True crime time: it's Penders, who shoots some kid for a reason that the segment fails to communicate. Perhaps it's because his hat is dumb. Criminally negligent homicide. Seventeen years. Up for parole in nine.
Needless to say, Hill will no longer be part of Man's Best Friend, where Penders and Alvarez will be teaching the dogs self-control and focus by forcing them to restrain themselves from eating steaks that PrettyDogLady places on the floor. They can't get distracted by meat, or pussy, when they're leading blind people across freeways and into helicopters; they must focus on their person at all times. "I haven't seen a steak in seven years, and now you're gonna put it on the floor so a dog won't eat it," says Penders. No, the dog won't eat it, because it's already been trained within an inch of its life, as evidenced by the fact that the dogs don't make a beeline for the pan as soon as they walk in the door, but whatever -- we get to watch fabricated cruelty to animals as they fake whine. Per instructions, Alvarez pulls his dog, Julie (insert retributive story for bitter Ozwriter here), away from the steak, and then he pretty much lets her eat it.
Back in the common area, Kenmin tells Alvarez and Julie the story of the dog his parents gave him when he was a wee lad. Basically, he hacked the thing to bits, which really peeved his parents. When Alvarez tells him to fuck off away from his dog, Kenmin maintains that he was kidding, but that's neither funny strange nor funny ha ha. I don't like Kenmin, or his meticulously styled hair. Where, exactly, does one find a hairdryer and gel in Oz? Morales walks over and tells Kenmin to do as Alvarez says. Kenmin obliges, and hustles away, saying, "Someday, Morales, someday." Someday what? He's gonna feather Morales's hair? Alvarez wants to know if Morales is now protecting him, but Morales says no but, getting all serious, he wants to ask a question. Where's Mukada's office, he'd like to know. Pause for laughter. Oh, there's not any? Let's move on.
Morales, comfy in velour, barrels into Mukada's cavernous office. Mukada, comfy in sackcloth, expresses surprise to see him. Morales, suddenly uncomfy, agrees. He sits. They stare. Morales talks about some guy he killed; Mukada thinks he's come because he's feeling guilty. Hardly, Daddio. Morales realized that he was the last person to hear this guy's voice. "I own his last words," says Morales. "I got a feeling you own my sister's, and I want them." Oh, says, Mukada, referring to their "chat" and pretending that he didn't just soil his drawers -- she loved you, and she couldn't wait to see you. Morales explains that his sister Annette "was the spitting image of our mother," as Mukada dry-heaves, and he wants to confirm that she at least died happy. Mukada says she kicked the bucket in high spirits indeed, except, of course, for the problems she was having with her husband, and I look a mile away, and I see something coming, and I know what it is. Problems? Morales is shocked. He knew of no problems. What kind of problems? Mukada squirms, says that he's not sure exactly what sort of problems, but she did mention Viagra and a harness, and suggests that Morales ask the husband in question. Nifty idea, agrees Morales.