Over at the Sun loading dock, the ever-shrinking crew of smokers -- we're down to Gus, Price, and Zorzi -- are mid-conversation about Templeton's most recent conversation with the serial killer. "It's weird shit, I gotta say," Zorzi comments. "Talking to a psychopath like that." "I interviewed Dick Cheney once," Price cracks. In fairness to the veep, he seems like more of a sociopath. I will now barricade the doors in anticipation of the federal agents making a beeline for my lair. More to the point, Zorzi wonders whether the Sun is hyping this story, or if Templeton is giving an accurate account. While the home viewer pauses to laugh derisively, Gus gives a more even-handed, noncommittal answer: "The police say it's real." Zorzi grouses that everyone at the paper will be writing homeless stories until December; Price doesn't take his meaning. "Pulitzer submissions run the calendar year," Gus explains to Price (and, by extension, us). "Anything a newspaper cares about at Christmas, they give a fuck about by New Year's." It seems like Price, working at a paper as Pulitzer-hungry as this one, might have known that already -- unless he became a Sun reporter like in the opening credits or something.
His smoke break and sermon about the evils of running prize-bait news stories completed, Gus returns to the newsroom, where rewrite man Jay Spry is fielding a call from Reception. Seems there's a guy in the lobby demanding to talk to an editor who worked on Templeton's story about the homeless vet. Why doesn't he want to talk to Templeton? Gus wonders. Because Templeton won't take his calls anymore is why. A chance to talk to somebody who might have a beef about one of M. Scott Templeton's stories? You don't have to send Gus an engraved invitation.
Elsewhere, Michael is meeting with Chris and Snoop, relating Omar's lengthy and rather angrily-worded message to Marlo. Chris and Snoop digest this news with nary a word, so Michael keeps jabbering, somewhat nervously. "Everybody sayin' Omar's on his warpath," Michael continues. "Heard he got a stash house last week. Everybody's..." "Everybody needs to shut the fuck up," snaps Snoop. Nevertheless, Michael can't seem to wrap his brain around why Marlo ordered a hit on Junebug for saying unpleasant things about him but Omar can walk -- well, hobble -- around town saying far more disgraceful things about the boss with nobody saying boo about it. Shouldn't someone be telling Marlo about this? "Man got enough on his plate," says Chris. Michael starts to theorize what he would want to see happen if he were Marlo -- "Motherfucker, you ain't," Snoop says, adding a shove to the chest to emphasize her point.
Out in the streets, Officers Truck and Dozerman are admiring their new wheels -- GPS positioning! HD Radio! The decided absence of the stink of a failing municipality! -- and exulting in their good fortune. "New car, OT," Dozerman says. "This fucking detail, man. I hope we never catch this goofy motherfucker." Hey, file that request with McNulty -- I'm sure it can be arranged. Just then, someone strolls -- well, hobbles -- up to the car. It's Omar, yo, and he just wants to tell the two officers that there are a couple of hoodlums around the corner packing heat. Truck and Dozerman thank him for the intel and drive off to dispense some justice. Perhaps they should have inquired as to what their gimpy informant planned on doing once they cleared away the guys toting weapons.