Herc, Carver, and Dozerman are coming out of the local cineplex with their respective dates. From the looks of things, the boys agreed to see some sort of artsy-fartsy foreign film as a sop to the ladies, and Herc is filled with regrets. "I couldn't understand a word," he grumbles. "Ah, honey, you gotta read the subtitles," his main squeeze coos. In fairness to Herc, it seems quite unreasonable to expect him to be able to read. At the same time, Bodie and Poot are walking out of a different theater in the same cineplex with their dates -- I think it's a telling detail that they are not coming out of a artsy-fartsy foreign film, but rather a showing of a movie apparently entitled Blood Fist. I'm guessing this is the follow to the very under-appreciated Blood Elbow. Anyhow, this meeting between hunter and hunted is not the least bit awkward. "Oh shit," says Poot. "Y'all go to the movies." Apparently so. Introductions are in order, I think. "You must be the lovely Mrs. Herc," Poot says to Mrs. Herc. "Herc and Carver here, they try to snatch us up every day," Bodie explains to his date. "Like 'Where the shit? Who got the shit?' But they never get nothing." "So, y'all go to the movies," Poot repeats. "Damn." Two tickets to see Blood Fist at the local megaplex: $20. A large popcorn and two sodas: $12. The chance to make your nemesis on the police force look like tool-using apes in front of their loved ones: Priceless.

While Freamon is skulking around Homicide, sneaking looks at the crime-scene photos his team is following on the wiretap, Kima is at home with her partner and baby watching what sounds like Fear Factor on the TV and having strained conversations that end in disapproving silence. From the look on Kima's face, it's clear who's having the more enjoyable evening.

The drug-trade thing having not worked out for Cutty, he's now turning to the life of day-labor, which has him waiting on a street corner with large masses of Spanish-speaking gentlemen. From the campaign trail, Tom Tancredo vows to have Cutty deported. (And literally seconds after I type that sentence comes word that Tom Tancredo has dropped out of the presidential race. The lesson? I have freaky mind powers. Stay on my good side. Don't make me do to you what I did to John From Cincinnati.)