Post by forumfish on May 22, 2009 21:32:59 GMT -5
Author: CelleDuSoleil
Ep. 201
Wheeler: ... and that’s what happened.
Mahone: Oh, good -- a challenge. It might even take until lunch to catch ‘em. Now, what’s a four-letter word for “to make sharper, more focussed”?
Wheeler: Sir?
Mahone: No, that’s three letters.
Michael: Utah, Mexico, Panama. It’ll be easy.
Linc: We still need help. Veronica could--
Michael: a) We’ve ruined her li-- uhm, she can’t help us and b) sub-clause viii) I’ve got a contingency Plan conveniently tattooed on my wrist and not somewhere else on my person that’s normally covered and hard to reach for just such an eventuality.
Linc: You think of everything.
Sara’s subconscious: MichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMich--
Sara: *Gag*
C-Note: You have got one seriously twisted mind, Fish.
Michael: You’re welcome.
Mahone: Thank you very much.
Michael’s tattoo: Aw, crap.
Michael: Remember: we must be inconspicu--
Watchless Kid: ‘Scuse me ...
Blue Steel: COWER, MINUSCULE LIFE FORM.
Linc: V--
Veronica: Linc--
Agent Blondie: *BANG!*
Mahone: Minions, get me lunch. Sushi, I think.
Ep. 202
Michael: We’re one short uneventful trip to Utah away from freed-
Linc: Not without my son we ain’t.
Michael: Not without a Plan we’re not.
Linc: I’ve gotta Plan.
Michael: Oh, yeah?
Linc: Yeah. ... So what is it?
Michael: I’m thinking.
Linc: If you insist. You don’t have to do this y’know.
Mahone: So here’s the plan, LJ: 1) I attempt to gain your trust.
LJ: Wow, I totally trust you, g-man!
Mahone: ... 2) I threaten you with thinly veiled abuse of power and a cautionary scene chan-
Tweener: Yo.
Mahone: 3) I appeal to your congenitally underdeveloped instinct of self-preservation. 4) I let you stew in your own fear and misery.
LJ: ...
Mahone: Good boy.
Linc: Legal-blah-blah keep your head up ipsa loquitur look out for Otis right habeas testicule.
LJ: Thanks, “Nick”, half of that makes absolutely no sense.
Elevator: *Ding!*
LJ: *Ding!*
Mahone: *Dong!*
Michael/Mahone: *Mind-meld!*
LJ: *Drop!*
Mahone: Scofield is in the building! And that other guy! You know who I mean!
Michael & Linc: *Flee!*
Linc: *Bleed!*
Ep. 203
Michael: Dude, where’s my car?
Mahone: How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
Chuck: A woodchuck would chuck no amount of wood cuz your guy is standing right here.
Mahone: *Scogasm!*
Michael: *Flee!*
Mahone: Wheeler, making with the wheeling and wheel!
Linc: Stand aside, li’l bro, for I am as reckless as thou art anal and we both know you always win at rock-paper-scissors.
Michael’s car: *Ka-BOOM!*
M.E.: Bummer.
Mahone: *bummed*
Linc: Well, that killed my buzz. Got anymore cayenne?
Nika: All out. Maybe you could get a prescription from your doctor.
Michael: Wow, let’s not talk about that and get this Sar- I mean: this show on the road.
Bellick: What ho!
Ep. 204
Linc: Bro, your sorta-wife is totally gonna turn on us.
Michael: Ooooohhhhmmm, don’t be silly, sadly distrustful fraternal one. Women are much better co-conspirators than men. Once you explain to them in a polite and logical manner that your 10 056 step plan (with branching contingency structure) is in the enlightened best interest of everyone following it and no one need resort to unseemly violence, they become very motivated and resourceful in doing your every bidding. Now, breath in. Breath out. Ooooohhhmmmmm...
Bellick: Sara. OD. Neener.
Michael: *VICIOUS KICK TO FACE* *Meltdown*
Sara: I am in no way connected to you in any way, shape or form, you hot mastermind ... I mean: you manipulative bastard!
“Lance”: Score!
Nika: You’ll never love meeeeee!
Michael: ?
Linc: Michael, you doofus, how many times do I have to explain this to you: It’s. Not. Your. Mad. Planning. Skillz. That. Motivates. The. Fairer. Sex. To. Do. Your. Every. Bidding. Got it?
Michael: Does not compute. Bye, Nika! Hope we can still be totally platonic help-mates.
Linc: *sigh* Just get in the car.
