Hellfire. Hill. Back from Benchley Memorial and monologuing his little heart out. He's on about that road to hell/good intentions thing, which he terms a "mindfuck." Because attempts at goodness lead to damnation, why try to be good? And if good intentions lead to lots of molten lava, then where do bad ones lead? Why, to Oz, of course.
Pancamo's babbling in bed, delirious from his worsening staph infection. Glenn "Stumpy" Shupe asks Gloria, sporting a base make-up that's at least two shades too dark and makes her face look like pantyhose, to shut him up. Instead, she decides that Shupe can head back to Em City and that Pancamo needs more drugs.
McManus walks in, makes an unwelcome funny about Pancamo, and asks to see Hill, who's in a private room since he's still in bad shape, even though he's finished whatever he was up to last week and has returned to Oz. Hill, who looks about as good as he's supposed to feel, denies that he was trying to kill himself, but McManus takes him through the heroin/catheter sloppiness/renal failure details, in case Hill's fuzzy about exactly what led to the tube in his nose, and asserts that yes indeedy, Hill was at least subconsciously hell-bent on suicide.
Seems the ladies in Hill's life -- or, more specifically, their exit -- led him to the brink. After his mother's death and his wife's desertion, "the walls in Oz got too high, too thick." McManus really couldn't care less, since he's consumed by his own vendetta and was just being polite. He really wants to know who gave Hill the drugs; Hill maintains that the source doesn't matter, since, he says, "What I did I did." But that's not good enough for McManus, who uses DeSanto's perma-trip to convince Hill to snitch. As if Hill doesn't have other, more pressing things to worry about. But, this being the free world's capital of melodrama, Hill musters the appropriate indignation, says that DeSanto was not his dealer, and asks to speak to Redding. McManus refuses, saying, "You got a message for Burr Redding, I'm your AT&T." Oooooooh, nanny nanny. McManus really should give classes in firm, witty rejoinders.
Whoosh! Smart Boy McManus runs straight to Redding to tell him that DeSanto didn't sell Hill the drugs, and reiterates his refusal to let Hill and Redding meet. Shazam! Redding runs down the stairs, past an inquisitive Poet, and demands to see Busmalis. Vroom! Redding drags Busmalis into a pod, slams him against the wall, and asks why he lied. Poet muscles in and encourages Busmalis (with some amusing nods and wide-eyed looks) to admit that he's covering for Guerra, who was, perhaps, the one that sold Hill the drugs. I'm giddy with the rich irony of the prison's leading drug dealer trying to ferret out…a drug dealer. Kerplooey! Redding orchestrates a meeting with Morales, who denies that Guerra supplied the offending substance. Redding calls Morales a liar, Morales advises Redding not to screw up the chocolaty goodness of their pact, Redding jumps Morales, McManus, watching from afar, lunges for his trusty phone, and both Redding and Morales end up, naked and jiggly, in the hole. A small thanks to the director for sparing us the trauma of full frontals from either man. The copious man-boobs were plenty.
Hill again, in front of two mannequins seated at a table. John and Jane Doe, we'll call them, since Hill does. They "go on a diet, eat better, get healthy, live longer." Good, yah? No. Bad. The stress John experiences while trying to lower his cholesterol will kill him. And while Jane eats low-fat, she's jacking up her blood sugar, since those pseudo-healthy products are loaded with sugar to mask their foul taste. Oops. See Jane suffer adult-onset diabetes. Bottled water's . Now, asks Hill, "What the fuck could be wrong with that?" One word: plastics. So, reveals Hill -- going all John Edward as he zooms over some celestial backdrop in a crystal ball -- as we seal ourselves in a bubble of health, we're actually killing ourselves and destroying the planet.
But ohmigod, Susie, like, who cares about the planet, because we are, like, so thin.
