screaming, and then they show a body bag rolling by, so Li must be dead. McManus looks concerned as he tongue-lashes Ryan and Cyril with the help of Murphy and Pete. Ryan pleads impending mommy-rape; McManus wants proof and sends Cyril to solitary, since he's a killing machine. The hacks arrive to take Cyril away. Cyril resists mightily as Ryan calls McManus a "cocksucker." But McManus, in hard-ass drag, tells Ryan to save it, since Cyril's either headed for the insane asylum or death row. Oh, yeah, and you're off to the cage. Pete steps in to say that Ryan might be telling the truth, but McManus is all, "Ryan? Truth? As if." Cyril's solitary cell has a window. And a bed. And he's dressed. And very sorry.
In the cage, Ryan calls Kenmin over and tells him to go to McManus and tell him that Li was going to rape Betty Buckley. Kenmin refuses and says that he'll be "laughing [his] balls off" when Cyril gets executed. Judging from Kenmin's hair and voice, I think he already has. Ryan starts jumping around and yelling, because he's really mad.
Redding marches (well, in theory at least) into Leo's office and informs him that he wants control of the cafeteria. When Leo reminds him that the Sicilians control the cafeteria, Redding points out that Pancamo's still in the infirmary and that Schibetta's -- well, Schibetta's not feeling so fresh. Redding is friends with most of the guys in the cafeteria (and most of them are black). Leo recalls Adebesi's troubled tenure, but Redding counters, "I ain't Adebesi." I'll say. Leo sees that this is true, and relents. Redding's mind meld has worked. Moving full steam ahead, Redding asks Leo to get the Sicilians out of the kitchen. Consider it done, my man. Because, as the warden, I'm just here to do your bidding.
Parked in a corner, Hill hallucinates his mother calling his name, and holds his head in psychic pain. Beecher strolls by, asks Hill about the whereabouts of his dog, notices that he's crying, and embarrasses Hill by attempting to engage him in a conversation. Hill tells Beecher that he can't stop thinking of his mother rolling over in the bus, how she hated enclosed spaces and is now trapped in a bargain basement coffin. Beecher, in his infinite wisdom, starts counseling Hill (who interjects with some useless yet appropriate "Fuck yous") to let his imagination run free, to imagine the progression of his mother's decomposition -- the maggots, the rotting flesh, the bones, the dirt. Beecher acts as though he's on a moral mission from Oprah, because he knows everything and has nothing better to do than run around and mess up everyone else's life. I feel sorry for Hill, and placate myself by imagining Beecher with a railroad spike through his head -- what an intrusive asshole. Beecher continues his grief counseling assault by telling Hill that this is what he has to do to let his mother go, to move on to everything that was good about her. I discover that it's extremely difficult to type on a keyboard covered in vomit. Hill finally gets Beecher to go away, but not before he looks all offended that Hill doesn't jump up and hug him for dispensing such incredible advice. Hill expels air loudly and rolls his eyes for a moment before he rolls himself out of the corner and into Poet's pod for some white powder escapism. I hold Beecher personally responsible for what is sure to be Hill's disastrous spiral back down into the hell of addiction. Hill's eyes glaze and his head falls back as the bus rolls over again and again and again.
And Betty Buckley warbles "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot." With her eyes closed. And her voice reverberating through the cafeteria. As Slowmar looks on, rapt. At least they've assigned a different guard to these sessions -- one who can walk at a nice clip. Slowmar's worried that Betty Buckley wants him to sing like her, which I'd really love to see -- Slowmar's voice trilling in falsetto -- but Betty Buckley says she just wants him to enjoy it as much as she does. What -- the sound of her own voice? Slowmar says he does enjoy it, that the last few lessons have rocked, which, based on Betty Buckley dirge-like singing pace, I have difficulty imagining. This rockin' lesson's over, so Slowmar, after exchanging a ghetto-shake with Betty Buckley, heads back to Em City, singing all the way, until Murphy tells him to shut up, which seems like kind of a dick maneuver, since McManus's special pet has just found something that interests him, but then again I'd probably do the same thing if Slowmar sang in my vicinity. Guerra walks up and asks if Slowmar takes requests, because he'd really like to hear "Shut The Fuck Up" (a favorite tune of mine). Slowmar summons his mantra, "I will not fight," and as Guerra slams Slowmar against the wall, Said steps in and warns Guerra to leave Slowmar alone. Murphy breaks up the gathering storm; Said warns Slowmar to stay out of trouble, and Slowmar assures him that he's trying, but that Guerra accosted him. "Stop the finger-pointing, Omar," says Said. "All responsibility lies with you. And therefore on me. And I am not gonna have it." Man, those Muslims are harsh. I find finger-pointing an excellent way to avoid responsibility. Slowmar says he needs to practice, because practice will make him perfect. That I doubt. Said says to run away whenever trouble walks into the room; Slowmar worries about the effect of fleeing on his reputation, and Said tells Slowmar that the only person Slowmar's reputation matters with is the Minister himself. And stepping over whatever the line happens to be today means a quick trip back to solitary.
