Post by forumfish on May 23, 2009 21:54:53 GMT -5
Authors: CelleDuSoleil (Ep. 401 - 417), Casino Bride (Ep. 418 - 420), tursiopsseries (Ep. 421), Trini Girl (Ep. 422)
Ep. 401
Michael: SaraSaraSaraSaraSara...
Gretchen: I didn’t kill her. Psych!
Mahone: Whistler’s actually not evil. Shocking, I know, and he’s got lotsa S-words.
Michael: Sara?
“Whistler”: Scylla. *Thud.*
Michael & Mahone: *Scamper!*
Self: Bringing down the Company is your destiny, your Fate, your Birthright ...
Michael: So not Sara?
Self: ... YOUR NOT-SPENDING-THE-NEXT-FIFTEEN-YEARS-IN-A-MAXIMUM-SECURITY-FEDERAL-PRISON!
Michael: Gosh, that’s almost a lifetime.
Self: I can’t help but feel your life goals are a bit shortsighted. Let’s ask Lincoln, shall we?
Linc: Get stuffed.
Self: C’mon, do it for your Country, you slacker.
Linc: Would this be the Country whose Government framed me for murder and whose People decided I should fry?
Self: ... Never mind. You’ve been bailed out. No, no, take that file full of highly classified original documents with you. My life is void of meaning, now. I might as well just shoot myself.
Sara: Guess who.
Michael: Wait, I know this one.
Sara: As much as I adore your origami and undying devotion, I think it would be really therapeutic for me to see the Company brought down.
Michael: Linc, saddle up.
Linc: Yo.
Self: Score! Whadda ya need?
Michael: A posse.
Self: Check.
Michael: ... and some cathartic sustained physical pain.
Self: Check.
Michael’s tattoo: It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done. You bast--
Ep. 402
Michael: Here’s the Plan: 1) all squabbling ends right now -- the last thing we need is repressed issues ambushing us at the most inopportune moment, and 2) we get the thing from the place for the guy.
Mahone: Fine.
Roland: Good plan.
Linc: Shut-up.
Sara: *Meltdown*
Michael: Commence Operation: “Sucre’s Puerto Rican”.
Roland: Nada, genius.
Linc: Shut-up.
Michael: I need a clue.
Sara: It’s from Odysseus.
Michael: Like: “Though much is taken, much abides; and though we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; one equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield”?
Sara: No, that’s Ulysses, but you’re close.
Michael: Commence Operation:”Trojan Maid”.
Roland: Oooh, so close yet so far.
Linc: Shut-up.
Michael: Let’s just break-in.
Mahone: *Meltdown*
Roland: ...
Linc: What?
Roland: You’re not gonna like it.
Linc: That goes without saying.
Roland: This is only part of it. There are more of these cards.
Sara: Scylla. Six soldiers. Six cards. This is going to take forever and probably even more classical tragedy.
Michael: *Meltdown*
Linc: You okay?
Michael: “The past tempts us, the present confuses us, the future frightens us. And our lives slip away, moment by moment, lost in that vast terrible in-between.”
Linc: Was that another clue?
Michael: I’m fine.
Ep. 403
Self: You got the card? Already? Wow. What oth-- I mean: GET BACK IN THERE AND GET THE OTHER FOUR-
Michael: FIVE!
Self: -FIVE CARDS! FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION!
Herb: I’m pulling the plug on this.
Self: But we’re actually getting results!
Herb: Homeland Security, son, is about homey security -- not “getting results”.
Michael: Success is the only option. No one is to speak unless he’s got a solution, or the sound of her voice gives me tingles of delight.
Sara: I don’t get it.
Mahone: It’s a code.
Michael: Excellent.
Roland: But I don’t wanna go to Disneyland!
Michael: Linc.
Linc: *Thwack*
Roland: But I don’t wanna suffocate!
Michael: Linc.
Linc: *SMASH!*
Sucre’s text: “Dear Michael, Long was the day and boorish was the company as our conveyance was surrounded by a veritable bevy of rather excitable agents of our fair land. I suggest, respectfully, that you and your familiars make, posthaste, as the speeding cheetahs over the savannah lest you become the fleeing gazelles. The weather continues to be fine. Hoping this finds you better than it leaves me, your friend and ex-comrade-in-incarceration, Fernando Alejandro Bernadino Santa-Maria Sucre”
Michael: Linc.
Linc: *Evade!*
Self: You’re just delaying the inevitable. Give up.
Michael: Here’s a video of the rest of the card-holders.
Self: Wow. I mean: GET BACK IN THERE AND GET ME THOSE CARDS!
Mahone: *Meltdown*
Michael: Linc?
Linc: On it.
Ep. 404
Linc: Free parking, hot wife -- I wanna be a diplomat.
Michael: The wife’s the card-holder.
Linc: Eh, pass, but I could totally be diplomatic.
T-Bag: *Flee!* ... -Urk!
Linc: WHERE’S THE BIRD BOOK, YOU PILE OF HUMAN-SHAPED EXCREMENT?
T-Bag: Weeeell gosh-darn-diggity-doodah, Prih-tty an’ Puce! Ah hav’n’t got the foggiest, bu’ let us lee-ver-rage ou’ competencies outta the sah-ghts o’ the law.
Lisa: Why don’t I just leave now?
Pad-Man: Style, m’dear. You’ll depart in a seemly manner when the kip’s at fifteen, the word of the day is “weevil” and Paris Hilton’s blood alcohol is exactly 0.28756. We can covertly control every aspect of the lives of billions, but if We don’t have style ...
Lisa: ... We might as well be Pfizer. Understood. Kiss-noise!
Sara: I killed Bruce!
Michael: You didn’t kill him -- The Company did. It’s not your fault.
Sara: Just like it wouldn’t have been your fault if They’d killed me?
Michael: That’s different -- you wouldn’t have been here to tell me it wasn’t my fault.
Mahone: So the only time we’ll have access to our target will be in a really large room full of grieving cops hellbent on righteous retribution.
Michael: We’ll fit right in. Commence operation: “Thin Blue Lie”.
Michael, Linc & Sucre: *Steal!*
Michael, Linc & Mahone: *Subterfuge*
Bellick & Linc: *Stab!*
Michael: *Sniff*
Lisa: Hanky?
Michael: Thank you.
Self: You definitely get points for style, Scofield.
Michael: Eh, pass, but I could do with a final break-in plan.
Ep. 405
Self: Hey, I know that guy!
Michael: Great. Pay him a visit.
Self: How?
Michael: With cake.
Sara: Some scary guy was tailing me but I lost him using a couple of semis, a softball team and some shrubbery.
Mahone: This guy?
Sara: That guy.
Michael: LA really is a small town -- everyone knows everyone else and approximately half of them want us dead. Still, that which does not kill us ...
Mahone: ... has made its last mistake.
Self: There’s no way you guys--
Michael: You’ll get us in through the garage.
Self: And that safe is--
Linc: Drill.
Self: Which will make--
Michael: Vacuum.
Self: I’m not--
Michael: Commence operation: “Misters Clean”.
Sucre & Bellick: *VACUUM!*
Michael & Linc: *DRILL!*
Linc: Wanna talk inconvenient nose bleeds, how convenient it is that your significant other’s a doctor and how logical it would be to tell her?
Michael: No. And neither do you.
Pad-Man: Card check!
Michael & Linc: ...
Oren: But I can assure you, sir, most eloquently that I am the very model of a modern Major Card-holder, and this lack of confidence in my--
Michael & Linc: *Drill!*
Pad-Man: Just. Show. Me. The. Card.
Sara: ... They’re mucking up the delicate socio-economic balance of Laos andIwasatabarbutdidn’tswallow.
Michael: I though it was narcotics. With you. Not Laos.
Sara: It is whatever’s convenient and omission is a lie -- I don’t care what Spock says -- and I don’t want to lie to you.
Michael: I could end it right now, just say--
Sara: No. I don’t want my weakness to jeopardize our only chance at a real life.
Michael: Your logic is flawless.
Ep. 406
Mahone: You gotta go. Now.
Michael: But Operation: “Hats, Horses & Clea--”
Mahone: Yeah, well, thanks to some complete media-sleeper plastering your photogenic mug all over the news not too long ago, those cops are gonna recognize you -- distracting hats, horses and cleavage notwithstanding. If I every get my hands on that guy ...
Cop: Hey!
Mahone: *Thwack!*
Michael: Get him out.
Self: I can’t be the bail-out guy every time you guys screw-up.
Sucre: I’m not gonna be the next guy to selflessly sacrifice himself for the team.
Linc: Well, we can’t sacrifice the team for the guy whose first reaction to any problem is throwing a punch then ending up with his ass in the slammer and requiring insanely dangerous and complicated, yet infuriatingly understated, measures to get him out.
Michael: Which guy am I?
Sara: Which do you think?
Mahone: I don’t want to be that guy.
Michael: Me neither.
Sucre: Five ... four ... three .....
Wyatt: *Stalk*
Sucre: .... two .......
Mahone: *Glare*
Sucre: .... one and five-eighth ....
Wyatt: *Sneer*
Sucre: .... one and a half ....
Mahone: *Fl--*
Sucre: ... one!
Linc: Finally.
Michael: *Zap!*
Team Escarpara: *Flee!*
Mahone: You guys ...
Dear Patrons and Misc.,
We apologize for the delay in this week’s performance -- the Finger-puppets assure us that’s it’s not so much a case of not know where to start but rather having no idea where, or indeed how, to stop. They insist they’ll have it in a day or two once they stop randomly yelling things like “Georgia O’Keeffe”, giggling hysterically and falling over.