Ryan, bathed in light, stands at the bars, wondering about the world beyond the walls. The Greek chorus -- a.k.a. Beecher and Busmalis, The Laundry Shrews -- reveals that today's the day that the jury decides Cyril's fate. Father Salty O'Brogue wants to know what's going on; Ryan says the jury may deliberate for a while, wishes he was in solitary with Cyril, and worries that Cyril is scared and confused. "Good," says Salty. Ryan looks both confused and pissed, but then the wise man of The Guy Upstairs, all pale and liquored-looking, explains that the stupider that Cyril appears, the better the chances for overturning a guilty verdict. Now Ryan's just confused. Crusty McPriest explains that he's not going let Cyril fry without a fight. Now Ryan's just pissed, and tells Reverend Piss-and-Vinegar and his God to fuck right off and mind their own business.
"Linebacker" Howell charges up to Ryan, in full cafeteria drag, and tells him that the jury's in. Ryan then charges into the all-purpose neutral-toned meeting room to find Pete, Katherine, and Cyril wearing somber, nervous expressions. When Pete rises and expresses her condolences, I pop the cork on a bottle of bubbly and celebrate Cyril's impending demise. Ryan pulls up a chair and sits down to Cyril, who forces him to kiss Jericho The Stinky Sock Puppet (who's apparently not lived up to his potential to transform Cyril into an idiot savant). Katherine assures Ryan that she'll plead for clemency, but he waggles an "oh no you don't sister" finger. Pete voices confusion, but Ryan says, "No appeals, no clemency," and then tells the ladies to scoot. Cyril wonders if there's a problem, but Ryan assures him it's just the opposite -- "You're getting out of here, kid," says Ryan, as he envelops his brother in a hug. "You're gonna be free." And so will I, in just one week.
Betty Buckley disagrees with Ryan's decision not to appeal. Ryan explains that, until now, their lives have sucked, and a lifetime in Oz sucks even worse, and that an eternity of nothing beats life on this set, with this crappy script, and you playing my mother. You must live all your days with this decision, Luke, says B.Bu, apparently not reading that Ryan's just pretty much said that he should probably commit suicide himself. So it's no surprise when he says that he can deal. Betty thinks otherwise, because she knows him. Ryan flares up and asks, "You think you know me?" But you have no idea. And then he really lets her have it, as she sits all stoic. She calls after him as he scoots his break-dancing ass offstage, wearing a boss purple jersey, but he's madder than hell and not gonna take it anymore.
The Coalition To Do What's Right Without Concern For The Opinions Of The Actual Individuals Involved convenes its first meeting, with Salty declaring that Cyril's case must be won in the food court of public opinion as Pete, Betty Buckley, and The Lone Lawyer listen, rapt. Earnestness. Repellent. Katherine pipes up that the Supreme Court said that killing the retarded is fine, since they're different than we are. Salty climbs higher on his pedestal and enthuses, from behind eyebrow shrubbery, that they must prove that even the most death-mongering Americans want to spare the dim. Uh, yeah, good luck. Betty gets excited about the thought of arousing the media, and then Salty mobilizes Pete with orders to put out a press release about the nuances of Cyril's noggin and Katherine gets all self-righteous about her shoddy work. Betty wonders if they can really do it; Salty says something trite and pat about the Lord and the Law, and Pete falls completely under the spell of Salty's can-do bravado.
After mocking Shupe, Ryan is approached by Guerra, who wants to know why Kenmin still vogues in the corner, since they had a deal. Ryan assures them that his criminal mastermind is clicking away, and that he'll get someone that the COs can't blame to do the job. The COs themselves. Dun dun dun!
