For later: "Ambassador Cole, please report to Exsanguination Chamber #6..."

While the Guardian -- Chris Meloni -- is being advised of their arrival, the trio is tossed into silver-lined, brightly lit cells that are like something out of a wonderful sci-fi movie, which is what it's about to turn into.

WEREWOLF BAR MITZVAH

Alcide: "No thank you. No corpse for me, thanks."
Wolves: "You think you're better'n us!"
Uh: Yeah?
Pack: "So why not fuck off back to Mississippi, pussy?"

There's lots of white trash werewolf posturing, which I guess is a pretty good parallel to pack stuff? With no alpha the center doesn't hold?

Martha: "My son was not perfect, but he deserves respect."
Alcide: "Wrong!"
Pack: "You murdered the Packmaster. As new master of this pack, it is your obligation to eat..."
Alcide: "Things I am not interested in include being your new Packmaster, and eating the old one. Those two are currently the top of the list. I suggest you find somebody who doesn't think your entire tradition and law are irrelevant. And I say this as somebody who was tangentially involved in the Mississippi Pack, who were like a million times grosser than you and were all in a drug cult."

Luna and Alcide gather up the pieces of Sam and skedaddle; the wolves continue to eat Marcus. It's gross, but you're numb at this point, so maybe it's just interesting. Can't Sam be a human-shifter already? I get that's Dark Side stuff and it would ruin him even more than running around being an idiot is already doing, but I always thought it would be so funny for a human shifter to be like, "And for my next trick, I will assume the shape of myself ... from yesterday, before y'all beat my ass. Loophole, bitches!"

CAMP BELLEFLEUR

Terry hallucinates a standard human rights violation -- burning a building or a village or something in Iraq, and not seemingly in a sanctioned way -- standing over Arlene with the very real hint of Ambien-zombie violence in the air. Arlene deals with this with a certain amount of aplomb, but can't quite rouse him; "I'm tired," he blurts, and then falls face-first onto the bed, stiff as a board, all one very sleepy movement. The question with this show is always, "Does anybody ever get fixed? Is that a possibility?" and increasingly it's like, "Not even Maxine Fortenberry and Tommy Merlotte could fix each other, and they were created basically to do that, so I guess not." But Terry. If anybody deserves a miracle, if this show could possibly bear that with anybody, it's him.