Jim uses his SPRINT PHONE and gets a SPRINT OPERATOR on the line. He tells her he needs an address in Push for a "Highwater Trucking," and why are we surprised when there's no such listing listed? Are you? You shouldn't be.
Whoa! Now Not His Lawyer is actually running the meeting! Not only is he a member of the Jim Prufrock Undoing Club, he's also the president. He barks at them, "Gentlemen, we are off our game. Sloppiness. Lack of attention to detail. And general malaise. This ends now." He points to Tech Nerd and Makes An Example: "You. Prufrock's email should never have gotten out. You're terminated, goodbye." Wow. Someone's still all crooked-nosed about not getting the syndicated Weakest Link hosting gig, isn't someone? And I dig how he put his own spin on the catchphrase that never really caught, too. He continues that all of their combined resources will, at this point, be concentrated on "finding Mary Sloman." Isn't that the one where the dead guy is the winner of the lottery? Those twee British films all sound the same to me. He sends them on their way to fail upwards some more, excepting two men in suits (natch), one of whom offers some cursory background information on Jim's childhood. Not His Lawyer cuts him off abruptly, sighing, "If I wanted this crap, I would have Googled him myself." Someone get a moratorium on that expression in a hurry. I think I even used it myself once. In this recap. It always sounds dumb. Ignore it wholesale. The other suited gentleman attempts to fill in some gaps: "1986. With the suicide of his father, twelve-year-old Jim Prufrock withdraws from the few friends he has." We learn that he even dropped out of band! What a crisis for the Carson City football team, who will never hear the saxophone part to "Celebration" with quite the same clarity. For some reason, I decided Jim played the saxophone in marching band, although maybe he played the triangle. After Daddy Issues kicked in, Jim gave up all activities except for math club. And the back-of-the-bus wedgies that that so clearly implies. All of this pop psych comes down to Jim scoring an 800 on the math SAT due to a practice regimen that began three years before the test, "a commitment to a strength of will not easily overridden." All this, incidentally, while we're intercut with Jim stealing trash bags out of a dumpster and sorting through until he finds a scrap of paper reading "Highwater Trucking," followed by the address "4738 Sunrise Ave." Back in Chrome Heaven, Suited Man #2 continues, "Prufrock will not stop. He can't be co-opted, persuaded, reasoned with." A line after which the two of you who emailed me about loving Chess mouthed the line, "Which of course means he's not a lunatic at all," before breaking into a rousing chorus of "Where I Want To Be" with the worst fake Russian accent since Yakov Smirnov. What? You say he really was from Russia? Yeah. Right.
Showdown at Highwater Trucking. Jim checks his watch to note that it's twenty minutes to death, and walks next to the corrugated prefab building. He spots a Ross talking to BRB, and rounds a corner to approach them directly. But at the least opportune time, his cell phone rings, and the two men turn around. It's Grace again, and this time it's the 7-C that's in question. All the while, The Three Product-Placed Ross-Dress-For-Less Suit-Wearers Of The Apocalypse approach menacingly, and the phone calls ends and the men approach, and Pawn pulls up in a police cruiser holding the anklet and tosses Jim in the passenger seat. It's all very dramatic. Meanwhile, Sloman, working alone, tosses about a million guns in his trunk, pulls one out, and hitches it into his pants. I guess "Viagra Viagra Viagra" is more than just spam for some people, old timer. I'll forward the next one I get along to your attention.