Gym. Ryan. Kenmin. Interpretive movement. The Lord Of The Dance torments Ryan with details of his testimony against Cyril. Ryan crouches, waiting for his moment, which arrives when a CO walks into the room. Ryan lunges, feebly, and Kenmin grabs him in a headlock as Salty watches from the basketball court. In a complete departure from the norm, the CO races over to break up the fight, smacking Kenmin in the back. Kenmin turns and goes martial on the CO, kicking the club out of his hands and punching him in the face. He kicks another CO in the chest as Ryan picks up the club and proceeds to beat the shit out of Kenmin. A seamless operation. Like Ryan could have planned exactly how those events would unfold. Lucky for him, Kenmin is stunningly stupid. But Salty knows the truth.
Gloria tends to Ryan and reveals that she has no idea about Kenmin's condition, as the hacks threw him directly into solitary. Ryan thinks that the world would be better if Kenmin went into another coma. Gloria doesn't disagree. While escorting Ryan back to Em City, the guard thanks him for what he did, confirming that Ryan's gotten away with it. He's duped them all! Ryan further stokes the fire by defaming Kenmin to the CO, who confides that Kenmin's got a lesson to learn. The guard heads straight for Kenmin's solitary cell to drop some science, which he and a few pals do via taunts, mace, and a thorough beating.
At bedtime, Salty wonders if Ryan's happy about exacting revenge on Kenmin; Ryan plays the victim, but Salty's seen right through the charade to the heart of the matter. Tubby McSalt, who reminds me unpleasantly of Mickey Rooney (as any reminder of Mickey Rooney is unpleasant), wants to know if the cross Ryan wears means anything, or if it's merely a "bauble." "What happened to you when you were a child?" he asks. "What made you walk away from the church?" Ryan explains that he actually ran, as he went to his pastor to complain about paternal beatings, and the pastor told him he deserved it and that he should head home and Honor Thy Father. Salty's all shocked, although that sounds pretty church-like to me, and tries to explain it away with the "bad priest" argument, failing to get the hint that someone who's been completely fucked over by an organization might be better off without it and getting all emphatic about being there for Ryan. "Too fucking late," says Ryan.
John and Jane Doe, "both looking slim and sexy," says Hill, decide to get married, so John drops bank on a diamond red with the blood of Africans, and then they start spawning, contributing to the world's vermin-like overpopulation. Suddenly, says Hill, "My cell don't seem so cramped."
Julie and Alvarez, together in bed. Alvarez loves Julie in a way he hasn't loved anyone since his kid died. I wrench my mind from the gutter. Penders wonders if Alvarez has ever seen a dogfight, but Alvarez says no. Cockfight yes, dogs no. Penders starts talking about dogs ripping each other apart until Alvarez goes all girly animal-lover and tells him to stop. As they leave the pod for the common area, a CO confronts them about some chocolate pudding on the floor. After maintaining that Guerra is the floor-pooping party, Penders gets huffy when the CO tells him to clean it up. One thing leads to another, and soon the CO's got Penders on the floor, and proceeds to smear Penders's face in the dookie. Which has to be one of the grossest things I've seen lately. Suddenly, Penders yells, "Chester, now," and Chester jumps the CO, which makes the fake blood packs in the CO's collar explode, as everyone in the room, including Penders with his Mr. Hanky kiss, hoots with approval. Penders does not pass Go on his way to solitary.
Miss Dog stands over a blindfolded Alvarez and says that Penders's decision to teach Chester to attack puts "a shadow over the whole program." She and Salty can swap platitudes. Like no one noticed Penders teaching a dog to attack. A dog that's probably been put down by now. Julie leads Alvarez up the stairs to Miss Dog and finishes Man's Best Friend with flying colors. Alvarez wishes he could see the person Julie will belong to. Because this is television, he can. And, because this is television, it's Rivera, who enters, removes his sunglasses so everyone (except him) can see his mangled eyes, and explains that he's taking Julie both for himself and for the wife that he, as a blind man, loves and cherishes. This pleases Alvarez, as he custom-trained Julie for Rivera -- after Miss Dog and McManus look alarmed at the thought that Julie might also know how to attack, everyone shares a laugh when they discover that Alvarez has also trained Julie to obey commands in Spanish. The genuine niceness of this moment is compromised only by McManus's all-too-familiar smug, self-satisfied look.
