Over in Nerese Campbell's office, Clay Davis is swearing incalculable retributions against anyone who doesn't intercede on his behalf -- that includes Royce, the caucus, "all those grasping bitches we put in every city department," and presumably Nerese herself. "I do not fall alone," Clay thunders. Nerese, who has been listening to this while massaging her temples, tries to get a word in edgewise, but Clay is just getting warmed up. "Think I'm gonna be the scapegoat for the whole damn machine?" Clay says. "Sheeeeeeeee-iiiiiiit." Seriously, that was quite possibly the mother of all "shee-iiiit"s -- I had time to run to the kitchen, fix myself a snack, and get back in front of the TV while he was saying it. Nerese says that Royce plans to stand with Clay, which is convenient since he happens to be out of office. What about Nerese and others who've benefited from Clay's...oh, let's say largesse? "A whole mess of people think they belong on the fence, don't they?" Clay fires. "It is what it is," Nerese offers weakly. "Y'all better hope not," Clay threatens. "Or it ain't gonna end with Clay Davis." Nerese counters that perhaps Clay is being a bit hasty -- dragging down others leaves him without any allies, supporters, or future employers. Keeping his mouth shut about who got what graft, even if it means a year in country-club prison and the loss of his state senate seat, and he's still got a future ahead of him. Witness the case of Ervin Burrell: "He goes quietly, and now he's making 12 a year more than when he was commissioner. And working half the hours. You think that happens if he does the piss and moan?" It does not -- Nerese told us so herself. Clay's reaction to all this? It certainly isn't another "sheeeeee-iiiiit," I can tell you that.
We're at the rimshop owned by Vinson, whom you may recognize as Marlo's consigliere. Marlo, Snoop, and O-Dog are there, too eating Chinese food. (My guess as to the fortune in the fortune cookie: "You will soon commit unspeakably violent felonies.") In comes Monk, who is quite visibly swaddled in a bullet-proof vest. Fool! Kevlar is no match for Omar's pure hatred. Besides, as Marlo points out, wearing a bullet-proof vest so conspicuously might tip Omar off that they're waiting on him. "If I can see the vest," Vinson says incredulously, "you don't think he can see the vest." Monk counters that seeing as how he's being used as bait, he'll make whatever wardrobe decisions he chooses. "Ain't no thing," Snoop says. "Because when Omar come at you, he'll be gunning at your head. I know I would be." During all this, Chris has come into the rim shop: "Stayed outside Monk's all night. They left before morning, though." So Marlo's people are apparently on to the fact that Omar is watching Monk's place. And they are most certainly watching him.
Over at the soup kitchen that Bubbles has been hanging out at, Templeton is interviewing the proprietor about how the clientele is reacting to the serial killer stalking their every move. Not surprisingly, they are not reacting all that much at all. Perhaps it's because the serial killer does not actually exist. Also, as the proprietor points out, "most of the folks we serve aren't actually homeless. Most are working poor." Templeton wonders why no one shared that information with him earlier, to save him the time of soliciting opinions of people not being stalked by a serial killer. "Well, you seemed to be getting along okay," the proprietor says. "I didn't want to ruin it for you." Also, you are a douchebag, whom we like to see suffer. So there's that, too. Templeton asks where he might go to find homeless people. "Streets, maybe," the proprietor suggests. Everyone's a comedian.