Elsewhere, here's all I'm going to say about the Commodore and his gastrointestinal issues: the Commodore has some SERIOUS gastrointestinal issues. He berates his poor housekeeper Louanne again, this time about some homemade potion she's making for him (because he refuses to see doctors). While he's complaining about his bowels, he's also complaining about Nucky, who merely sent an errand boy over with the 'Dore's payment, rather than bringing it himself. Nucky, he feels, is getting too big for his britches. And/or the Commodore is feeling resentful in his old age. He bitches about having put Nucky where he is today, "and they put me in jail." That does go a bit of the way towards explaining the Commodore's place in the whole Atlantic City hierarchy. He felt the fuzz coming down, he installed Nucky in his place while he went to jail, and upon his return he's kind of a kingpin emeritus. And a resentful old bastard, it seems. Louanne hands him the potion -- a dark green mixture of awfulness -- and Commodore barely gulps it down before he's on all fours, puking into a spittoon on the floor, like a dog. Well, this is undignified to watch.
Keeping with the theme, however, we cut to Nucky reading a cutesy (but educational!) poem about germs and such that make you sick. The kids applaud, as do Margaret, then ask to be excused from the dinner table. Once they're gone, Margaret takes a regretful tone and tells Nucky she took some "bad advice" the other day. When Nucky began to tell her his "troubles." "It was selfish," she says, and while Nucky says it's all right, he's still clipped and stung about the whole thing. Margaret says it's not right -- she wants him to feel like he can tell her things. So Nucky returns to the subject of that baseball mitt: four older kids stole it from him, and when Nucky came home, his father made him go back out and challenge the bullies to a fight. He did, and was promptly beaten unconscious and put in the hospital for eleven days. Margaret recoils, says that's horrible. "Life can be that way," is Nucky's response. The phone then rings -- it's about the house, it's all ready for Fleming. Nucky invites Margaret to come down with him to see it, but she can't. Little Teddy asks if he can go, and while Margaret says "Mr. Thompson" is busy, Nucky says that "Uncle Nucky" can surely take him. I'd be happier with "Uncle Nucky" as a nickname if it didn't sound so filthy.
Well! Remember Liam? He's back in his usual table, at his usual diner. Only this time, Jimmy Darmody is sitting at the counter. Liam doesn't notice until Jimmy's about to sit down across for him. Jimmy orders him to keep his hands where he can see them. Jimmy's even-toned, though, and pledges that he's not there to kill Liam. All this despite the fact that Liam's promise that he was just doing Sheridan's bidding starts with him referencing Pearl as "the whore." Anyway, Jimmy asks if Liam ever served in the army (he didn't), which leads to Jimmy telling a story about the War. It was a "living, waking nightmare," he says. One time, Jimmy shot a German soldier while he was trying to cross some barbed wire. The guy didn't die, but he also couldn't manage to extricate himself from the fence. No matter how much he struggled, he only dug in deeper. Jimmy says he left him there for days, moaning in German for his momma. He never begged for death, though, despite Jimmy's repeated offers. He kept fighting, like a miracle might come. "Some people, in a similar situation," says Jimmy, "might feel like being alive is much, much worse." This seems the appropriate note to leave Liam on. Jimmy says he doesn't ever want to see Liam around again. Liam can't assure him fast enough that he won't. Jimmy leaves, and Liam can finally exhale. It proves to be his last, however, when a bullet whizzes through the window, shattering a water pitcher atop a waiter's tray, and connecting right below Liam's right eye. He's dead, a customer screams, and as the camera races back through the bullet-hole, up to the upstairs room across the street, we see -- obviously -- Richard Harrow. And then, in maybe my favorite moment of the show thus far, we hear sinister organ music, because the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind. Harrow packs up his rifle and leaves the room, but hopefully not the show, because: awesome.