Leo justifies the look by complimenting McManus on both the music and dog-training programs. Ellie, panties wet, seconds the praise. McManus, of course, makes a speech and thanks the fans. Ellie flirts some more and then jumps up to leave, calling McManus "Timmy"; Leo ribs McManus about a "liaison with the state liaison," and also calls him Timmy. Timmy plays dumb, fails to protest, and leaves the room as well. That scene made my tummy feel funny.
The 51 ball. Dave Brass. Uh-oh -- it's Rebadow. Cursing to McManus and Busmalis about his luck about the lottery money and cursing Dave Brass for killing his grandson, which falls right into line with the overwrought melodrama of this entire tired plotline. With no legal recourse, Rebadow's only hope is finding a suitable bone marrow donor for Little Alex. And that pesky mixed racial heritage makes it so danged hard -- the first in tonight's PSAs advocating racial purity! Rebadow splutters about the problem with finding a donor being that no one's looking, so "I Love A Lost Cause" McManus agrees to scour the Oz files for a potential match.
In the infirmary, Murphy offers to help Father Martinez of Lourdes find a better home than solitary if he'll sell the story of his decision to facial Brass. Murphy thinks he's got a reason, but Martinez won't talk. Murphy reminds Martinez that the cocktail incident hasn't made him any friends among the COs, and wrenches Martinez's head to the side and makes thinly veiled threats to drive home his point. And then he's off to McManus for a status report on Operation Break Martinez. See, Murphy's pretty sure there's a cocktail conspiracy, and he's pretty sure that Morales pulls the strings. McManus, having decided that Dave Brass equals nothing since he scampered off with the money, cares only for Rebadow, so it's with pure joy that he just happens, at this precise moment, to discover a prisoner -- right under their noses the whole time, wouldn't ya know! -- who's the perfect ethnic match for Le Petit Alex.
Some Unit C Rasta with white pappy, half West Indian/half Guatemalan mama. Imagine! McManus explains that Rebadow just has to convince the guy to donate, so Rebadow asks if he can talk to him. Alone. No, dumb-ass, you have to send smoke signals. Rebadow explains the whole fucking situation to the Rasta, who's working his Jamaican 101 accent. When Rebadow asks for the bone marrow donation, Rasta flips, asserting in no uncertain terms (and quite correctly, I think) that McManus the Meddler has no right to share that information, and that all of Unit C thinks him a black man to the core, and that if they find out his pops was a cracker, he's toast. When Rasta gets up to leave, Rebadow protests and reaches for his shoulder, provoking a well-earned punch that sends him pinwheeling into a chair. Maybe they'll have to wire his jaw shut and he won't be able to talk anymore.
No such luck. In his cell that night, Rebadow apologizes to Alex for the tacky photograph of him he's got to the sink, and sits down on his bed, where his suddenly skyward eyes signify another urgent message from heaven. This message, he tells Pete the day, is that faith is the missing element in Alex's healing. He wants a faith healer who can lay some hands on Alex and flush out the leukemia, like it's a particularly difficult hair clog or something. Pete expresses her opinion that faith healers are conniving shysters but that a nice interaction might cure the boy, but Rebadow gives her a sanctimonious speech about faith versus religion and exclusion and belonging and why he's right and she's stupid. "I don't want to belong," says Rebadow, "I just want to believe," and the world groans in pain. Then Rebadow claims that he's "an arrow in God's bow," and leaves Pete looking confused by this overblown twerp who looks like some nice guy by the name of Rebadow that she once knew.
