Later on, Keller is moping in his cell when Schillinger stops by for a nice little chat. After reminiscing a bit about their days together in another prison ("You protected me. I sucked your cock," says Keller), Vern makes an offer of renewed friendship. "Now that [Beecher] is done," he says, "I'm saying let's be friends again. No cock-sucking. Just two guys looking out for each other." Aww. Male bonding always leaves me a little teary. Sniff. And while we're on the subject, I've got to say that Schillinger's near-total silence this season is nothing short of criminal. He's easily the best character on the show, and my love for J.K. Simmons is rapidly beginning to approach Season Three Furio levels of girlishness. Of course, this doesn't mean I want to see Vern in a pair of red satin bikini briefs or anything, but it would be nice if he occasionally got a few extra lines every now and then. After a mental blipvert of "Operation Toby" images, Keller finally agrees to bury the hatchet. The look on his face, however, suggests that Vern's back might just be where he decides to do it. Dun dun DUN!
And that's it for the big Beecher/Keller storyline this week, because here comes Dino to tell us that cancer is the second leading cause of death, and also "the scariest word in the English language." Oh, I beg to differ, my crispy-fried young friend. What about "neck-string"? Or "radiological dispersion device"? Or even "HoYay," for that matter?
Unit Zzzzzzzzzz. Rebadoze trundles his book cart and neck-string-mounted flashlight down a cellblock so dark you can't even make out the far wall. Sigh. Now, the last time he did this, we were treated to the unforgettable sight of Robson in hot pants and Dick-Suck Red, but sadly this time it's Pablo who pops out to inquire, "Why you treating [Patti] like a bitch?" Because I can, Pablo. And because this whole ridiculous storyline's paint-by-numbers plotting now dictates that Pablo's own sainted madre be a feisty survivor of the curse of cancer, who "squashed that disease like it was a cockroach," and now affords Pablo the opportunity to impart wisdom to his elders by comparing Rebadoze to his spunky yet childishly innocent eight-year-old sister. Oh, please. And how is this kid not a prag by now? The good news about this scene is that cinematography aficionados can get a kick out of watching the extra playing a guard in the far background repeatedly trying to position himself just perfectly so that a reflected spotlight makes his badge flare in the darkness. The bad news is that Pablo doesn't shank Rebadoze. Oh, well.