Rita's watching the news when Astor comes out of her bedroom silently. "Honey, what is it?" Rita asks, but Astor quietly turns around and walks back. Oh, sad! She wet the bed. Rita tells her it's okay, "these things happen. Now go get changed and I'll fix the bed." As Rita begins doing so, Astor asks, "Mommy? Is it okay if I didn't have my party?" Oh, dude, no way! Rita looks crestfallen at this.
Abruptly, we're with Dexter, who is packing up all of his murdering devices and wrapping them in plastic and duct tape. "It's only a matter of time before that boy finishes telling the police who he saw that night at the salvage yard. Me." Dexter, now on the Slice of Life, starts chucking bag after bag of instruments into the ocean. "Once the sketch is finished there'll be no place left to hide. If I want any chance of survival, I have to get rid of it all. I have to let go." He reluctantly throws the power drill over the edge, leaving only his Box O' Kills, the collection of blood slides from all of his years of work, which he holds and ponders for a while. He opens it up, and runs his fingers over the glass, cherishing it. He picks one at random. "Alex Timmons -- sniper." He flashes back to Mr. Timmons, wrapped up in plastic. "Yes, I did it," he says. "Is that what you wanna hear?" Back to the present, and another slide. "Gene Marshall -- arsonist." Flash to Gene, also wrapped up. "Have you ever watched someone burn alive?" Another slide. "Cindy Landon -- Black Widow." "I'll fuck you if you let me go." "Such fond memories of them all," Dex VOs. "They all accepted their fate in their own way. Now it's time for me to do the same." He holds up one more slide, saying "Valerie Castillo, my last victim." He notices something wrong and pulls out his flashlight to see that the blood circles has a smiley face carved into it, just like the palm tree in the landfill picture and the one on the back of the photo of Dex and Harry at Angel of Mercy. This Ice Truck Killer fellow is a slick fish, I'll tell you that much right now. "He's not angry. That's not what this is about. He's testing me."
Back at home, Dexter is scraping half of the blood from the slide, continuing, "I was wrong the whole time. My playmate saw an opportunity to paint me into a corner to see if I'd find my way out, if I'd fight to survive." Having scraped sufficiently, Dexter reaches for the scotch tape, grabs a piece, and puts it on the slide. "If you have a well-preserved sample, transferring a dried drop of blood is relatively easy." He takes the bloody tape and applies it to a knife that's sitting next to his paperwork. "Almost as easy as it was lifting Jorge Castillo's fingerprints from his boat and putting them on this knife."