Ben Vereen, a.k.a. The Stock Black Guy Who Speaks Vaguely And Spooks Whitey Before Revealing Deeper Spiritual Wisdom, clues Rebadow into an x-ray-vision-enabled healer named Virginia who helped him deal with a spinal problem and who can do really amazing things with her hands. ["Anyone else think it's a weird coincidence that one of Vereen's most famous roles is Judas Iscariot in Jesus Christ Superstar? Okay, it's just me. Carry on." -- Sars]
While Ben Vereen and Rebadow may be open to faith healing, The White Woman In The Visiting Area seems relatively shuttered to the option. I'm guessing she's Rebadow's daughter; there's no doubting the fact that she's opposed. She doesn't want to give the kid hope, but Rebadow's adamant -- and patronizing. So adamant that he gets up and starts cussing his daughter out and railing against the modern disrespect for faith healers. He actually says, "Bull fucking shit," and then says that he'll find someone else to visit Regina -- oh, I guess that's the faith healer's name, but The White Woman Who's Probably His Daughter says that no one in the family will go for his latest wacky scheme. As she gets up to leave, she says, "You know what I see, I see a man trying to redeem himself in the eyes of his family, making a last-ditch effort after decades of absence. See, sometimes I have x-ray vision too." Damn. She's giving McManus a run for his rejoinder money. Back in his cell, Rebadow excoriates the Lord for being a tease, gets up, places his middle finger over the mouth of Little Alex, and tells his reflection to be healed.
Flashback to the Fatima Fire news story and the announcement of Mukada's defection to Benchley Memorial. Leo's telling Big Clarence that he's headed to solitary, where the blowjobs will be few and far between. To avoid solitary, Clarence offers intelligence about the origin of the burn order, and Leo apparently agrees to negotiate, as he's listening to Kirk plead innocence in the very scene. Leo points out that Kirk calls lots of people liars, as Kirk grows increasingly smug because Leo has no hard evidence. Then Leo switches into Intimidating Cop mode and reminds Kirk that Mukada is a good friend of his, that he was besting prisoners when Kirk was nothing but a zygote, and that he'll get him sooner or later. Leo stomps out, leaving Kirk looking a bit shaken.
Leo explains the situation to Hoyt, who claims that there's not much point in lying when on death row and agrees to find another inmate to corroborate his story about Kirk's role in Jim Burns's death. Back in the admin offices, Kirk waits outside Leo's door. An inmate walks out and gives Kirk a knowing smile. Leo follows, announces that Kirk's being charged with the murder of Jim Burns, as Max has just verified Hoyt's story, and instructs a guard to take Kirk to solitary until the trial begins: Death Row, Murder One. Kirk starts to grovel, stripped suddenly of his evil demeanor and most apologetic for being a bad, bad boy, as Leo quotes some forbidding lines of gospel and a guard drags the wicked little redhead to his fate.
In a staff meeting, Leo announces that Mukada will be leaving Benchley Memorial and should be right as rain, although they're not sure when he'll be returning to work. After wrapping up the meeting -- and tying up that narrative thread with a nice tidy bow -- Leo confronts Sister Pete about her silent treatment since their recent "rape is a great leveler" Peter Schibetta conversation. Pete explains that, while she's glad Leo didn't resign, she thinks he's become "intransigent" and refuses to have hope -- beyond anal entry -- for anyone once he's decided that he doesn't like him. Pete, however, chooses to remain forever suspended in a state of deluded optimism.
And things segue smoothly into the Duchy of Schibetta. He's thanking Pete for arranging the conversation and hand-holding with Gloria, because it helped a lot, and they're heading out soon to take back the night. Schibetta wants to know what's , but balks when Pete suggests a session with his wife or an interaction with his paramours -- since he's not going to tattle. Schibetta -- and the actor who plays him -- has amazing eyelashes. Pete wants to know why he wants to protect the men who raped him, but Schibetta says he's not protecting them, which she interprets as an admission of plans for revenge; he tells her to let it go. So she does. Then she asks about his relationship with Leo, and gleans from his suddenly serious and focused expression that there is bad blood, but he again tells her to let it go. So she does, signifying that they've gotten absolutely nowhere in this conversation. And then it's a particularly gloomy "This Is Your Life" moment for Schibetta as he passes Leo, then Schillinger, in the hall. I giggle when Schillinger says, "Nice ass," and ask again -- why are the Aryans the witty ones?