Ep. 205
(The T-Bag puppet goes on the middle finger.)
“Lance”: Every girl needs a gay best-friend! We can go shopping together, cook sumptuous meals and talk about skeezy, manipulative, fatally attractive boys.
Mahone: Minions, from now on, I only hear the magic S-word ... and WHO ARE YOU CALLING A GENIUS WHACK JOB?
Tech-Minion: Uhm ... Scofield, sir?
Mahone: Where?!
T-Bag: Yarg, me saucy lad, I be huntin’ boo-tay and you will be of ass-sis-tee-nay-tion.
Tweener: And this is different from Fox River how?
C-Note: *complain-fu* *hax0r-fu* *splash!*
“Lance”: Am I being too probing? My partner, Danny, always said-- erm, says I’m too probing. Gosh, I miss him ... when he travels *sniff*. Anyone you miss?
Sara: Why don’t you just redesign my mail arrangement and I’ll be right back, m’kay?
Gov. Tancredi: Honey, your rebelliously idealistic ways are giving me an ulcer.
Sara: No, dad -- that’s just a late-life onset of scruples.
Sucre: I object! *vamanos!*
Mahone’s birdbath: *ripple* Nope, no fugitives here! Now take your chill pills and run along.
Linc: *sigh*
T-Bag: *flabber-gah-sted!*
Michael: ... and some floss and a loofa.
Ep. 206
T-Bag: Blahblahblah-any-excuse-to-mention-your-ass-cakes.
Michael: Silence, karmic burden. The only thing I want to hear from you is the exact location of that silo ... OR I WILL PERSONALLY PERFORM A MAP-ECTOMY USING ONLY A LEMON ZESTER AND AN ANCHOVY!
Kim: I’m Madame President’s right hand now. You’ve been demoted to her left little toe.
Linc: Life skills -- I’m just sayin’.
Michael: You’re so cool.
Jeanette: This is all awfully inconvenient and dubi-- He-llo, salty pectoral goodness! Dig away, boys, you certainly seem to know what you’re doing.
C-Note: Wash, rinse, repeat, snowflake.
Haywire: Oh-pah! Oooo, windmill-y. Come, Sancho, away!
Jeanette: *Writhe* *giggle* *verbally castrate*
Tweener: *Fleeeeee--smack!*
Mahone: Freeze, punk. The only thing I want to hear from you is the exact location of Scofield ... OR I WILL PERSONALLY PERFORM A 411-ECTOMY USING ONLY A BULLET AND AN ANCHOVY!
Ep. 207
(The Michael finger-puppet refuses to be on the same hand as the others -- I can’t imagine why.)
Michael: I can do this! I can make this work just as long as ...
Linc: Sorry, bro, but my need to selflessly risk life and limb for the sake of my flesh and blood outweighs your geeky little desire to prove that your Plan-fu is the greatest.
Michael: ... nobody ...
Kim: Pfft! Like anyone’s going to notice that we’re offing whole families connected to the same case.
Kellerman: Stay away from my BFF Sar-- I mean, leave this to the original White House Family “Planner”, you evil little git.
Michael: ... does ...
Tweener: Yo?
Mahone: Nothing personal, kid, but go postal on one fugitive lowlife, and you become some shadowy conspiracy’s butt-monkey for life. *BANG!*
Michael: ... anything ...
Sucre: Sorry, compadres, but me and Maricruz, we have a love based on mutual respect and ill gotten gains acquired at gunpoint and I need to re-establish that.
Michael: ... stupid.
Ep. 208
(For maximum authenticity, dip the Michael and Sucre finger-puppets in the beverage of your choice)
Sucre: I have served my purpose -- save yourself. My tethered body will float in this river as a monument to our undying love.
Michael: Okay, yeah: no. A) I am pathologically incapable of leaving you here to die, and B) I have determined that you are the only natural source of comic relief and are, therefore, indispensable. QED.
Sucre: Whoo! Plan!
Michael: Step 1) cradle your head above water in a tender yet manly fashion and Step 2) wait for the water level to rise. Simultaneously, I will Step 3) breath through my eyelids and meditate upon the question that has gotten us so far: What Would MacGyver Do?
Sara: Okay, breath. Think. What Would Scully Do? TRUSTNO1? Check. Hair fabulous and autumnal? Check. Decrypt message from tall and taciturn totally-not-significant-other? On it.
Kellerman: Whither the moral ambiguity? You were hired to do a job. So do it. Hard work is the American Way.
