Fade up on the interior of Primetime's Most Depressing Hospital, Calhoun "Chicago Hopeless" Memorial, in which Ronette's empty bed is soon to be filled with a ranting, screaming Ronette being secured to said bed by hospital attendants. As if entirely consumed by the stage direction "you're finally awake…and you're ACTING!" Ronette flails her arms wildly and screams every available variant of "No!" and "Ah!" and "Woe be it to my non-range-displaying, virtually-Sylvia-Horne-esque post-series career opportunities!" until we pan across the room to spot a nurse preparing an injection of some kind. Cooper runs into the room in a "what, me shot?" hurry, followed by Albert, and we learn from an already present Truman that "Ronette pulled out her IV. They just gave her a sedative." Albert stops for a cautious look at Ronette's IV bag and, perhaps as concerned as I am that the hospital's idea of proper post-traumatic bloodstream additive looks less like, um, whatever is usually found in an IV bag and more like Blueberry Bash Kool-Aid, instantly forms the belief that it "looks like dye." Over by the bed, Cooper unearths a pair of tweezers and holds Ronette's left hand. He suggests as gently as possible that she "breathe now, honey," moving the tweezers toward her still-swollen ring finger and inserting them under the nail ever so slightly. Rather than forcing us to relive the spectacle of these tweezers probing so deeply under a girl's fingernail that they manage to pluck a nose hair or two before reemerging into the light (see the pilot for more on this wrenching and invasive medical procedure), we cut instead to a slow-motion shot of Ronette screaming, as a magazine cut-out letter "B" is oh-so-faux-artsily superimposed over the proceedings. Oooh, artsy indeed. All hail Lesli Linka Glatter, the director of this week's episode, for harping the Lynch style so self-consciously that she somehow tore into the time-space continuum in making sure that the show could actually rip its own self off. Farewell, Lesli Linka Glatter. We barely -- or, really, not at all -- knew ye.

Seconds later, Cooper looks at the B through Albert's microscope and states with all certainty, "He's been here." Albert observes that Ronette has been under twenty-four-hour surveillance since entering the hospital, but Cooper is positive that this mysterious "he" both planted the letter and tainted Ronette's IV with the Blueberry Bash. I'm sayin', Coop, if you're really that suspicious of the Kool-Aid guy's participation in this caper, the surefire way to see if he's been around your neighborhood is to closely examine the walls of Ronette's hospital room. If any of them has been broken through entirely and the remaining area around the rubble is vaguely shaped like the bulbous side of a giant pitcher, it's a fair bet you've got your man. Not to mention the testimony from other hospital patients and personnel that they were rocked awake by a jubilant cry of "Oh, yeah!" as the wall came tumbling down. I'd probably need a sedative after the trauma of witnessing that, too. Sigh. Meanwhile, back at the observation deck overlooking the vistas of Linear Recapping National Park (Sorry, kids. Park's closed), Truman suggests that perhaps Ronette saw the man who assaulted her, and Albert loses just a shade of his trademark luster with the comeback, "Maybe she heard a Sousa march and got up to look for her baton." Yeah, um, maybe? Sensing the increasing "chirp, chirp" silence that follows Albert's every attempt at humor, Cooper quickly changes the subject to "plot retreading for the impatient casual viewer," alerting the men, "It's time I've mentioned something." And so, always a man of his word, Cooper mentions something: "I'm not sure, but I believe I was visited by a giant. Twice. In my room." Truman strives valiantly to appear understanding, bearing in mind that, long as this show had been around when this episode initially aired, Cooper had really only been in Twin Peaks for, what, nine hours or so? Albert, conversely, pauses a moment, arms folded, before asking the question on the minds of the literally tens of fans hanging on every word the show had to offer at this point in its run: "Any relation to the dwarf?"