Your guess is as good as ours,
The Management
Ep. 407
T-Bag: So whe’e do you fi’ een-to all thih-s, darlin’?
Gretchen: It’s a bit complicated -- I’ll just draw you an explanatory diagram.
Michael: Let’s make this as painless as possible: Linc, Sara, Sucre and Roland are on Operation: “Ocean’s Four”--
Roland: WHOOOOO!
Sucre: Shut-up.
Michael: ... and Alex, Bellick and myself will take Operation: “Bird in the Hand”. Any questions?
T-Bag: Wha’ haay-ve Ah caugh’ mah-self?
Michael: Could we, just this once, dispense with the display of creeptastic phantasmagoria that you think of as “people skills” and skip right to the part where you submit to my Plan?
T-Bag: Bu’, Prih-tty, Ah’ve been ree-hearsin’ a veh-rih speci’l perfoh-mance of mah Moh-noh-logues just fo’ you!
Mahone: *Flee!*
Michael: Do tell.
Linc: I hate Vegas.
Sara: You? Hate Vegas? Spill, Linc.
Linc: Nothing.
Sara: And?
Linc: Michael’s fine and he sent me -- and you -- here.
Sara: ... I hate Vegas.
T-Bag: You do work fast when moh-tih-vay-t’ted, Prih-tty. Ahd-mih-t it, yoh’ een it fo’ the mo-ney. Jus’ Lahk. Mee.
Michael: It’s pointless to deny that, as always, my motives are entirely transparent to you, Theodore.
Pad-Man: ... what do you mean you lost him?
Self: General Kurtz.
Pad-Man: Actually it’s “Krans”, Agent Self.
Self: Whatever. Off me and you’ll be buried in paperwork -- piles and piles of boring, irrelevant, futile paperwork. You won’t be able to even think about Laos through the tears of frustration.
Pad-Man: You’re hired.
Self: Pass -- I’ve met your Human Resources department.
Roland: Gimme details, Sugar-man!
Sucre: I’ll just leave it in Vegas and to your imagination. Oh, and: shut-up.
T-Bag: And what’s yo’ Great Plan, now, Prih-tty?
Michael: What it’s always been.
Mahone: *Thwack!* *Slam!*
Self: That was amazingly painless.
Roland: *Meep!*
Gretchen: Hello, Michael.
Ep. 408
Gretchen: Just think of it as a case of my enemy’s enemy--
Michael: --isn’t my primary objective ... yet.
Roland: It was a mistake! A tiny, little moment of weakness!
Michael: Shut-up!
Sara: Linc tells me you’re fine.
Michael: Yeah, well, Linc’s overly protective and far too sensitive! And, frankly, a blabbermouth! Also, Gretchen’s alive and working with us. And T-Bag. Are you okay?
Sara: ... Fine.
Self: I don’t believe it.
Michael: No, really, that’s Operation: “Crash”. We’re going to need an ambulance.
Self: No problem. Would you like fries with that?
Michael: No. Just some drugs and three extremely unflattering EMT uniforms.
Self: I’d ask, but then I’d have to know.
T-Bag: Ah’ have yoo know, darlin’, tha’ Ah can be quah-te the stihck-lah fo’ accountin’.
Gretchen: Oh, relax, Bagwell. I can assure you that you’re everything I look for in a man and that you’ll definitely be getting your cut.
Linc: We good to go?
Michael: Yeah.
Roland: *txt!*
Wyatt: *BANG!*
Sara: You’re going to be fine, Fernando.
Sucre: ¡Madre de Dios!
Sara: No, really, I’ve had plenty of experience in trauma. Surgery.
Sucre: Oh, that’s cool then. Run along and give that rat hell, guys!
Wyatt: Boo.
Roland: *meep!*
Mahone: *WHACK! Thwack! SmashsmashSMASH!*
Linc: Whoa, Alex! No. Kill. ... Yet.
Roland: I don’t wanna die.
Michael: I hear you.
Pad-Man: I don’t want to hear any more updates! Those bastards aren’t just after my life -- they’re after MY CARD!
Ep. 409
Sucre: Wow, this place is ...
Michael: ... atmospherically reminiscent of the subterranean lair of some nameless and ancient evil yet possessing, in actuality, an industrial functionalism that is all the more unnerving in its banality? Are you coming?
Sucre: To hell and back, bro. I just wish someone had told me it had so many entrances.
Sara: “All” and “dead”. Check. Now, can you talk to me about some sort of resolution or achievement?
Wyatt: I do know People. Just let me go and it could be all over for you.
Sara: Bingo.
Bellick: Does anyone want to hear ‘bout my dawning realization that my life so far has been a pathetic string of pointless petty cruelties and that given the choice between dying a coward and dying a hero, I choo--
Linc: Focus, Brad. Let’s just get this over with.
Self: Good talking, Sara, let’s make with the walking.
Sara: Bu--
Self: Think of it as therapeutic closure.
Mahone: How do you feel about holistic medicine?
Wyatt: I’m partial to aromatherapy.
Mahone: Really? I prefer acupuncture.
Sucre: You, my friend, are in need of medical attention.
Michael: I’m in need of getting through that pipe. Please.
Sucre: Yeah, yeah.
Michael: You rock. I’m so glad there’s two of you right now.
Gretchen: *Meow!*
Lisa: *HISS!*
Pad-Man: Girls, girls, please, I am flexible enough to provide coverage for everyone.
Sucre: Linc! Brad! You’re back! Things are starting to get--
Water: *GUSH!*
Bellick: You shall pass!
Linc: NO!
Wyatt: *Splash*
Pad-Man: Things are starting to get back to normal. Excellent.
Ep. 410
Mahone: So that’s the code hidden in the blueprints hidden in the bird book.
Michael: How original. Commence Opera-- *thud*
Self: Aw c’mon, shake it off -- we’ve got an evil conspiracy to take down!
Michael: I’m okay! Operation ... y’know ... “Whatchamacallit” is more important.
Mahone: Don’t worry about it -- I’ll take care of Operation: “Baber Dav1d”.
Linc: And Sucre and me’ll take Operation: “And a Hard Place”.
Sara: And we’ll take Operation: “Operation” while Donald sees to Operation: “Shut the Hell Up, Moronic Government Minion”.
Trishanne: Ha! Ha! No need to wonder ‘bout li’l ole me! I’m just a random temp who inadvertently fell into this mess and was, for some mysterious reason, allowed to remain in it as your Girl Friday by an agent of the Department of Homeland Security despite my being a completely innocent and untrained civilian and you being ... you. Sir.
T-Bag: Tha’ is fun-ny now tha’ yoo men-tion it. Ha. Ha.
David Baker: This is my Plan for the Perfectly Proportionally Powered Place of Perfection. It’ll be a Utopia for Everyone, not just the rich and powerful Thems because that would be elitist and wrong.
Mahone: And Scylla was?
David Baker: My Devilishly Devious Den of Devised Doom.
Land-mine: Beep!
Sucre: *Meep!*
Mahone: We need to upgrade it to Needlessly Nefarious but can’t figure out the blueprints.
David Baker: Haven’t you read the legend?
Mahone: Yeah, it’s a real bitch the way Odysseus is made to wander through all those weird and horrific places and make so many sacrifices at the whims of the gods before he can return home to his wife.
David Baker: You’re not Company.
Mahone: Am too, but recovering. It’s been almost a whole day since I tortured and killed anyone and that was personal. Oh, cra--
Sucre: Aaaah!
Michael: --ap. We’re moving.
Neurologist: Going somewhere? Please, it wasn’t exactly brain surgery to see through your clever disguises, and I’m not going to turn you in, but--
Michael: Great. Thanks. Bye.
Sara: Call us!
Mahone: Don’t touch that beeping land-mine!
Gretchen: And what the beep do you suggest we do?
Mahone: I’ll just push this here button and Sucre will have about 19 seconds to agonize about it and 1 second to step off although it’ll probably feel more like 3 minutes.
Linc: When will you know?
Michael: Preferably never -- probably any second now. Bring on the next impossibility.
Sara: You need brain surgery immediately or It’ll kill you.
Michael: Can’t It take a number and line-up behind Gretchen? I’m sure they’ll have a lot to talk about and I’ve got a Devilishly Devious Den of Devised Doom to crack.
Ep. 411
Michael: But I don’t wanna have brain surgery! Can we please get back to Operation--
Linc & Sara: Shut-up!
Michael: ... Yeah. Okay. Fine.
Sara: Really?
Linc: As long as we’ve got a Plan for Scylla. Gretchen’s hooking the sixth card.
Sara: That would be Operation ...
T-Bag: “... appalling, depraved, loathsome, deplorable, contemptible, monstrous, nauseating, abhorrent, despicable, debased, wicked, sickening, repulsive, unpleasant, atrocious, odious, heinous and nasty.” Ah could go on.
Trishanne: And on, and yet, I’m still not losing my jacket for you -- it’s a wool blend so my dry cleaner would have a fit and a good one is so hard to find.
Michael: Good, so to breach that wall we’re going to need to generate an ... uhm ... y’know ... like a strong attractive force ...
Linc, Sara, Sucre & Mahone: ...
Mahone: Auxiliary Mastermind Sub-system: Engage!
T-Bag: Wha’ do yoo mean “minor set-back”?! We have go’ us a Fed in sheep’s clothin’ out the’e an’ Ah cou’ be packin’ fo’ a cruise rah-ght now Ah’ll have yoo know.
Gretchen: Cram it, Crockett, we all want the same thing -- we’ll just get a little help from our Feng.
Mahone: I’m in no way sharing war stories to ease your mind about this.
