A Higher Echelon

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Bring Me A Higher Love!

As Marshall sputters and hacks, SDAP instructs his men to remove the dental device and tape up Marshall's mouth. Then SDAP blabbles, " a binary compound. You have just ingested the resin. Alone, it's not toxic. But a combination with a hardener... " Okay. What. Is. With. The. Explanatory. Mouth. Torture. Like, it wasn't enough last week when Sloane put the glass ball in Sark's mouth and we were all, the hell? Only to have Sloane EXPLAIN to us just what the glass ball was and how it worked, and hey, did you know I graduated magna cum laude from the University of Talkative Torturers? Dr. No and I ran neck and neck, dude. Seriously. Goldfinger couldn't even touch us. What a pisher.

I mean it. Really. Doesn't anyone just beat the hell out of anyone anymore? A good solid electrode to the nuts isn't an appropriate torture technique? Are steel splinters beneath the fingernails just too archaic nowadays? Whatever happened to the old standby, razor-sharp hot skewers to the eyeballs? Huh? And where is it written that the torturer has to tell a fucking STORY while he's visiting agony upon his quarry? Guess what? If you're hammering someone's index finger with a MEAT TENDERIZER, you don't have to explain ANYTHING TO ANYONE. Like, enough with the elaborate torture schemes that require explanation, okay? Just cut off someone's ear and be done with it. One more sadistic torturer with diarrhea of the mouth and I'm paying a visit to the writing staff myself and showing them just how effective a Cholula enema can REALLY be. And I guarantee I won't have to EXPLAIN to them what it IS.

So, basically, if SDAP slops some other crap down Marshall's throat, the shit he already threw down there is gonna mix with the other shit and transform into a completely hard thing which will puncture all of Marshall's vital organs and block his windpipe, causing him to suffocate. See? Wouldn't a Cholula enema be much simpler?

Marshall's freaking, poor boy, even though we alllll know that there's no way in hell he's going to die. Let's face it -- this is Kevin Weisman's biggest role to date; they kill him off now and he's going to have to start shilling the Perfect Pasta Pot on Food TV. SDAP leans in as Marshall freaks and demands to know where the Echelon operating system is. And the freaking doth continue.

Welcome to The Pathetic Plot Device Diner; my name is Foolio and I'll be your Plot Propeller for today. Can I interest you in our specials? Syd and Foolio are sitting at a table. Syd's drinking coffee, and it looks like Foolio's doing the books, or writing a note to J.J. Abrams that includes the phrase, "Dude? Give Francie something to do or I'm putting those pictures of you and the production assistant at the Christmas party up on the internet NOW." Suddenly, for no reason, Foolio looks up at Sydney and goes, "What?" YOU'RE USELESS, THAT'S WHAT.

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