Pit. "I mean, how you gonna shoot a police, yo?" rants D'Angelo to Poot and Bodie, the latter of whom concludes that "them Park Heights niggers just ain't got to fucking common sense." Some guy rolls up, telling Poot that Wallace is on the phone. D'Angelo repeats the name, and Poot shrugs, "Nigga ring me up twice a day whether he got shit to say or not." Give the kid a break; you just know his grandma doesn't have cable out in the country. When D'Angelo asks where Wallace is, we learn that Wallace hasn't tried so hard to keep his location a secret, because Poot knows exactly where he is. Bodie contemptuously says that Wallace is "surfing or some bullshit," but D'Angelo smiles a little at the thought that Wallace has escaped the city.
At the hospital, we pan from a pile of Kima's cut-up, bloody, undercover drag and up to Holley, who's processing it. As he's going through everything, Kima's pager goes off. But who could possibly be calling her, and wouldn't know where she was?
That's right: Bubbs. He hangs up a pay phone and fidgets, but barely has time to fret about it before two police cars scream up and uniformed cops start stalking toward him, demanding to know if he just used the phone. Bubbs doesn't get it, and says he did. The first cop to get to him roughly grabs him, saying that a man downtown needs to talk to him. Bubbs starts freaking out, saying, "I've never been so clean in my whole damn life!" The cop brusquely says he's just doing his job. And so warmly and politely, too.
Poot jogs around a corner and picks up the phone for Wallace, sarcastically greeting him as "Mr. Beachfront Property." Wallace corrects him, saying that his grandmother's place is bayside. Poot complains that Wallace went on vacation and didn't bring Poot, and asks how Wallace got all the way there, anyway. They didn't cover this in any of the other conversations they've been having twice a day? Okay. Wallace lies that he took a bus. Poot says he's going to come hang out with him, but Wallace tells him not to, saying that the air in the country is "all sticky -- worse than Baltimore. And these crickets -- they're louder than a motherfucker! Can't get no sleep. I don't think I'm cut out to be no country-ass nigga, man." At this point, the operator breaks in to say that Wallace needs to deposit more money (and just think how much of his time was wasted from the guy running to get Poot, and Poot running back! Where does that factor into your whole "avoiding detection" plan, Stringer Bell, you selfish prick?). Anyway, Wallace sighs that he has to go, and Poot can't even get out his whole "you can take the nigga out of the Westside" truism before the line goes dead. Poot chuckles. At his end, Wallace hangs up sadly and trudges back to his grandma's.