Michael: But I’ve always found your presence so soothing, Alex. Okay, I’ll bite, what happened to your unfaltering, yet enfeebled, leader then?
Mahone: Oh, he saw us bring down the bad guys ... then he retired to his farm where he could happily run around free and stuff.
Self: Gretchen didn’t get the sixth card.
Michael: I knew it! Gosh darn it. Change of Plan! It’s now Operation: “Shut-up and Put Out” and I have to be there.
Sara: I can’t believe I’m doing this. Just remember: you must avoid all unnecessary movement and stress.
Michael: I promise to be fully focused on my Happy Place.
T-Bag: Oh, hap-pih, hap-pih day wi’ a cheh-rrih oh-n top!
Gretchen: That’s right, precious, just stay focused.
Michael: I know I don’t need to say this but I can’t once we’re in there ...
Mahone: ... we few, we dour few ...
Sucre: ... we band of cons ...
Linc: ... for we today that finally get this over with ...
Michael: ... shall be ... y’know. I hope.
Michael, Linc, Sucre & Mahone: ......
Sucre: ¡
Michael: !
Linc: ...
Michael: ~*~*~
Linc, Sucre & Mahone: !!!
Michael: ...
Scylla: ? ? ? ? ? ?
Pad-Man: !!!!
Ep. 412
Pad-Man: And what do you think of my Devilishly Devious Den of Devised Doom, Michael?
Michael: I find it rather ...
Linc, Sucre & Mahone: *Click*
Michael: ... deficient. I’d ask for my threats back. Card please.
Scylla: 01000010011110010111010001100101001000000110110101100101
Pad-Man: You can’t possibly think you’ll get away with this.
Michael: Exactly what is it in our past behavior that makes you think we don’t think that?
Linc: Hey, I’m all for ballsy exits, but why not just go back the way we came?
Michael: The way at the end of which T-Bag and Gretchen are doubtlessly patiently waiting to greet us with medals and donuts?
Gretchen: I brought the big guns!
T-Bag: Woo-man, plee-ze, this ees a place o’ bih-ness!
Gretchen: Yea-ah. Hence. The. Guns.
Michael: You’ll never guess where I am.
Sara: In The General’s office obnoxiously sitting at his desk and playing with his desk stuff in a subtle yet unmistakably insulting display of conquest. Now you guess.
Michael: About to take a hostage utilizing an ingenious mélange of a waiter and a washroom.
Sara: You’re so good at this. And thanks for lending me your Smarmy Smart-ass Smirk -- it does make it look like you’re in utter control of the situation and not about to puke out of sheer terror.
Pad-Man: Tell me what you want, what you really really want. Because I can arrange that.
Michael: You in prison. The Company destroyed. Can you arrange that, General?
Pad-Man: Ha, ha.
Lisa: Daddy, she ruined my skirt! Also, she’s holding a gun to my head.
Pad-Man: You wouldn’t! She wouldn’t! You people don’t do this!
Michael: After months of being re-arranged by you? Are you sure about that?
Pad-Man: ...
Michael: You know your tactics and their effects best, I’m sure. I wouldn’t want to presume.
Pad-Man: Fine. Leave.
Michael, Linc, Sucre, Mahone & Scylla: *Evade!*
Self: Excellent! I’ll arrange for a ride for you and all the paper you need to feel free--
Sara: And an ambulance.
Self: Another one? Sure! Why not. Bye-ee!
Special Agent “Trishanne”: I saved you, a bunch of office workers and bagged Bagwell. And I did it all in heels and a skirt. I deserve a look at that Scylla thing. And a donut. With sprinkles.
Self: You deserve so much more. *BANG!*
Special Agent “Trishanne”: Worst. Partner. Ev--
Scylla: 01010111011011110111001001100100
Ep. 413
Pad-Man: “ ... Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; / Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world--”
Scuderi: Oh, spare us the--
Pad-Man: *BANG!* “ ...The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere / The ceremony of innocence is drowned; / The best lack all conviction, while the worst / Are full of passionate intensity.”
Linc: Fight!
Sara & Sucre: Flight!
Mahone: Flightish fightish?
Michael: Fightish flightish.
T-Bag: Oh, tha’ was bee-oo-tih-ful! Ah ‘spe-shah-lih lahk tha’ bi’ when yoo--
Self: Shut-up.
T-Bag: -- double-cross’d, or is tha’ triple-cross’d--
Self: Shut.
T-Bag: --the gov’ment and Scofield all usin’ tax-pay’r mon--
Self: Up.
T-Bag: Ah get eet. Jus’ sayin’, Ah’m a bih-ihg-- no, huuuge fan of yo’ work.
Self: *Click*
T-Bag: ...
Sucre: Shut-up! We’re gonna trust Gretchen? No way.
Linc: Yeah, she’s evil, but she’s a clean mercenary evil. We know her story so we know where we stand with her.
Gretchen: So tell me the Story of Self, Don, I may be the last person who’s really interested.
Self: Bagwell.
T-Bag: *Click*
Rita: *whimper*
Gretchen: ...
Linc: ... and then our father completely abandoned us and then our mother died, so I have these deep trust issues. Also, there’s this whole thing where government agents have framed me for murder so many times I’ve lost count ... What was the question again?
Herb: Just call your brother.
Michael: Not to worry -- I have a Contingency Plan.
Sara: You have a brain tumor.
Michael: Which we’ll see to when we’re done with this. Now, I require you and Sucre to go this Very Important Location Where It Is Absolutely Vital For You To Be.
Sara: I’m still worried.
Michael: Please. It’s the safest way.
Herb: I really don’t think this particular story will make anyone feel very safe in their homes so--
“Marshal”: *BANG!*
Sucre: *Click*
Linc: *BANG!*
Senator: I’ll just scamper with dignity, shall I?
Linc: *Cli--*
Michael: Scamper away.
Sara: Oh, no you di’n’t! Did you honestly think we’d just scamper away like that?
Michael: We’re alive and ...
Sara: And?
Scylla: 001000100101001101110101011100100110010101101100011110010010000001110011011
011110110110101100101001000000111001001100101011101100110010101101100011000
01011101000110100101101111011011100010000001101001011100110010000001100001
0111010000100000011010000110000101101110011001000010001000101100001000
0001110011011101010110001101101011011001010111001000101110
Self: ...
Ep. 414
Sara: Now remember, I’m only doping you under the strict conditions that you avoid all dodging of flying projectiles, inhaling of noxious gases, dealings with noxious persons, obsessive plotting, self-medicating, scrambling up fire escapes, sliding down drain pipes, satisfyingly punching aforementioned persons in the face and dashing wildly through sun-seared streets and alleys.
Michael: Oh, definitely.
Self: *Whizz!*
Gretchen: *BANG!*
Self: Oh, c’mon, this is just business and The Buyer wants to bring down The Company as much as you do so it’s win-win.
Michael: Why didn’t you mention it before, Don? I’ll definitely consider your proposal now.
Gretchen: *Click* Don’t you just love the smell of flying projectiles in the morning?
Linc: Hey, his proposal could actually wo--
T-Bag: Wha’ kahnd o’ mon-stah do yoo tay-ke me fo’?
Rita: Yes, you’re absolutely right -- this is all just an unfortunate case of mistaken identity. Let’s try this again: Hi, I’m Rita! Emily’s mother and definitely not your terrified hostage. Pleased to meet you ...
“Cole”: ... Cole. Res-spec-t’d say-lesman.
Rita: Hi, Cole! What did you se--
“Ralph”: *Ding-dong* Hi, I’m Ralph and I’m selling Bibles!
T-Bag: Howdy, Ralph!
Lisa: Who exactly are you, Dad?
Pad-Man: You simply don’t have the balls to hear the answer, dear.
Lisa: I quit.
Sara: Maybe you should stop and let Linc finish this.
Blue Steel: NEGATIVE: FATAL IDENTIFIER ERROR.
Wheeler: We meet again, Alexander, when you left me I was the student, now I am the master.
Mahone: I’m sure you mean “Special Agent in Charge” there, Wheeler, and I’ve got just the thing to make your nameplate even shinier.
Sara: Hi, I’m looking for my sister. She’s like a cross between Xena the Warrior Princess and Elvira Mistress of the Dark -- you can’t miss her.
Concierge: Yeah, she’s up there, but remember the Golden Rule!
Sara: Oh, definitely.
Sucre: *Thwack!*
Gretchen: *Whack!*
Sara: *Shove!*
Linc: *Whizz!*
Self: *Clang-thud!*
Michael: *Smash!* *Dash!* *Crash*
Pad-Man: Braaaiiinnns.
Ep. 415
Pad-Man: Your skepticism wounds me, Doctor. “Compassion” happens to be Our watchword. I think you need to keep your heart and mind more open to the intrinsic goodness in people.
Sara: I think you need a dictionary.
Pad-Man: Virtue is its own reward. Scylla and Michael’s life are just a non-negotiable bonus.
T-Bag: Sure-lay Ah dese’ve somethin’ fo’ all mah ha’d wo--
Linc: Yeah, but you might still be useful so I’m just gonna yank some teeth until you tell me what I want to hear or you can’t talk anymore. It’s one of them win-win situations.
Sara: You have done this before, right? Because I’ve never seen this procedure before and it’s looking far too much like you’re having a cerebrum fondue.
Doctor: Oh, yes, we’ve done this before quite successfully and while there is the chance that we’ll turn his memory into Swiss cheese, I can assure you that he won’t miss the holes.
Mahone: I’ve changed my mind, Felicia, I actually do want you to feel really really really guilty about betraying my trust and turning me in.