With the bestest of intentions, John and Jane Doe raise the chalk-white fruit of their loins to appreciate and respect the differences of other people and other cultures, as long as they're not retarded. But, wonders Hill, flanked by mannequins sporting a panoply of authentic ethnic costumes and sounding like one of the questions in those ethical parlor games, might this emphasis on difference actually promote separatism and a lack of consciousness about the things we all have in common? Discuss amongst yourselves.
Robson, in his cell, at first apparently sucking a drink through a straw but then actually spitting blood into a cup, which grosses me out even more then the various shit masques of late. Schillinger walks in, Franklin and Adam (now dolled up with lipstick and a bouffant -- I am so loving this) in tow, and inquires about Robson's welfare. The drugged-out stupor is bad enough, says Vern, but now I'm all worried about my gums. Yeah, and the constant dribble of blood is just a wee bit disgusting. Robson tells the prags to skedaddle and then expresses his own concerns to Schillinger -- those gums could have come from anyone, he says, as Vern casts an alarmed glance toward the Nubians in the common area, and he's been worried ever since Feradj began taunting him during the surgery. As Robson gets agitated, he shows more and more of his nausea-inducing gums, which look like they've been stained with a particularly virulent strain of Kool-Aid. Vern wants to know if the gums are at least the right color -- not, hopefully, the indigo gums found throughout Asia, or the green ones in Australia -- and asks if Robson's been to see Dr. Feradj to clear things up, since he was so helpful before. See what happens when you tease a dentist? Then Robson asks Vern not to tell anyone about his dental dilemma; Vern flaps his arms like a turkey and stalks out of the room. Robson stands and looks in the mirror, a trickle of blood inching down the middle of his swollen chin.
Now Vern's chatting with a brotherhood leader on the windowphone. Big Brother's cranky, because he drove all the way to Oz for an issue that he's quickly discovering could have been dealt with over the non-face-to-face kind of phone. After verifying that Vern's fishing for specifics about how Robson's new gums might affect his status with the Bitter Whiteys, Big Brother challenges Vern to answer his own questions about purity and reveals that he never liked Robson, believing as he does that Robson joined the select group of the enlightened brethren "more out of identity crisis than true faith." Oh, who wants to quibble about reasons -- just join the Aryans today. It's the right thing to do. Big Brother expresses concern over Vern's potentially wavering convictions, makes some ominous and loaded comment about Robson and Schillinger's closeness, and exhorts him to recall that "a little Levin leavens the whole loaf." So, wait -- Robson's gums are Jewish?
In the teacher's lounge, a CO asks Feradj about Robson -- seems Robson was agitating for a copy of his dental records, and the CO's wondering if there's anything brewing between the two, especially since, come to think of it, Feradj looks a little anxious himself. Anxious indeed. Feradj marches straight into Leo's office -- leaving a cup of coffee steaming on the table! -- to announce that he's quitting, which sends Leo into apoplexy. Despite Leo's protestations, Feradj stands firm that, while he'll finish his shift, today's his last day. Striding out past Poet (and Leo's perky-assistant-free antechamber), Feradj gets an idea, and hands a scribbled note and some cash money to Poet with instructions to spread the news but protect the source. Poet reads the note and giggles.
