And now, a scene that unfairly maligns the humble yet exquisite pleasure of a hot, salty French fry dipped into a smooth, cold milkshake. Bellick is grilling his little rat Tweener on any dirt in the prison yard. When Tweener fails to produce any decent intelligence, Bellick tells him that the hamburger he's been chewing is now $100, payment's due at the end of the shift, and Tweener can either sell his virtue to the highest bidder or else. Tweener babbles that Michael and Westmoreland were chatting about how executions can be delayed if the chair's broken.
Commercials. There has got to be a quota for how many movies the Adam Sandler-era SNLers are allowed to make. Please?
Once we're back, Bellick charges into the death chamber and asks another CO if the chair is working, in a tone not much different than "Is the barbecue ready?" Bellick demands that the other CO run a test, and the guy snaps, "I already did. The electrical contractor signed off on it this morning. We're good to go." Bellick tells him to run it again. "Why?" the CO wants to know. "Because I have this all-consuming obsession with Michael Scofield, I just terrorized a rat into giving me information, and I suspect that Michael's messed with the chair," Bellick doesn't say. The guy runs another test -- this consists of someone pushing up two giant levers in a ritual that has a barbaric, boy-howdy- those-horseless-carriages- might-catch-on feel to it -- and the chair fails to spark. Bellick smugly says, "It ain't working."
Cut to Sucre and Michael just wandering about the cellblock. Sucre's catching up on events: "So once they redo all the paperwork, your brother gets three more weeks?" Michael confirms this. Sucre asks if they're going to make another escape, and Michael points out that he can't corrode the same pipe twice without raising suspicions. Sucre asks, "You got another way?" and Michael replies, "Right now, I'm just worried about getting through tonight."
As well he should be. Bellick and the other CO are winding their way through the warren of passages leading back to the fuse box/switch box/big, complicated important-looking thing that powers the electrical chair. Bellick opens the gate right up. The other guy is a little alarmed at his alacrity -- "Careful, there's two thousand volts running through that thing" -- but Bellick has nothing to fear, since his head is filled with rocks and they makes lousy electrical conductors. So he whips open the door, and the two of them notice the flash-fried rat currently draped over one of the fuses.