Lang: Well, excuuu-use me for trying to keep you safe!
Michael: I’m really really really sorry, Charles!
Westmoreland: Only a higher power can judge if you deserve forgiveness.
Marilyn: You are forgiven. The Answer is 42.
Michael: But what is The Question?
Sara: Gah! Could you be more creepy?
Pad-Man: Certainly: are you doing this out of idealism or because he’s just so darn squee?
Sara: I’m on my very own mission of paternal vengeance as if you didn’t know--
Pad-Man: I probably do know, actua--
Sara: --which I’ll resolve for myself.
Westmoreland: You’ve already got it, you just don’t know that you have.
Michael’s tattoo: Psst! Over there. Yeah, I’ve missed you too, thanks for asking. Just don’t--
Michael: *flatline*
Sara: *Freak-out!*
Michael’s subconscious: SaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSara--
Michael’s tattoo: Idiot.
Gretchen: You know what this means.
Linc: No. Way. In. Hell.
Pad-Man: Your Precious for mine. That was our bargain so get to it.
Michael: Boron, Argon, Gallium and Indium.
Sara: Couldn’t it also be Boron, Argon, Gallium, Iodine and Nitrogen?
Michael: Well, yes, but that would just be silly.
Ep. 416
Pad-Man: We’re simply working on leveraging his proficiencies and maximizing his potential for the greater good. Absolutely nothing to worry about.
Sara: That’s terrific and there’s nothing that I would love more than to help you achieve world domination using a few seemingly innocuous household items and a meaningful look so why don’t you point me in the direction of our favorite recovering mastermind and I’ll let you get back to your braised kitten with dew-fresh asparagus?
Self: This is quite possibly the worst plan I’ve ever heard of.
Linc: And you are quite possibly the worst gang I’ve ever had so it should all work out.
Dr. Roger: Michael, this negative attitude is simply a by-product of your misapprehension of the situation: the Company’s not evil, but it’s working for such a great good that a negligible number of its actions can look less-than-good when taken out of context.
Michael: Yes, I see. Like: my mother didn’t betray us, she was just protecting us.
Dr. Roger: Precisely.
Michael: And I’m not a prisoner, I’m just a guest.
Dr. Roger: Exactly! So there’s absolutely no need for you to even consider escaping.
Michael: It’s safe to say, that in this context, the thought of breaking out of here has not even crossed my mind.
Gretchen: I choose you, Linc.
Linc: ...
Self: You’ve been voted off the island!
Linc: ...
T-Bag: Tha’ means yo’ fah-r’d.
Mahone: Did I miss something?
Linc: Nah. Welcome to Unreality Land, buddy.
Mahone: It’s like we never left, pal.
Lisa: I apologize for the tacky extra-ordinary rendition, but your imperiled significant other doesn’t have the time I would have required to find an acceptable waiter, some freshly made linguini Alfredo and a public washroom you’d actually want to go into.
Sara: And I should trust you because ...
Lisa: And I’d be lying because ...
Gretchen: Good news, boys and boys! I, the Great Gretchen, was right all along and know who has Scylla. It’s as impossible and preposterous as you’d expect so let’s get to work.
Pad-Man: Oh, enough of these tiresome mind games and selfless displays of devotion -- just drug him and bag him. Masterminds are simply too high maintenance!
Water heater: *Hssss-Boom!*
Michael: *Flee!*
Sara: *Crash!*
Linc: Your boy’s dead and I’m coming for you. *Click*
Christina Rose: He never did learn proper phone manners.
Ep. 417
Linc: ... for I am The Eldest and My Word is Law, you little ingrate!
Michael: Mom’s alive and Company.
Linc: Mommy?
Padre: ... a soul as black as sin resonating with the terrified screams of your victims.
T-Bag: Well, Ah nev-ah!
Michael: ... tarnishing perfectly good childhood memories -- I mean “medichlorians”! The hell?
Sara: I know, right? And Jar Jar.
Michael: Don’t even get me started.
Mahone: ... so please, please don’t put me in the position of having to kill yet another long-lost parent of yours -- I really feel it will adversely affect our budding friendship.
Linc: You’re not my mommy.
Pad-Man: ... executed in the middle of nowhere and a certain missing mythological allusion. I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that.
Christina Rose: Well, I never!
Self: ... but can we trust you to do the right thing?
Mahone: I’d ask what I did to deserve this except I know perfectly well.
Christina Rose: ... then I’ll lead the Company back to its true mission of cookie baking and unicorn grooming. I just need you to trust me, Lincoln.
Linc: Can I lick the bowl?
Christina Rose: Absolutely.
T-Bag: ... the dahlin’ li’l chi-ckees! Step as-sahde, Pah-dray.
Padre: Well, I never!
Michael: ... the General--
Goon: Please don’t insult my delicate sensibilities by assuming I operate at the behest of that crudely oppressive patriarch for mine is a gentle and nurturing-- *ooze*
Downey: ... clear shot. Your orders?
Christina Rose: He never listens. Should I have also mentioned apple pie?
NOTE FROM CellDuSoleil
I’m sorry to say that this is where I must drop the curtain for I’ve run out of fun juice and the dregs are not something I’d care to inflict upon you. You’ve been a lovely and witty audience and I loathe to disappoint.
FIN
Ep. 418
Sniper: Oh noes!
Mahone: Bang! Bang!
Linc: Smash! Ouch!
Sara: Ooh! Home drugstore!
Padman: Someone tried to BBQ me!
T-Bag: Your mama!
Mahone: You’re all idiots.
Christina: Must dress like it’s January even though it’s August.
Linc: Lil’ Bro is here.
Mahone: OMG, my MindMate! Be right there, Mikey!
Sara: Back off, Alex, he’s mine!
Ep. 419
Sandinsky: I’m a big lying liar who lies.
Michael: Except that’s the truth. Gotcha!
Linc: Must… resist… smashing…
Sara: C’mere, MacGyver.
Christina’s Flunkie: (singing) I’m just a gigolo, and everywhere I go…
Christina: Bad Mikey, bad!
The General: You clowns!
Mahone: Dammit, where’s my pen?
T-Bag: I ain’t scared of you, Three Stooges!
Christina: Is that my smugness suffocating me?
Michael: SMASH! Oops, wrong brother.
Sara: Hey, MIL – meet me and the trunk.
Mahone: Kick! Throw stuff! Go nuts!
Linc: Tell us how you really feel.
Mahone: This whole thing, it’s just crap!
Audience: We hear you, Alex!
Linc: Ooh, shiny shells!
General’s Goon: Punch!
Ep. 420
Linc: My, what a lovely view.
Michael: Wave to the nice cops, Linc!
Linc: Nah, I’ll just put my prints all over the shooter’s rifle. It’s more fun this way.
Mahone: (censored)
Michael: MindMate! Halp!
Self: I am your buddy now, Mikey.
Michael: Screw you! Gimme back my Alex!
Linc: Getting sweaty over here.
General: BALDY SMASH!
T-Bag: R-E-S-P-E-C-T!
Michael: Run! Extra-awkwardly!
Mahone: Mine, Sara! Especially now that Sucre’s out of the way.
Sara: No, mine!
Mahone: Hey, I know I promised you a dozen donuts...
Sara: Well, T-Bag called and he’s kidnapping me any minute now – so go away!
Mahone: Whatever. Mine.
Christina: Fast forward through my scenes, it’s alright. Panda? Seriously?
Linc: Getting all deep and philosophical.
Michael: WTF, dude?! Just grab that toilet paper.
Agent Apollo Whistler: I found a zombie!
Self: Dammit, this guy is too hot to live.
Curly: Kill!
General: Snark! Let’s have a lottery. No citrus fruits allowed.
Slick: Oink!
Ep. 421
Mahone: I know you want to save both but right now one has a gaping chest wound and it isn’t your significant other.
Michael: *glare*
Pad Man: You two are a pair of bleeding hearts. Very soon I’ll be king of the world once again! Wha ha ha!
Sara: It’s a shame my boyfriend didn’t have the guts to kill you in the first place *sigh*
C-Note: That dastardly Mahone got away and now the feds are on my posse.
Sucre: Who are you again?
Christina: Hello son. Now be a good boy and give your mommy the nice shiny Scylla -
Bomb 1: KA-BOOM!
Useless henchman: *BOOM*
Self: *SCREAM*
Christina: Guess who’s not going to live long enough to be an uncle?
Lincoln: *wheeze* your significant other’s pregnant with your baby so let me die knowing I finally did something for you *wheeze*
Michael/Michael’s conscious/Blue Steel: ?! ?! ?!
Christina: I NEVER WANTED TO BE A MOM! *stiletto stab*
Mahone: *glare*
Michael: *glare*
T-bag: What’s your sex life like? I want all the intimate details.
Sara: Wouldn’t you like to know.
Mahone: Good luck MindMate.
Michael: You too.
Sara: *contemptuous look*
T-bag: I AM NOT! I’LL SHOW YOU - *thud*
Metal bar: Good work! Now one more blow should finish him off. Come on, the guy’s a rapist, murderer, torturer, not to mention he was going to RAPE your pregnant girlfriend! You suck!
Sara: Ka-boom?
Michael: KA-BOOM! And I’m trying to propose and tell you I know about our baby but the words aren’t coming out right. Okay?
Sara: *nods* *hugs*
Bomb 2: Tick tock tick tock.
Ep. 422
Paul “Deus-Ex-Machina” Kellerman: Magical pardons for everybody!
T-Bag: Everybody?
Linc: Almost. Double-Mint or Juicy Fruit?
T-Bag: Hmm, I take--
Linc: Just kidding. You get Orbit.