Mahone: True. If by “hired” you mean blackmailed, “job” you mean kill 8 guys who may or may not deserve it and “American Way” you mean ... oh, never mind. What Would Samuel Gerard Do?
Ep. 209
(For your own safety, please hold the Michael and Mahone finger-puppets as far from each other as humanly possible)
Michael: I know what you did -- pity you can’t move the body.
Mahone: Michael, these veiled threats are beneath you. I know where you’re going -- pity you won’t make it out of there alive.
Michael: Oh, Alexander, we are both men of towering intellect, surprising sensitivity and striking bone structure. Why must we fight?
Mahone: A cruel, cruel twist of fate ... So what are you wearing?
Michael: You mean you don’t know? *click*
Ep. 210
Mahone: Burrows, shmurrows -- I’m thisclose to Scofield. I can smell it. It smells like freshly-baked brownies.
Michael: But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
Sara: It is the east, and my burning righteous resentment is the sun.
Michael: I’m really really really really reallyreallyreallyreallyreally sorry. Really. So, uhm, have you ever been to Panama? Panama is great!
Sara: Scamper off to Panama with two of America’s Most Wanted? That’s your great Plan to Make Everything Right?! HOT-- I mean: NOT!
Aldo: You don’t need to scamper off to Panama. Me and my band of Magical Disgruntled Conspira-sprites will fix everything!
Linc: Hmmm, a ridiculously easy solution offered by the man who abandoned me as a child vs. a ridiculously dangerous and complicated one offered by the brother who sacrificed everything he had for me. This, son, is what’s known as a “no-brainer”.
Michael: Mine’s bigger and better lit over here on the Light Side.
Mahone: Yeah, well, mine’s deadlier, and evil shall always triumph because good is too good to murder people in cold blood. Have fun in Panama!
Sara’s note: “You are my new morphine, but I’m wiser now, and so, I am off ...”
Sara: ... oh, who am I kidd--
Kellerman: Hey, girlfriend, you must try my new brownie recipe -- it’s simply to die for.
Ep. 211
Michael: *whimper*
Michael’s conscience: Aw, dude, I am so sorry! I was trying to stuff the last one in the Ends Justify the Means compartment and it just blew up. We need somewhere quiet and moodily lit -- I’m thinking low light with some strategic directional -- to sort all this ‘cause it is seriously gumming up the works in here.
Aldo: Blahblah-conspira-flashback-palooza-cakes and Sara Tancredi is The Key.
Linc: I’d love to enlighten you on how ironically appropriate that is but my Spider Sense is tingling. LINCOLN ACTION SQUAD, ENGAGE!
Jane: *BANG!*
Linc: LJ, this is work for grown-ups who’ve had their survival instincts eroded by years of life experience, so I want you to stay with the nice gun-toting lady.
Aldo: You did the right thing.
Linc: Coming from you, that means absolutely nothing.
Sucre: BFF RESCUE SQUAD, ENGAGE! ... What?! No, just leave him to bleed to death! This is totally one of them Do Onto Others situations.
Michael: *sigh* No, that compartment’s full too.
Coyote: This is possibly the blood lose talking, but I am deeply moved by your not-leaving-me-to-die gesture, so here’s your flight info.
Michael’s conscience: Boo-ya!
Aldo: Michael, I am your father.
Michael: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Kellerman: Oh, come on! I really don’t want to kill you. Just tell me where the whatever your father gave you thing is and we’ll call it a day and get some pie.
Sara: I ODed a little over a week ago and my life has been absolute crap since, so the death thing? Not. So. Scary. Plus, I was probably on my way to experiencing the most transcendent make-up, uhm, “high” e-ver before you showed up and ruined it, Lance, so making this easier on you? Not. In. The. Mood. In summation, bite me. *splash*
Kellerman’s conscience: Can you hear me now? Good.
Still, never let it be said that the Theatre would deny anyone a giggle, so from the cutting room floor of Ep. 211, I believe (yes, stuff gets cut -- flow doesn’t just happen, y’know):
Kim’s conscience: You have reached the conscience of William Kim. I’m not here right now, but please leave your name and transgression after the beep and we’ll make sure to get right back to you. *beep*
Mahone’s conscience: Dude.
Mahone: Yeah?
Mahone’s conscience: This sucks.
Mahone: Yeah.
[EDIT: The conscience finger-puppets inform me that they were wrongly creditted as “conscious” and that they are on strike until I prove to them that I am truly sorry. I maintain that it is all the fault of the English language.]