In the lunch line, Robson, slightly less swollen and bloody, tells a reticent Schillinger that he's gonna see Feradj and straighten things out, as Poet and Ryan eagerly await his approach. When Robson asks for soup only, Poet wonders if he doesn't "want some chitlins and gravy to go with that." Robson, looking genuinely frightened, asks what they're talking about; Ryan bangs on a tray and yells, to the entire cafeteria, "Robson here went to the dentist and got himself a nice pair of dirty ghetto gums!" I join the cafeteria crowd in a round of guffaws -- even Said cracks a smile. Robson gets upset with Vern for blabbing, but Vern claims innocence, and then calls Poet a nigger; Poet wonders aloud if Robson will stand by and let a brother be treated so callously, and I laugh again. Robson, completely freaked now, runs over and tells Claire that he needs to go see Dr. Feradj, who's packing up his belongings like a guy in a mighty big hurry.
Not fast enough. Robson walks into Feradj's office -- completely unattended, of course, as Claire's presumably run off to root for booty -- shuts the door, slams Feradj against the wall, and grabs a scalpel as he demands to know the ethnic origin of his fancy new gums. Feradj whimpers about his wife and children, which goes nowhere toward answering Robson's questions, and then swears that the gums came from an upstanding honky. Robson wants proof, and orders Feradj to call someone for it. Oh, I'll need my address book, says Feradj, and it's over there, and while you kindly turn around to get it, I'll pick up this phone and bash you right in the jaw, causing so much pain that you'll collapse to the floor, unable to retaliate as I hiss that your gums came from a decidedly non-white place and call an officer. Then I'll claim you attacked me and leave, as the officer delivers further blows to the sensitive mouth area. Then you'll be dragged, screaming, naked, bloody, and looking like pure ass, into the hole as Vern solemnly announces that, despite his esteem for you, Satan has scored a coup and you can no longer be a member of the brotherhood. Bye!
Claire beats Keller in an edgy color palette. Sister Pete visits a bandaged Keller in the infirmary -- they should hang a "Welcome Home Prisoners" banner, as Benchley seems to be suffering a mass exodus of patients. Sounds like Keller's lost hearing in his left ear. Get it? Sounds like? See what this show's done to me? I need help, I tell you. They exchange small talk; Keller thinks he's going to lose his case, and oh, by the way, "Do you think Jesus was a fag?" I mean, the long hair, the dress, the sandals…Pete thinks Keller's trying to provoke and mock her, but he claims seriousness. He's "looking for a role model." Hey, dude, try Posh Spice -- Jesus, Schmesus; Posh is the real authority on spiritual conundrums and world politics. Just ask MTV. Keller wonders, since the Son of God was both human and divine, if the crunchy divine part of Jesus helped control the frosted human part. The part that craved ass. Keller's curious, since he went through life shoving his cock into "any cavity that was open and available" (that's tasty -- thanks so much for the rapid succession of off-putting yet funny mental images). Keller goes on about his life, and Pete looks like she's taking him seriously, which I'm certainly not, so let's just move on, shall we?
In the cafeteria, Beecher looks longingly at Adam as Schillinger fusses with his new conquest's moussed-up hair. Said sees Beecher's concerned face and is drawn to emotional pain like a moth to the flame. He ascertains the sincerity of Beecher's guilt over handing Adam over to the Aryans -- heartless rape and homophobic attack notwithstanding, Beecher claims that his decision was driven by carnal desire. Said agrees, and criticizes Beecher for succumbing to his own appetites. Oh, whatever. Adam richly deserved what he got -- not to mention that the mascara really brings out his eyes, so cut the self-pity crap, ladies. But Beecher goes on about his feelings of responsibility, regret underscored by an excessively quick-cut flashback to Beecher's discovery of a post-rape Adam in the gym, naked, cowering, and looking like the star of a Calvin Klein perfume ad. Said, predictably latching on to self-denial as the path toward redemption, explains to Beecher that he must repent by never allowing himself to see Keller. Ever. Well, gosh, says Beecher, okay. You're so somber that you must be right.