Micheal: ... And we’ll live happily ever af-- *bleed*
Sara: *sigh* Of course.
Ep. 401
Michael: SaraSaraSaraSaraSara...
Gretchen: I didn’t kill her. Psych!
Mahone: Whistler’s actually not evil. Shocking, I know, and he’s got lotsa S-words.
Michael: Sara?
“Whistler”: Scylla. *Thud.*
Michael & Mahone: *Scamper!*
Self: Bringing down the Company is your destiny, your Fate, your Birthright ...
Michael: So not Sara?
Self: ... YOUR NOT-SPENDING-THE-NEXT-FIFTEEN-YEARS-IN-A-MAXIMUM-SECURITY-FEDERAL-PRISON!
Michael: Gosh, that’s almost a lifetime.
Self: I can’t help but feel your life goals are a bit shortsighted. Let’s ask Lincoln, shall we?
Linc: Get stuffed.
Self: C’mon, do it for your Country, you slacker.
Linc: Would this be the Country whose Government framed me for murder and whose People decided I should fry?
Self: ... Never mind. You’ve been bailed out. No, no, take that file full of highly classified original documents with you. My life is void of meaning, now. I might as well just shoot myself.
Sara: Guess who.
Michael: Wait, I know this one.
Sara: As much as I adore your origami and undying devotion, I think it would be really therapeutic for me to see the Company brought down.
Michael: Linc, saddle up.
Linc: Yo.
Self: Score! Whadda ya need?
Michael: A posse.
Self: Check.
Michael: ... and some cathartic sustained physical pain.
Self: Check.
Michael’s tattoo: It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done. You bast--
Ep. 402
Michael: Here’s the Plan: 1) all squabbling ends right now -- the last thing we need is repressed issues ambushing us at the most inopportune moment, and 2) we get the thing from the place for the guy.
Mahone: Fine.
Roland: Good plan.
Linc: Shut-up.
Sara: *Meltdown*
Michael: Commence Operation: “Sucre’s Puerto Rican”.
Roland: Nada, genius.
Linc: Shut-up.
Michael: I need a clue.
Sara: It’s from Odysseus.
Michael: Like: “Though much is taken, much abides; and though we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; one equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield”?
Sara: No, that’s Ulysses, but you’re close.
Michael: Commence Operation:”Trojan Maid”.
Roland: Oooh, so close yet so far.
Linc: Shut-up.
Michael: Let’s just break-in.
Mahone: *Meltdown*
Roland: ...
Linc: What?
Roland: You’re not gonna like it.
Linc: That goes without saying.
Roland: This is only part of it. There are more of these cards.
Sara: Scylla. Six soldiers. Six cards. This is going to take forever and probably even more classical tragedy.
Michael: *Meltdown*
Linc: You okay?
Michael: “The past tempts us, the present confuses us, the future frightens us. And our lives slip away, moment by moment, lost in that vast terrible in-between.”
Linc: Was that another clue?
Michael: I’m fine.
Ep. 403
Self: You got the card? Already? Wow. What oth-- I mean: GET BACK IN THERE AND GET THE OTHER FOUR-
Michael: FIVE!
Self: -FIVE CARDS! FAILURE IS NOT AN OPTION!
Herb: I’m pulling the plug on this.
Self: But we’re actually getting results!
Herb: Homeland Security, son, is about homey security -- not “getting results”.
Michael: Success is the only option. No one is to speak unless he’s got a solution, or the sound of her voice gives me tingles of delight.
Sara: I don’t get it.
Mahone: It’s a code.
Michael: Excellent.
Roland: But I don’t wanna go to Disneyland!
Michael: Linc.
Linc: *Thwack*
Roland: But I don’t wanna suffocate!
Michael: Linc.
Linc: *SMASH!*
Sucre’s text: “Dear Michael, Long was the day and boorish was the company as our conveyance was surrounded by a veritable bevy of rather excitable agents of our fair land. I suggest, respectfully, that you and your familiars make, posthaste, as the speeding cheetahs over the savannah lest you become the fleeing gazelles. The weather continues to be fine. Hoping this finds you better than it leaves me, your friend and ex-comrade-in-incarceration, Fernando Alejandro Bernadino Santa-Maria Sucre”
Michael: Linc.
Linc: *Evade!*
Self: You’re just delaying the inevitable. Give up.
Michael: Here’s a video of the rest of the card-holders.
Self: Wow. I mean: GET BACK IN THERE AND GET ME THOSE CARDS!
Mahone: *Meltdown*
Michael: Linc?
Linc: On it.
Ep. 404
Linc: Free parking, hot wife -- I wanna be a diplomat.
Michael: The wife’s the card-holder.
Linc: Eh, pass, but I could totally be diplomatic.
T-Bag: *Flee!* ... -Urk!
Linc: WHERE’S THE BIRD BOOK, YOU PILE OF HUMAN-SHAPED EXCREMENT?
T-Bag: Weeeell gosh-darn-diggity-doodah, Prih-tty an’ Puce! Ah hav’n’t got the foggiest, bu’ let us lee-ver-rage ou’ competencies outta the sah-ghts o’ the law.
Lisa: Why don’t I just leave now?
Pad-Man: Style, m’dear. You’ll depart in a seemly manner when the kip’s at fifteen, the word of the day is “weevil” and Paris Hilton’s blood alcohol is exactly 0.28756. We can covertly control every aspect of the lives of billions, but if We don’t have style ...
Lisa: ... We might as well be Pfizer. Understood. Kiss-noise!
Sara: I killed Bruce!
Michael: You didn’t kill him -- The Company did. It’s not your fault.
Sara: Just like it wouldn’t have been your fault if They’d killed me?
Michael: That’s different -- you wouldn’t have been here to tell me it wasn’t my fault.
Mahone: So the only time we’ll have access to our target will be in a really large room full of grieving cops hellbent on righteous retribution.
Michael: We’ll fit right in. Commence operation: “Thin Blue Lie”.
Michael, Linc & Sucre: *Steal!*
Michael, Linc & Mahone: *Subterfuge*
Bellick & Linc: *Stab!*
Michael: *Sniff*
Lisa: Hanky?
Michael: Thank you.
Self: You definitely get points for style, Scofield.
Michael: Eh, pass, but I could do with a final break-in plan.
Ep. 405
Self: Hey, I know that guy!
Michael: Great. Pay him a visit.
Self: How?
Michael: With cake.
Sara: Some scary guy was tailing me but I lost him using a couple of semis, a softball team and some shrubbery.
Mahone: This guy?
Sara: That guy.
Michael: LA really is a small town -- everyone knows everyone else and approximately half of them want us dead. Still, that which does not kill us ...
Mahone: ... has made its last mistake.
Self: There’s no way you guys--
Michael: You’ll get us in through the garage.
Self: And that safe is--
Linc: Drill.
Self: Which will make--
Michael: Vacuum.
Self: I’m not--
Michael: Commence operation: “Misters Clean”.
Sucre & Bellick: *VACUUM!*
Michael & Linc: *DRILL!*
Linc: Wanna talk inconvenient nose bleeds, how convenient it is that your significant other’s a doctor and how logical it would be to tell her?
Michael: No. And neither do you.
Pad-Man: Card check!
Michael & Linc: ...
Oren: But I can assure you, sir, most eloquently that I am the very model of a modern Major Card-holder, and this lack of confidence in my--
Michael & Linc: *Drill!*
Pad-Man: Just. Show. Me. The. Card.
Sara: ... They’re mucking up the delicate socio-economic balance of Laos andIwasatabarbutdidn’tswallow.
Michael: I though it was narcotics. With you. Not Laos.
Sara: It is whatever’s convenient and omission is a lie -- I don’t care what Spock says -- and I don’t want to lie to you.
Michael: I could end it right now, just say--
Sara: No. I don’t want my weakness to jeopardize our only chance at a real life.
Michael: Your logic is flawless.
Ep. 406
Mahone: You gotta go. Now.
Michael: But Operation: “Hats, Horses & Clea--”
Mahone: Yeah, well, thanks to some complete media-sleeper plastering your photogenic mug all over the news not too long ago, those cops are gonna recognize you -- distracting hats, horses and cleavage notwithstanding. If I every get my hands on that guy ...
Cop: Hey!
Mahone: *Thwack!*
Michael: Get him out.
Self: I can’t be the bail-out guy every time you guys screw-up.
Sucre: I’m not gonna be the next guy to selflessly sacrifice himself for the team.
Linc: Well, we can’t sacrifice the team for the guy whose first reaction to any problem is throwing a punch then ending up with his ass in the slammer and requiring insanely dangerous and complicated, yet infuriatingly understated, measures to get him out.
Michael: Which guy am I?
Sara: Which do you think?
Mahone: I don’t want to be that guy.
Michael: Me neither.
Sucre: Five ... four ... three .....
Wyatt: *Stalk*
Sucre: .... two .......
Mahone: *Glare*
Sucre: .... one and five-eighth ....
Wyatt: *Sneer*
Sucre: .... one and a half ....
Mahone: *Fl--*
Sucre: ... one!
Linc: Finally.
Michael: *Zap!*
Team Escarpara: *Flee!*
Mahone: You guys ...
Dear Patrons and Misc.,
We apologize for the delay in this week’s performance -- the Finger-puppets assure us that’s it’s not so much a case of not know where to start but rather having no idea where, or indeed how, to stop. They insist they’ll have it in a day or two once they stop randomly yelling things like “Georgia O’Keeffe”, giggling hysterically and falling over.
Your guess is as good as ours,
The Management
Ep. 407
T-Bag: So whe’e do you fi’ een-to all thih-s, darlin’?
