Well, it's Sobell's birthday, so what better gift to give her than a week where she no longer has to just willingly suspend disbelief, but lure it into a dark alley where she knee-caps it, kicks it in the head, and takes its wallet just so that it doesn't get any ideas about ratting her out to the cops? I'm assuming my husbandly duties and pinch-hitting for her while she celebrates her 19th birthday. So long as this episode doesn't feature excessive amounts of vomiting, things should go just fine.
We begin right where the last episode left off, with Michael trying to refresh Haywire's memory: "I have a tattoo? And you're one of those dudes who can see the patterns in anything? And also freakishly smart? And crazy as a shithouse rat? Why don't you recall the tattoo without also remembering that I framed you for assaulting me in my cell?" Haywire is all, "Are you the guy who stole my toothpaste?" Indeed! The guy who stole your toothpaste! And not the guy who framed you for assault -- we can't stress that part enough.
Just then, the penal system's equivalent of Nurse Ratched waddles over with paper cups of medication, which Haywire receives gratefully. Michael proves to be a more finicky psych ward patient; "No, thank you," he demurs, apparently forgetting that he's in prison and free will ain't exactly on the menu. After telling the nurse he'd prefer to talk to Dr. Tancredi about whether or not he has to take a mild sedative, he helpfully adds, "I'm feeling better." "That's great," the nurse snaps back. "Now take the pill." Haywire chimes in, "Take 'em. They're good." He's cuckoo for Quaaludes, apparently. Still not grasping that he isn't just stuck in a day spa with really indifferent service, Michael resists, and the nurse hollers for reinforcements. Not that she needs them -- she's just messing with Michael's head.
Inside the former HQ for Team Escarpara, Geary (the sticky-fingered CO) is tossing the cell just in case there's anything of value he can pilfer. Bellick comes over and cheerily says, "Scofield went J-cat?" Geary sagely opines that he saw the crackup coming from Day One. Bellick is practically giddy at the idea of Michael over in the Whack Shack. Geary is practically giddy for reasons of his own: "Middle cell, middle tier. Prime piece of real estate. You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'? We can promise to keep it a single for a few months, auction it off." Damn, you can't even escape real estate speculators in jail!
Back in the Whack Shack, an orderly -- think Scatman Crothers after six straight months with Bowflex -- explains to Michael that there's more than one way to get a pill into one's digestive tract, should someone be unwilling to swallow. That convinces Michael to down his pills, saving us all the riveting "Look out, Tummy, here it comes" scene. After popping open Michael's mouth to see that the pill is well and truly swallowed, the orderlies disperse…just as Michael removes the pill from where he's been stashing it between his cheek and gums. Why, that sneaky sneak who sneaks! On the bright side, Michael was able to carry out an elaborate plan of deception without having to first get a full-body tattoo this time.
Now, it's off to make sure that Haywire gets off the junk. Michael reminds Haywire that he once drew Michael's tattoo from memory and please, pretty please, could he do it again? The lewd, mind-altering drugs seem to already be taking their effect on Haywire, who stares back glassily. Michael gives a grim look, prepping himself to get all Nancy Reagan on Haywire's drug-using ass.