So Beecher heads to McManus and asks to be transferred to another work detail. McManus explodes, annoyed with Beecher for asking for a change so soon after begging for mail duty. Mail just doesn't allow me to maximize my innate gift for maudlin self-pity, explains Beecher, but McManus isn't buying, especially after Beecher eagerly jumps at the only available slot -- in the dress factory. Uh, where they do what? Manufacture Gunne Sax? Kathie Lee Gifford's line, now that child labor's no longer trendy? Whatever. McManus tells Beecher, loudly, that he's stuck with mail until he can come up with a good reason to switch jobs. So, Beecher toddles off to deliver some more mail and immediately violates his self-imposed Keller boycott by gazing at Keller through a window in the infirmary as he induces a nurse to nod methodically.
it's off to Sister Pete's, where Beecher meets his replacement, the grizzly old sheriff from Unit B. Alvin Something. In a crushing blow to Beecher's manhood, Alvin Something calls him "a dolt" for relinquishing the Pete gig. Beecher wants to leave a note and to request that she call a meeting with Adam. "For what?" wonders Alvin. "She'll know when she sees him," says Beecher. Since the stench and stain of Adam's rape will be visible to all who encounter him. Alvin "Chicken Soup For The Soul" Something tells Beecher not to take any wooden nickels. Oh, fuck you, Grandpa.
Franklin approaches Adam to apologize for letting the Aryans rape him. Uh, okay, Franklin, since it was all on your say-so. Whatever gets you through the day, girl. They look like they should be wearing poodle skirts and discussing prom. Adam, all perky like Mary Lou Retton with dainty hair clippies, concurs that Oz will indeed fuck with one's head. Franklin claims that they've got to stick together to survive as Pepa shows up and tells Adam that Pete's just granted him an audience. As Adam heads for the convent, Schillinger warns him not to discuss his intimate details with Pete, and to clean off that fucking make-up because you are not leaving this house looking like a floozy.
Adam, freshly-scrubbed, stands in front of Pete and refuses to crack. She tries another route, asking about his relationship with Beecher. Ain't got one, he says. When she explains that Beecher suggested this meeting and cares deeply about him, Adam calls him a "lying cocksucker." That's rather apt, actually. Pete wants to know why Adam thinks Beecher's a liar, but Adam tells her to ask the liar, which is probably not a good idea, since a liar lies, which must drive Sister Nosy mad.
She takes her vexation to the interaction with Beecher, Schillinger, and Said, and tries to get them to talk about Adam. Might they know anything about why he's changed so much since his first days at Oz so very long ago? Nope, says Beecher. Nada, says Schillinger. Negatory, says Said. Pete, now at her wits' end from being kept out of the inner circle, warns that she's not gonna let this one go -- she'll prod and poke Adam until he gives her all the romantic details, so that she can write them down and send them to Inches -- before huffing that she's "sick of sitting in the same room with you" and storming from the room. I'll give that one two snaps and a rosary, girlfriend.
Back in Unit B, Schillinger opines that Adam's becoming dangerous. He and his new sidekick summon Adam and tell him they'll help him escape. Then McManus marches up to Beecher and announces that Adam's dead. Oh, that's lame to an epic degree. Seems he got electrocuted during an escape attempt. So I guess Schillinger wasn't really going to help Adam escape. Silly me. Beecher looks stricken, and then he looks at Said, who looks accusing, and then we do see Adam, still hanging limp on the fence. Then Schillinger's new sidekick (oh, crap, it's the bad actor from the Ahmad-slashing episode) does an imitation of Adam hanging from the fence, to scattered laughs and low-key merriment. Franklin looks dazed as Pete closes Adam's psychiatric folder, a resigned look on her face as she perhaps contemplates how her prying has led to yet another senseless (and annoying, and off-camera) death.
Hill closes with a warning: Be careful about embarking on the road of good intentions, because good can go bad "in the blink of a fucking eye." I agree, bro -- it's a dead-on description of this show, although Hill's monologues this week were way better than they've been all season. Now I gotta get this thing in so it can go up before the fast-approaching sure-to-be-a-nailbiter-not season finale. Later.