Gretchen: It’s a bit complicated -- I’ll just draw you an explanatory diagram.
Michael: Let’s make this as painless as possible: Linc, Sara, Sucre and Roland are on Operation: “Ocean’s Four”--
Roland: WHOOOOO!
Sucre: Shut-up.
Michael: ... and Alex, Bellick and myself will take Operation: “Bird in the Hand”. Any questions?
T-Bag: Wha’ haay-ve Ah caugh’ mah-self?
Michael: Could we, just this once, dispense with the display of creeptastic phantasmagoria that you think of as “people skills” and skip right to the part where you submit to my Plan?
T-Bag: Bu’, Prih-tty, Ah’ve been ree-hearsin’ a veh-rih speci’l perfoh-mance of mah Moh-noh-logues just fo’ you!
Mahone: *Flee!*
Michael: Do tell.
Linc: I hate Vegas.
Sara: You? Hate Vegas? Spill, Linc.
Linc: Nothing.
Sara: And?
Linc: Michael’s fine and he sent me -- and you -- here.
Sara: ... I hate Vegas.
T-Bag: You do work fast when moh-tih-vay-t’ted, Prih-tty. Ahd-mih-t it, yoh’ een it fo’ the mo-ney. Jus’ Lahk. Mee.
Michael: It’s pointless to deny that, as always, my motives are entirely transparent to you, Theodore.
Pad-Man: ... what do you mean you lost him?
Self: General Kurtz.
Pad-Man: Actually it’s “Krans”, Agent Self.
Self: Whatever. Off me and you’ll be buried in paperwork -- piles and piles of boring, irrelevant, futile paperwork. You won’t be able to even think about Laos through the tears of frustration.
Pad-Man: You’re hired.
Self: Pass -- I’ve met your Human Resources department.
Roland: Gimme details, Sugar-man!
Sucre: I’ll just leave it in Vegas and to your imagination. Oh, and: shut-up.
T-Bag: And what’s yo’ Great Plan, now, Prih-tty?
Michael: What it’s always been.
Mahone: *Thwack!* *Slam!*
Self: That was amazingly painless.
Roland: *Meep!*
Gretchen: Hello, Michael.
Ep. 408
Gretchen: Just think of it as a case of my enemy’s enemy--
Michael: --isn’t my primary objective ... yet.
Roland: It was a mistake! A tiny, little moment of weakness!
Michael: Shut-up!
Sara: Linc tells me you’re fine.
Michael: Yeah, well, Linc’s overly protective and far too sensitive! And, frankly, a blabbermouth! Also, Gretchen’s alive and working with us. And T-Bag. Are you okay?
Sara: ... Fine.
Self: I don’t believe it.
Michael: No, really, that’s Operation: “Crash”. We’re going to need an ambulance.
Self: No problem. Would you like fries with that?
Michael: No. Just some drugs and three extremely unflattering EMT uniforms.
Self: I’d ask, but then I’d have to know.
T-Bag: Ah’ have yoo know, darlin’, tha’ Ah can be quah-te the stihck-lah fo’ accountin’.
Gretchen: Oh, relax, Bagwell. I can assure you that you’re everything I look for in a man and that you’ll definitely be getting your cut.
Linc: We good to go?
Michael: Yeah.
Roland: *txt!*
Wyatt: *BANG!*
Sara: You’re going to be fine, Fernando.
Sucre: ¡Madre de Dios!
Sara: No, really, I’ve had plenty of experience in trauma. Surgery.
Sucre: Oh, that’s cool then. Run along and give that rat hell, guys!
Wyatt: Boo.
Roland: *meep!*
Mahone: *WHACK! Thwack! SmashsmashSMASH!*
Linc: Whoa, Alex! No. Kill. ... Yet.
Roland: I don’t wanna die.
Michael: I hear you.
Pad-Man: I don’t want to hear any more updates! Those bastards aren’t just after my life -- they’re after MY CARD!
Ep. 409
Sucre: Wow, this place is ...
Michael: ... atmospherically reminiscent of the subterranean lair of some nameless and ancient evil yet possessing, in actuality, an industrial functionalism that is all the more unnerving in its banality? Are you coming?
Sucre: To hell and back, bro. I just wish someone had told me it had so many entrances.
Sara: “All” and “dead”. Check. Now, can you talk to me about some sort of resolution or achievement?
Wyatt: I do know People. Just let me go and it could be all over for you.
Sara: Bingo.
Bellick: Does anyone want to hear ‘bout my dawning realization that my life so far has been a pathetic string of pointless petty cruelties and that given the choice between dying a coward and dying a hero, I choo--
Linc: Focus, Brad. Let’s just get this over with.
Self: Good talking, Sara, let’s make with the walking.
Sara: Bu--
Self: Think of it as therapeutic closure.
Mahone: How do you feel about holistic medicine?
Wyatt: I’m partial to aromatherapy.
Mahone: Really? I prefer acupuncture.
Sucre: You, my friend, are in need of medical attention.
Michael: I’m in need of getting through that pipe. Please.
Sucre: Yeah, yeah.
Michael: You rock. I’m so glad there’s two of you right now.
Gretchen: *Meow!*
Lisa: *HISS!*
Pad-Man: Girls, girls, please, I am flexible enough to provide coverage for everyone.
Sucre: Linc! Brad! You’re back! Things are starting to get--
Water: *GUSH!*
Bellick: You shall pass!
Linc: NO!
Wyatt: *Splash*
Pad-Man: Things are starting to get back to normal. Excellent.
Ep. 410
Mahone: So that’s the code hidden in the blueprints hidden in the bird book.
Michael: How original. Commence Opera-- *thud*
Self: Aw c’mon, shake it off -- we’ve got an evil conspiracy to take down!
Michael: I’m okay! Operation ... y’know ... “Whatchamacallit” is more important.
Mahone: Don’t worry about it -- I’ll take care of Operation: “Baber Dav1d”.
Linc: And Sucre and me’ll take Operation: “And a Hard Place”.
Sara: And we’ll take Operation: “Operation” while Donald sees to Operation: “Shut the Hell Up, Moronic Government Minion”.
Trishanne: Ha! Ha! No need to wonder ‘bout li’l ole me! I’m just a random temp who inadvertently fell into this mess and was, for some mysterious reason, allowed to remain in it as your Girl Friday by an agent of the Department of Homeland Security despite my being a completely innocent and untrained civilian and you being ... you. Sir.
T-Bag: Tha’ is fun-ny now tha’ yoo men-tion it. Ha. Ha.
David Baker: This is my Plan for the Perfectly Proportionally Powered Place of Perfection. It’ll be a Utopia for Everyone, not just the rich and powerful Thems because that would be elitist and wrong.
Mahone: And Scylla was?
David Baker: My Devilishly Devious Den of Devised Doom.
Land-mine: Beep!
Sucre: *Meep!*
Mahone: We need to upgrade it to Needlessly Nefarious but can’t figure out the blueprints.
David Baker: Haven’t you read the legend?
Mahone: Yeah, it’s a real bitch the way Odysseus is made to wander through all those weird and horrific places and make so many sacrifices at the whims of the gods before he can return home to his wife.
David Baker: You’re not Company.
Mahone: Am too, but recovering. It’s been almost a whole day since I tortured and killed anyone and that was personal. Oh, cra--
Sucre: Aaaah!
Michael: --ap. We’re moving.
Neurologist: Going somewhere? Please, it wasn’t exactly brain surgery to see through your clever disguises, and I’m not going to turn you in, but--
Michael: Great. Thanks. Bye.
Sara: Call us!
Mahone: Don’t touch that beeping land-mine!
Gretchen: And what the beep do you suggest we do?
Mahone: I’ll just push this here button and Sucre will have about 19 seconds to agonize about it and 1 second to step off although it’ll probably feel more like 3 minutes.
Linc: When will you know?
Michael: Preferably never -- probably any second now. Bring on the next impossibility.
Sara: You need brain surgery immediately or It’ll kill you.
Michael: Can’t It take a number and line-up behind Gretchen? I’m sure they’ll have a lot to talk about and I’ve got a Devilishly Devious Den of Devised Doom to crack.
Ep. 411
Michael: But I don’t wanna have brain surgery! Can we please get back to Operation--
Linc & Sara: Shut-up!
Michael: ... Yeah. Okay. Fine.
Sara: Really?
Linc: As long as we’ve got a Plan for Scylla. Gretchen’s hooking the sixth card.
Sara: That would be Operation ...
T-Bag: “... appalling, depraved, loathsome, deplorable, contemptible, monstrous, nauseating, abhorrent, despicable, debased, wicked, sickening, repulsive, unpleasant, atrocious, odious, heinous and nasty.” Ah could go on.
Trishanne: And on, and yet, I’m still not losing my jacket for you -- it’s a wool blend so my dry cleaner would have a fit and a good one is so hard to find.
Michael: Good, so to breach that wall we’re going to need to generate an ... uhm ... y’know ... like a strong attractive force ...
Linc, Sara, Sucre & Mahone: ...
Mahone: Auxiliary Mastermind Sub-system: Engage!
T-Bag: Wha’ do yoo mean “minor set-back”?! We have go’ us a Fed in sheep’s clothin’ out the’e an’ Ah cou’ be packin’ fo’ a cruise rah-ght now Ah’ll have yoo know.
Gretchen: Cram it, Crockett, we all want the same thing -- we’ll just get a little help from our Feng.
Mahone: I’m in no way sharing war stories to ease your mind about this.
Michael: But I’ve always found your presence so soothing, Alex. Okay, I’ll bite, what happened to your unfaltering, yet enfeebled, leader then?