Ep. 212
Sara: *Houdini-fu* *iron-fu* *flee!*
Kellerman: *Sizzle* *GIRLY SCREAM!* *pwned*
Michael: I DON’T KNOW WHICH I WANT YOU TO FEEL THE MOST ABJECTLY GUILTY ABOUT, DAD -- MY HORRIFIC CHILDHOOD TRAUMA, MY OTHER HORRIFIC CHILDHOOD TRAUMA OR MY OTHER OTHER HORRIFIC CHILDHOOD TRAUMA, SO I’M GOING TO GO WITH ALL OF THE ABOVE!
Aldo: You are absolutely right, and this is all 100% my fault, bu--
Michael: I’M NOT FINISHED!
Linc: Dad, you gotta use the Magic S-Word. Mike, Sara is The Key to solving all our problems. How ironically awesome is that?
Michael: Sara?
Mahone: *BANG!*
Michael: No, Dad, don’t die! It all becomes my fault again if you die!
Aldo: Save the doctor. Save the world. *dies*
Coyote: I want complete immunity from all charges, healthcare, citizenship and a pony. In writing. Then I’ll give you Scofield’s location.
Mahone: Counter-offer: you get to live. In actuality. The location?
Kellerman: There was a tactical misinterpretation of the intelligence at a strategic point in the deployment of the operation due to an intrinsic flaw in the paradigm.
Kim: You are so fired.
Sucre: Can’t I talk you out of doing the noble, ridiculously complicated and dangerous thing this time?
Michael: When have you ever? Fly safe, papi.
Linc: Plan?
Michael: Lock and load.
Linc: Finally.
Michael: Turn back, I’m getting a ping on my Soulmate-o-meter.
Linc: And your Mindmate-o-meter?
Michael: Oh, he’s still out th--
Mahone: *CRASH!*
Ep. 213
Linc: So we’re back in a cell.
Michael: Minor setback.
Linc: Oh, yeah, ‘cause Special Agent McTwitchy over there is gonna put a couple of bullets in our heads way before we get back to Fox River.
Michael: Trifling technicality. I’ll still be able to call Sara! .... So she can exonerate you.
Linc: As long as you have a plan, bro.
Kim: Alex, change of plan -- Burrows and Scofield are now Kellerman’s problem. All you have to do is throw him a surprise retirement party afterwards.
Mahone: So glad to hear I’ve been promoted to a patsy of the 2nd -- no wait, Burrows was of the 1st -- so 3rd degree. Ever wonder how many degrees there are, Bill?
Kim: No.
Pad-Man’s note: “Roses are red, violets are blue, off Kellerman or I will off you. XOXO, Your Superior. PS: Be a dear and get me a latte.”
Linc: I spy with my deep, brooding gaze something beginning with “d”.
Michael: Dumb-ass escape plan. I spy with my intense, penetrating stare something beginning with “i”.
Linc: Insultingly obvious trap. What, you want more of a challenge?
Michael: It would be suicide. I can call Sara from Fox River ... so she can exonerate you.
Linc: Returning to Fox River means certain death for me and you ... and Sara could be dead already.
Sara: Damn you, Michael Scofield -- the things you drive me to! First an overdose and now this. Yes, I’m going to take this razor and ...
Michael: Alright, let’s go.
Michael & Linc: *Flee!*
Mahone: *Pursue!*
Sara: ... cut my hair. Would serve you right if I went blonde, too, while I was at it.
Kellerman: *BANG!* Surprise! Luckily for the two of you, you’re just the guys I need to help me BOIL SOME PRESIDENTIAL BUNNY!
Michael & Linc: ...
Kellerman: ... erm, that is: I can help you right the horrible injustice that has been perpetrated upon you by this administration.
Linc: Good enough. Let’s roll.
Ep. 214
Linc: KillkillKILL!
Kellerman: Kill me and you’ll never find Steadman.
Michael: Linc, breathe. Put the gun away. We need him.
Kellerman: Are you sure you share DNA?
Michael: Yes. So that’s the grand conspiracy? You get full marks for presentation but, frankly, I’ve seen more cohesive teamwork amongst hardened criminals.
Kellerman: Whilst I’ll grant that you are indeed a gifted amateur, I propose that I am still the senior plotter in the group. Now, shush ... Hello, Bill, the good news is I’ve terminated Burrows and Scofield -- the bad news is that Burrows shot Mahone dead. He was such an asset and I’m so sor--
Kim: Mahone’s still alive, Paul.