Cut to Said marching into McManus's office to tell him that Slowmar's doing pretty well -- staying out of trouble, staying off of drugs, whining minimally, focused on the singing. But, says Said, Slowmar's getting lots of bunk from the other guys for the singing, so he can only practice in the pod they share. And Said needs silence to pray. So, while Said wants support him, Slowmar needs somewhere else to practice. McManus tells Said that he'll do some math, and Said's looks at him like, "What the fuck are you talking about, math? Just get the jive turkey and his grating tenor out of my friggin' pod. Math, my black ass." But he just says, "Thank you," and walks out.
Ryan lying in the cage. Slowmar's voice thundering through the common area. McManus walks up to Slowmar and suggests a stroll. Slowmar's worried that he fucked up, but McManus just talks to him about the singing and how no one wants to hear it. Slowmar points out that McManus was the one who made him start, so it's grossly hypocritical of him to complain, which is dead on, but McManus just looks like he laid a silent fart and leads Slowmar to the janitorial closet that will double as Slowmar's very own private practice studio, complete with a metronome and meticulously arranged sheet music. You get one hour each day, says McManus, which inspires Slowmar to call McManus a "humdinger."
Redding, all puffed up with his cafeterial kingdom, wants to take advantage of Slowmar's unique situation with the practice room. He tells Slowmar that he's got an assignment, but Slowmar protests, telling Redding that he can't risk selling drugs right now. Redding doesn't take no for an answer, but he does take off his glasses to show that he's serious. "Here's how it's gonna work," says Redding. He'll give Slowmar the stash, Slowmar will give the stash to Reggie, and Reggie will move the stash to the mysterious Unit C. "If you've got a problem with that," croaks Redding, "then you're gonna have a bigger problem with me." So it's settled. Slowmar pockets the white package -- after holding it aloft for several easily noticeable seconds, but the guards don't see a thing. Redding tells him he better not use, and Slowmar says he actually wants to stay clean.
Practice time. Slowmar sings. Slowmar looks at the package. The metronome ticks. Slowmar sings. The door opens. In walks Reggie. Slowmar asks if Reggie is Reggie; Reggie wonders if Slowmar was expecting Destiny's Child (and I suddenly yearn for Beyonce Knowles in a women's prison movie). Slowmar, as usual, is in a chatty mood, but Reggie just wants the drugs and keeps referring to Slowmar's stupidity as he makes the handoff and leaves. Back in the very public common area, Slowmar shuffles up to Redding and hands him a wad of bills; Redding compliments Slowmar's work, and stuffs a bill in Slowmar's shirt pocket. Then it's back to his pod, where Said meditates with his eyes closed. Slowmar, still oblivious after weeks of living together, starts babbling about his day and trying to engage Said in conversation. The Minister asks Slowmar, very, very slowly, to be quiet, but Slowmar says he's just trying to wind down. Said tells him, very, very slowly, to wind down in silence. Slowmar begins to complain, but Said stands up and yells at Slowmar to leave him in peace, which he does, exiting the pod, shaking hands with Poet, and leaving Said to look exaggeratedly exasperated.
In the library, Said concentrates on a book. Ahmad and Arif approach and ask if he is preparing for tomorrow's lecture, but Said is reading Music Appreciation and Theory. Aww, that's cute. Arif and Ahmad don't think so, however, because they begin to question Said's commitment to leading the Muslims, that "Omar White is becoming too much of a distraction." Said wonders if Arif speaks for himself or others, and asks Ahmad if he feels spiritually adrift because Said attends to Slowmar. Ahmad stutters and searches for an appropriate reply, but he's let off the hook by Robson, who walks up and says, "Huey, Dewey, and Jigabooey are having a little lesson." Ahmad rushes toward Robson, pissed, but Arif places a hand on his chest as Said tells him to step back. An old woman in a pink turtleneck and pastel-hued scarf watches, having evidently made a terribly wrong turn on her way to the Junior League. Said begins to lead the Muslim walk-away, stopping for a brief staring contest with Robson, who cracks, "I hope it was something I said." Robson then explains to his cohort that one sends a message to Serengeti herd leaders by killing the youngest and the weakest; Robson's cohort then demonstrates why he does not have a larger role with a response involving wildlife shows. Robson thinks it's time to send a message.
But first we get one from Hill, about how the Vikings became civilized and morphed into the Danes, Norwegians, and Swedes. Cold countries, hot people. The lesson? "People can change if they put their collective minds to it."
Ahmad stacks boxes in a box room. When he bends to pick up a strangely spinning box, Robson and the bad actor ambush him. Now, Ahmad, what do we know about bending over in prison? Robson, after taping Ahmad's mouth as the bad actor holds his arms, expresses a concern that Ahmad might be stealing and suggests opening him up to make sure he isn't. We're then treated to a disgusting and gratuitous slashing scene (even by Oz standards) as Robson uses a razor to slice into Ahmad's chest, then all the way down his left arm, and then more across the chest, as Ahmad screams behind the tape and Robson and the bad actor cackle. The camera zooms in on Ahmad's terrified eyes as the screen fades to black.
This episode really annoyed me -- yes, because it sucked, but mainly because there was only a passing reference to Cloutier and absolutely no mention of Timmy Kirk. I mean, come on: a hideously burned, bedridden patient simply disappears, a cocksucking redhead gets stabbed with a crucifix right in front of Mukada, and no one says anything? Wouldn't Leo be freaking out maybe a little? What about McManus? Or Gloria? I mean, she just up and lost someone. Are we in the throes of a massive case of denial? Of all the preposterous things that have occurred on this show, this one might just win the medal.