Mahone: Oh, he saw us bring down the bad guys ... then he retired to his farm where he could happily run around free and stuff.
Self: Gretchen didn’t get the sixth card.
Michael: I knew it! Gosh darn it. Change of Plan! It’s now Operation: “Shut-up and Put Out” and I have to be there.
Sara: I can’t believe I’m doing this. Just remember: you must avoid all unnecessary movement and stress.
Michael: I promise to be fully focused on my Happy Place.
T-Bag: Oh, hap-pih, hap-pih day wi’ a cheh-rrih oh-n top!
Gretchen: That’s right, precious, just stay focused.
Michael: I know I don’t need to say this but I can’t once we’re in there ...
Mahone: ... we few, we dour few ...
Sucre: ... we band of cons ...
Linc: ... for we today that finally get this over with ...
Michael: ... shall be ... y’know. I hope.
Michael, Linc, Sucre & Mahone: ......
Sucre: ¡
Michael: !
Linc: ...
Michael: ~*~*~
Linc, Sucre & Mahone: !!!
Michael: ...
Scylla: ? ? ? ? ? ?
Pad-Man: !!!!
Ep. 412
Pad-Man: And what do you think of my Devilishly Devious Den of Devised Doom, Michael?
Michael: I find it rather ...
Linc, Sucre & Mahone: *Click*
Michael: ... deficient. I’d ask for my threats back. Card please.
Scylla: 01000010011110010111010001100101001000000110110101100101
Pad-Man: You can’t possibly think you’ll get away with this.
Michael: Exactly what is it in our past behavior that makes you think we don’t think that?
Linc: Hey, I’m all for ballsy exits, but why not just go back the way we came?
Michael: The way at the end of which T-Bag and Gretchen are doubtlessly patiently waiting to greet us with medals and donuts?
Gretchen: I brought the big guns!
T-Bag: Woo-man, plee-ze, this ees a place o’ bih-ness!
Gretchen: Yea-ah. Hence. The. Guns.
Michael: You’ll never guess where I am.
Sara: In The General’s office obnoxiously sitting at his desk and playing with his desk stuff in a subtle yet unmistakably insulting display of conquest. Now you guess.
Michael: About to take a hostage utilizing an ingenious mélange of a waiter and a washroom.
Sara: You’re so good at this. And thanks for lending me your Smarmy Smart-ass Smirk -- it does make it look like you’re in utter control of the situation and not about to puke out of sheer terror.
Pad-Man: Tell me what you want, what you really really want. Because I can arrange that.
Michael: You in prison. The Company destroyed. Can you arrange that, General?
Pad-Man: Ha, ha.
Lisa: Daddy, she ruined my skirt! Also, she’s holding a gun to my head.
Pad-Man: You wouldn’t! She wouldn’t! You people don’t do this!
Michael: After months of being re-arranged by you? Are you sure about that?
Pad-Man: ...
Michael: You know your tactics and their effects best, I’m sure. I wouldn’t want to presume.
Pad-Man: Fine. Leave.
Michael, Linc, Sucre, Mahone & Scylla: *Evade!*
Self: Excellent! I’ll arrange for a ride for you and all the paper you need to feel free--
Sara: And an ambulance.
Self: Another one? Sure! Why not. Bye-ee!
Special Agent “Trishanne”: I saved you, a bunch of office workers and bagged Bagwell. And I did it all in heels and a skirt. I deserve a look at that Scylla thing. And a donut. With sprinkles.
Self: You deserve so much more. *BANG!*
Special Agent “Trishanne”: Worst. Partner. Ev--
Scylla: 01010111011011110111001001100100
Ep. 413
Pad-Man: “ ... Things fall apart; the center cannot hold; / Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world--”
Scuderi: Oh, spare us the--
Pad-Man: *BANG!* “ ...The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere / The ceremony of innocence is drowned; / The best lack all conviction, while the worst / Are full of passionate intensity.”
Linc: Fight!
Sara & Sucre: Flight!
Mahone: Flightish fightish?
Michael: Fightish flightish.
T-Bag: Oh, tha’ was bee-oo-tih-ful! Ah ‘spe-shah-lih lahk tha’ bi’ when yoo--
Self: Shut-up.
T-Bag: -- double-cross’d, or is tha’ triple-cross’d--
Self: Shut.
T-Bag: --the gov’ment and Scofield all usin’ tax-pay’r mon--
Self: Up.
T-Bag: Ah get eet. Jus’ sayin’, Ah’m a bih-ihg-- no, huuuge fan of yo’ work.
Self: *Click*
T-Bag: ...
Sucre: Shut-up! We’re gonna trust Gretchen? No way.
Linc: Yeah, she’s evil, but she’s a clean mercenary evil. We know her story so we know where we stand with her.
Gretchen: So tell me the Story of Self, Don, I may be the last person who’s really interested.
Self: Bagwell.
T-Bag: *Click*
Rita: *whimper*
Gretchen: ...
Linc: ... and then our father completely abandoned us and then our mother died, so I have these deep trust issues. Also, there’s this whole thing where government agents have framed me for murder so many times I’ve lost count ... What was the question again?
Herb: Just call your brother.
Michael: Not to worry -- I have a Contingency Plan.
Sara: You have a brain tumor.
Michael: Which we’ll see to when we’re done with this. Now, I require you and Sucre to go this Very Important Location Where It Is Absolutely Vital For You To Be.
Sara: I’m still worried.
Michael: Please. It’s the safest way.
Herb: I really don’t think this particular story will make anyone feel very safe in their homes so--
“Marshal”: *BANG!*
Sucre: *Click*
Linc: *BANG!*
Senator: I’ll just scamper with dignity, shall I?
Linc: *Cli--*
Michael: Scamper away.
Sara: Oh, no you di’n’t! Did you honestly think we’d just scamper away like that?
Michael: We’re alive and ...
Sara: And?
Scylla: 001000100101001101110101011100100110010101101100011110010010000001110011011
011110110110101100101001000000111001001100101011101100110010101101100011000
01011101000110100101101111011011100010000001101001011100110010000001100001
0111010000100000011010000110000101101110011001000010001000101100001000
0001110011011101010110001101101011011001010111001000101110
Self: ...
Ep. 414
Sara: Now remember, I’m only doping you under the strict conditions that you avoid all dodging of flying projectiles, inhaling of noxious gases, dealings with noxious persons, obsessive plotting, self-medicating, scrambling up fire escapes, sliding down drain pipes, satisfyingly punching aforementioned persons in the face and dashing wildly through sun-seared streets and alleys.
Michael: Oh, definitely.
Self: *Whizz!*
Gretchen: *BANG!*
Self: Oh, c’mon, this is just business and The Buyer wants to bring down The Company as much as you do so it’s win-win.
Michael: Why didn’t you mention it before, Don? I’ll definitely consider your proposal now.
Gretchen: *Click* Don’t you just love the smell of flying projectiles in the morning?
Linc: Hey, his proposal could actually wo--
T-Bag: Wha’ kahnd o’ mon-stah do yoo tay-ke me fo’?
Rita: Yes, you’re absolutely right -- this is all just an unfortunate case of mistaken identity. Let’s try this again: Hi, I’m Rita! Emily’s mother and definitely not your terrified hostage. Pleased to meet you ...
“Cole”: ... Cole. Res-spec-t’d say-lesman.
Rita: Hi, Cole! What did you se--
“Ralph”: *Ding-dong* Hi, I’m Ralph and I’m selling Bibles!
T-Bag: Howdy, Ralph!
Lisa: Who exactly are you, Dad?
Pad-Man: You simply don’t have the balls to hear the answer, dear.
Lisa: I quit.
Sara: Maybe you should stop and let Linc finish this.
Blue Steel: NEGATIVE: FATAL IDENTIFIER ERROR.
Wheeler: We meet again, Alexander, when you left me I was the student, now I am the master.
Mahone: I’m sure you mean “Special Agent in Charge” there, Wheeler, and I’ve got just the thing to make your nameplate even shinier.
Sara: Hi, I’m looking for my sister. She’s like a cross between Xena the Warrior Princess and Elvira Mistress of the Dark -- you can’t miss her.
Concierge: Yeah, she’s up there, but remember the Golden Rule!
Sara: Oh, definitely.
Sucre: *Thwack!*
Gretchen: *Whack!*
Sara: *Shove!*
Linc: *Whizz!*
Self: *Clang-thud!*
Michael: *Smash!* *Dash!* *Crash*
Pad-Man: Braaaiiinnns.
Ep. 415
Pad-Man: Your skepticism wounds me, Doctor. “Compassion” happens to be Our watchword. I think you need to keep your heart and mind more open to the intrinsic goodness in people.
Sara: I think you need a dictionary.
Pad-Man: Virtue is its own reward. Scylla and Michael’s life are just a non-negotiable bonus.
T-Bag: Sure-lay Ah dese’ve somethin’ fo’ all mah ha’d wo--
Linc: Yeah, but you might still be useful so I’m just gonna yank some teeth until you tell me what I want to hear or you can’t talk anymore. It’s one of them win-win situations.
Sara: You have done this before, right? Because I’ve never seen this procedure before and it’s looking far too much like you’re having a cerebrum fondue.
Doctor: Oh, yes, we’ve done this before quite successfully and while there is the chance that we’ll turn his memory into Swiss cheese, I can assure you that he won’t miss the holes.
Mahone: I’ve changed my mind, Felicia, I actually do want you to feel really really really guilty about betraying my trust and turning me in.
Lang: Well, excuuu-use me for trying to keep you safe!
Michael: I’m really really really sorry, Charles!