Kellerman: Oh, sh-uper. Who knew Burrows was such a bad shot -- it looked so accurate and fatal. I’ll just go bury them now. You’re welcome. Buh-bye.
Michael: They can trace those if you leave them on, you know.
Kellerman: Not with my bitchin’ plan -- free roaming, unbelievable coverage, unlimited calls between co-conspirators and completely untrace-able.
Michael: Fascinating.
Kim: Alex, Kellerman’s still making a nuisance of himself.
Mahone: I’ll say -- son of a bitch shot me at close range and completely failed to kill me! Tee-hee, I mean Burrows and Scofield aren’t probably even dead. What kind of a clown-assed covert conspiracy are you guys running there, Kimmy-cakes? Mission: Kimpossible? BWAH! See what I did there cuz it’s like super-super-secret and your name is Kim? Whatever, I’m outsy and the anesthesia here is far-out -- you should totally try.
Kellerman: Everyone, meet Terrence.
Linc: Cool. Now, I can go double jeopardy on HIS ASS!
Kellerman: Scofield, please explain to your brother -- I still can’t believe you’re related -- that we need Terrence alive because that’s the only way to identify him ergo it’s the only way he’s useful to us.
Michael: Linc. No. Kill.
Kim: I trust you’ve received my get-well-and-come-back-to-work-soon message?
Mahone: Yes, he was absolutely right about how, in our rarified profession, we can’t just quit the way postal workers do -- when we off our colleagues in a blind murderous rage, we can do so with the peace of mind that comes from knowing they truly had it coming. Catch ya later, Kimberly.
Michael: Your plan lacks a certain something ... let’s call it “workiness”.
Kellerman: Haven’t we already established that I’m chief planner?
Michael: Haven’t we already established that I follow no plan but my Plan? Now, shush ... Hello, this is Michael Scofield and I’d like to turn myself in. Bring cameras.
Terrence: *yoink gun* No! A cushy prison is far better than a hard one. You can’t beat them!
Michael: All that is necessary for the conspiracy to triumph is for us to do nothing. Do the right thing, Terrence.
Terrence:[/] Easy beats right. *BANG!*
Michael: *whimper*
Kellerman: Appeal to the weasel’s higher morality? Worky strategy there, Thoreau.
Linc: We still have the body of Terrence Steadman.
Michael: All. We. Have. Is. A. John. Doe.
Linc: Eh, better him than me.
Ep. 215
Kellerman: Trust me -- I know what they know.
Linc: I don’t.
Michael: Linc, it’s really quite simple -- we know that they know that we know and they’ll be so distracted by us telling what we know that they know that we know as if we didn’t know that we’ll be able to slip by them what we really don’t know but what we know they don’t know either. Get it?
Linc: No. Can’t we just tell the truth?
Kellerman: They tell lies like the truth -- you’re gonna have to tell the truth like lies.
Michael: That’s what makes us the good guys.
Linc: We know this for a fact?
Bellick: Oh, Katie--
Katie: Oh, you know that is not gonna happen.
Mahone: No, this is too simple -- we know that they know and they had to have known that we would know that they know that we know that they know. So what is it that we don’t know? Of course! It’s so obvious -- it’s what they don’t know either.
Sara: How did you know that I would know?
Michael: I didn’t, but I hoped.
Reynolds: Oh, Paul.
Kellerman: I know. I know.
Ep. 216
Michael: You cut your hair.
Sara: Yes, from now on, I want to be known as the Virgin Doctor.
Michael: Really?
Sara: Absolutely. Hold me.
Kellerman: Sara, no harm, no f--urk!
Blue Steel: OMEGA PROTOCOL INITIALIZED. TARGET ACQUIRED.
Kellerman: Logic! Logic!
Mahone: You have two choices: you can be my bitch or--
Bellick: Woof.
Mahone: Good dog.
Sara: Michael, could you find me some water?
Michael: Sure, did you want it for hygiene and/or hydration purposes or to drown Kellerman very slowly?
Sara: Hygiene/hydration. Murder is wrong ... Murder. Is. Wrong ... Feel the constriction of my Hoodie Drawstring of Righteous Wrath!
Kellerman: Urk! ... That’s it, National Asphyxiate Kellerman Day is officially over! You still need me, so cut it -- bad choice of words -- cease and desist.
Linc: Kids, just everyone stay on their own side of the train car and Kellerman need not get hurt.
Sara: No harm, no foul, Paul.
Bellick: Bradford von Bellikos III. Eff. Bee. Aiee.
