Takeout place. Poor Dukie is agonizing over the menu, trying to decide what to get, while Namond chaffs him that it's just a "chink joint," and he needs to hurry up and order because he's getting it. Namond ostentatiously counts out his cash (less impressive when the bill on the outside is...a $5), and Michael teases that he's showing off like a gangster or something. Namond gloats that he just likes to look out for the little people, and some play-fighting breaks out. It should not surprise you to learn that Michael easily gets the better of Namond the little bitch even while fake-boxing. Finally, Dukie asks the counterwoman for yakame with turkey grease. Namond cracks up. Dukie doesn't know what's funny about getting yakame, saying that his mother orders it all the time, and Namond patronizes that Dukie really is "one of them at-risk children," but magnanimously pays the $4 for his entrée just the same. I assume Dukie can also look forward to a complimentary dessert of seven M&Ms (plain). Dukie asks Michael what the big deal is with his order, and Michael tells him the noodles are fine, but that alcoholics ask for the turkey grease so that they can throw up whatever they drank and "go back to swilling that shit." Aaaand another disturbing piece of the miserable puzzle of Dukie's brutal home life careens into place. Lovely.

Later, the kids eat their dinners outside, Randy sharing his with Donut, gingerly holding his plastic fork with the few good fingers remaining on his right hand. Michael conversationally brings up Little Kevin, and that he's in a vacant now. The kids muse that Little Kevin must have fucked up somewhere, as Dukie and Randy share a secret guilty look. But no one has time to notice them as Walker rolls up, dry cleaning slung over his shoulder. He half-assedly hassles the kids, accusing them of plotting to snatch a purse and ordering them back to the reservation, "where [their] black asses belong." The kids don't move, and Walker takes a moment to taunt Donut, asking if he needs help with his food. Donut scowls much harder than any kid named for something so delicious ever should, and Walker demands again that they "get." Not wanting to invite the breakage of any of their other appendages, the crew grudgingly moves along.

As the kids wander in search of another stoop on which to eat their takeout, they bitch about what an asshole Walker is. Namond -- all-talkily, probably -- says that they should figure out a way to fuck with him in order to get him back. Suggestions include slashing his tires, leaving condoms on his car (Donut says it would send a message, but Randy's like, "What?" Heh), and sticking bumper stickers on his windshield. Michael gets a sudden flash of inspiration, asking whether Walker hangs out at a bar on Stockton known for its clientele of Western District cops. Someone says he's seen Walker's car there, and Michael confidently says he's got this one. He has been in kind of a take-charge mood lately.