Westmoreland: Only a higher power can judge if you deserve forgiveness.
Marilyn: You are forgiven. The Answer is 42.
Michael: But what is The Question?
Sara: Gah! Could you be more creepy?
Pad-Man: Certainly: are you doing this out of idealism or because he’s just so darn squee?
Sara: I’m on my very own mission of paternal vengeance as if you didn’t know--
Pad-Man: I probably do know, actua--
Sara: --which I’ll resolve for myself.
Westmoreland: You’ve already got it, you just don’t know that you have.
Michael’s tattoo: Psst! Over there. Yeah, I’ve missed you too, thanks for asking. Just don’t--
Michael: *flatline*
Sara: *Freak-out!*
Michael’s subconscious: SaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSaraSara--
Michael’s tattoo: Idiot.
Gretchen: You know what this means.
Linc: No. Way. In. Hell.
Pad-Man: Your Precious for mine. That was our bargain so get to it.
Michael: Boron, Argon, Gallium and Indium.
Sara: Couldn’t it also be Boron, Argon, Gallium, Iodine and Nitrogen?
Michael: Well, yes, but that would just be silly.
Ep. 416
Pad-Man: We’re simply working on leveraging his proficiencies and maximizing his potential for the greater good. Absolutely nothing to worry about.
Sara: That’s terrific and there’s nothing that I would love more than to help you achieve world domination using a few seemingly innocuous household items and a meaningful look so why don’t you point me in the direction of our favorite recovering mastermind and I’ll let you get back to your braised kitten with dew-fresh asparagus?
Self: This is quite possibly the worst plan I’ve ever heard of.
Linc: And you are quite possibly the worst gang I’ve ever had so it should all work out.
Dr. Roger: Michael, this negative attitude is simply a by-product of your misapprehension of the situation: the Company’s not evil, but it’s working for such a great good that a negligible number of its actions can look less-than-good when taken out of context.
Michael: Yes, I see. Like: my mother didn’t betray us, she was just protecting us.
Dr. Roger: Precisely.
Michael: And I’m not a prisoner, I’m just a guest.
Dr. Roger: Exactly! So there’s absolutely no need for you to even consider escaping.
Michael: It’s safe to say, that in this context, the thought of breaking out of here has not even crossed my mind.
Gretchen: I choose you, Linc.
Linc: ...
Self: You’ve been voted off the island!
Linc: ...
T-Bag: Tha’ means yo’ fah-r’d.
Mahone: Did I miss something?
Linc: Nah. Welcome to Unreality Land, buddy.
Mahone: It’s like we never left, pal.
Lisa: I apologize for the tacky extra-ordinary rendition, but your imperiled significant other doesn’t have the time I would have required to find an acceptable waiter, some freshly made linguini Alfredo and a public washroom you’d actually want to go into.
Sara: And I should trust you because ...
Lisa: And I’d be lying because ...
Gretchen: Good news, boys and boys! I, the Great Gretchen, was right all along and know who has Scylla. It’s as impossible and preposterous as you’d expect so let’s get to work.
Pad-Man: Oh, enough of these tiresome mind games and selfless displays of devotion -- just drug him and bag him. Masterminds are simply too high maintenance!
Water heater: *Hssss-Boom!*
Michael: *Flee!*
Sara: *Crash!*
Linc: Your boy’s dead and I’m coming for you. *Click*
Christina Rose: He never did learn proper phone manners.
Ep. 417
Linc: ... for I am The Eldest and My Word is Law, you little ingrate!
Michael: Mom’s alive and Company.
Linc: Mommy?
Padre: ... a soul as black as sin resonating with the terrified screams of your victims.
T-Bag: Well, Ah nev-ah!
Michael: ... tarnishing perfectly good childhood memories -- I mean “medichlorians”! The hell?
Sara: I know, right? And Jar Jar.
Michael: Don’t even get me started.
Mahone: ... so please, please don’t put me in the position of having to kill yet another long-lost parent of yours -- I really feel it will adversely affect our budding friendship.
Linc: You’re not my mommy.
Pad-Man: ... executed in the middle of nowhere and a certain missing mythological allusion. I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that.
Christina Rose: Well, I never!
Self: ... but can we trust you to do the right thing?
Mahone: I’d ask what I did to deserve this except I know perfectly well.
Christina Rose: ... then I’ll lead the Company back to its true mission of cookie baking and unicorn grooming. I just need you to trust me, Lincoln.
Linc: Can I lick the bowl?
Christina Rose: Absolutely.
T-Bag: ... the dahlin’ li’l chi-ckees! Step as-sahde, Pah-dray.
Padre: Well, I never!
Michael: ... the General--
Goon: Please don’t insult my delicate sensibilities by assuming I operate at the behest of that crudely oppressive patriarch for mine is a gentle and nurturing-- *ooze*
Downey: ... clear shot. Your orders?
Christina Rose: He never listens. Should I have also mentioned apple pie?
NOTE FROM CellDuSoleil
I’m sorry to say that this is where I must drop the curtain for I’ve run out of fun juice and the dregs are not something I’d care to inflict upon you. You’ve been a lovely and witty audience and I loathe to disappoint.
FIN
Ep. 418
Sniper: Oh noes!
Mahone: Bang! Bang!
Linc: Smash! Ouch!
Sara: Ooh! Home drugstore!
Padman: Someone tried to BBQ me!
T-Bag: Your mama!
Mahone: You’re all idiots.
Christina: Must dress like it’s January even though it’s August.
Linc: Lil’ Bro is here.
Mahone: OMG, my MindMate! Be right there, Mikey!
Sara: Back off, Alex, he’s mine!
Ep. 419
Sandinsky: I’m a big lying liar who lies.
Michael: Except that’s the truth. Gotcha!
Linc: Must… resist… smashing…
Sara: C’mere, MacGyver.
Christina’s Flunkie: (singing) I’m just a gigolo, and everywhere I go…
Christina: Bad Mikey, bad!
The General: You clowns!
Mahone: Dammit, where’s my pen?
T-Bag: I ain’t scared of you, Three Stooges!
Christina: Is that my smugness suffocating me?
Michael: SMASH! Oops, wrong brother.
Sara: Hey, MIL – meet me and the trunk.
Mahone: Kick! Throw stuff! Go nuts!
Linc: Tell us how you really feel.
Mahone: This whole thing, it’s just crap!
Audience: We hear you, Alex!
Linc: Ooh, shiny shells!
General’s Goon: Punch!
Ep. 420
Linc: My, what a lovely view.
Michael: Wave to the nice cops, Linc!
Linc: Nah, I’ll just put my prints all over the shooter’s rifle. It’s more fun this way.
Mahone: (censored)
Michael: MindMate! Halp!
Self: I am your buddy now, Mikey.
Michael: Screw you! Gimme back my Alex!
Linc: Getting sweaty over here.
General: BALDY SMASH!
T-Bag: R-E-S-P-E-C-T!
Michael: Run! Extra-awkwardly!
Mahone: Mine, Sara! Especially now that Sucre’s out of the way.
Sara: No, mine!
Mahone: Hey, I know I promised you a dozen donuts...
Sara: Well, T-Bag called and he’s kidnapping me any minute now – so go away!
Mahone: Whatever. Mine.
Christina: Fast forward through my scenes, it’s alright. Panda? Seriously?
Linc: Getting all deep and philosophical.
Michael: WTF, dude?! Just grab that toilet paper.
Agent Apollo Whistler: I found a zombie!
Self: Dammit, this guy is too hot to live.
Curly: Kill!
General: Snark! Let’s have a lottery. No citrus fruits allowed.
Slick: Oink!
Ep. 421
Mahone: I know you want to save both but right now one has a gaping chest wound and it isn’t your significant other.
Michael: *glare*
Pad Man: You two are a pair of bleeding hearts. Very soon I’ll be king of the world once again! Wha ha ha!
Sara: It’s a shame my boyfriend didn’t have the guts to kill you in the first place *sigh*
C-Note: That dastardly Mahone got away and now the feds are on my posse.
Sucre: Who are you again?
Christina: Hello son. Now be a good boy and give your mommy the nice shiny Scylla -
Bomb 1: KA-BOOM!
Useless henchman: *BOOM*
Self: *SCREAM*
Christina: Guess who’s not going to live long enough to be an uncle?
Lincoln: *wheeze* your significant other’s pregnant with your baby so let me die knowing I finally did something for you *wheeze*
Michael/Michael’s conscious/Blue Steel: ?! ?! ?!
Christina: I NEVER WANTED TO BE A MOM! *stiletto stab*
Mahone: *glare*
Michael: *glare*
T-bag: What’s your sex life like? I want all the intimate details.
Sara: Wouldn’t you like to know.
Mahone: Good luck MindMate.
Michael: You too.
Sara: *contemptuous look*
T-bag: I AM NOT! I’LL SHOW YOU - *thud*
Metal bar: Good work! Now one more blow should finish him off. Come on, the guy’s a rapist, murderer, torturer, not to mention he was going to RAPE your pregnant girlfriend! You suck!
Sara: Ka-boom?
Michael: KA-BOOM! And I’m trying to propose and tell you I know about our baby but the words aren’t coming out right. Okay?
Sara: *nods* *hugs*
Bomb 2: Tick tock tick tock.
Ep. 422
Paul “Deus-Ex-Machina” Kellerman: Magical pardons for everybody!
T-Bag: Everybody?
Linc: Almost. Double-Mint or Juicy Fruit?
T-Bag: Hmm, I take--
Linc: Just kidding. You get Orbit.
Micheal: ... And we’ll live happily ever af-- *bleed*
Sara: *sigh* Of course.