Sara: ... on the bright side, mind-altering substances would be redundant at this point.
Michael: On the brighter side, we’re in this really quite spacious yet completely enclosed washroom. Alone. Together.
Sara: You have a very positive and constructive life philosophy and it’s only one of the many things I really really lo--
Kellerman: Lovely of you to join us here at our newest crisis.
Michael: Linc, controls if you please.
Linc: Yar!
Kellerman: Spare me your feeble false Caroline-ness -- she would have remembered today is NAKD!
Haywire: I just want it to be over! *splat*
Mahone: Lucky.
Michael: Shall we?
Sara: Heck, yeah -- I always like some overpriced second-hand smoke after attempting homicide, recklessly declaring my love and hygiene-adjacent making-out.
Michael: Yeah. Me too.
Ep. 217
Pope: This has nothing to do with me.
Sara: Been there.
Pope: I trusted you and you betrayed that trust!
Sara: Done that.
Pope: I treated you like a son!
Sara: I’ll see your indignant father-figure and raise you a dead one.
Michael: Two, actually, but who’s counting? Full house of self-sacrifice.
Sara: ... wait, what?!
Kellerman: I was not dumped -- I was erased.
Linc: Uh-huh. I feel your pain, Paul, I really do. It feels all warm and tingly.
Sara: You still owe me dinner, y’know.
Michael: As I recall, you turned me down. Repeatedly.
Sara: Oh, pul-eeze -- you had me at “ ‘Be the--’ “.
Kim: Your Holiness, may I have a word?
Pope: Yes: adios.
Michael: *Crash!*
Linc: *Smash!*
Sara: Sorry, Paul, you’re not being rejected -- you’re being ejected.
Michael: You two unravel this Byzantine conspiracy without me -- I know you can do it.
Linc: Sara, when he’s “negotiating”, you gotta stop him before he gets aggressively accommodating.
Michael: What’s the hold-up? Let’s make with the turning me--
Pope: Go. Just ... go.
Ep. 218
Mahone: Bad dog!
Bellick: *whimper*
Mahone: Go fetch. You’ll get your treat later.
Linc: Mr. Green, welcome to the Deep Throat Memorial Triathlon. The first event is running, but lose the jacket -- we wouldn’t want you to overheat.
“Cooper” “Green”: You have got to be kidding me.
Linc: I no longer even know the meaning of the word. On your mark ... get set ... go.
Sara: Et tu, Bruce?
Bruce: I. Did. Not. Betray. You. You can trust me or not -- that is wholly up to you.
Sara: Ah, passive aggressive sincerity -- I know it well.
Linc: Now, get into the fountain and quack like a duck.
Kim: We’ve got Scofield cornered.
Mahone: Is that we-think-we-have-him-but-not-quite-yet cornered, or actually-backed-into-an-actual-corner cornered?
Kim: Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Mahone: Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.
Kim: Go fetch, Alex. Oh, and off Franklin.
Mahone: *whimper*
Linc: Just go up the stairs, over the catwalk, down the stairs, around the mulberry bush, through the white door and you’re done.
Sara: Mr. Green, I trust you’ve already met with Michael Scofield and Lincoln Burrows.
“Cooper” “Green”: Uhm, nooooo -- that I would definitely remember.
Sara: Michael.
Linc: MIIIIIIIIIIIII....
“Cooper” “Green”: Your brother already put me through the running-wading-obstacle course triathlon, what is this?
Linc: ... CHAAAAAA....
Michael: The drug test.
Linc: .... EEEeeel. Oh.
“Cooper” “Green”: Legally it’s worthless.
Linc: That’s not “kidding”, is it?
“Cooper” “Green”: No, and what I’m not going to suggest does not begin with “b” nor does it end with “lackmail”.
Mahone: Aah-ooooo ....
Ep. 219
Sara: We broke up. What can I say? The thrill is gone.
Mahone: Oh, pul-eeze -- I felt the disturbance as if millions of voices rose up ... and went “squee”. Where are you meeting him?
Michael: Someplace safe. You should call him -- you’ll find it very illuminating ... like a history lecture on Ancient Egypt or, perhaps, Rome.
Reynolds: You don’t get to make “suggestions” -- I already have people for that.
Sara: The first step is admitting that you have a problem.
Mahone: Have a problem or am the problem?
Michael: It’s time to make your choice.
Reynolds: Fine, you’ll get what you want. Leave.
Sara: Don’t presume to know what I want!
Mahone: Check.
Michael: And mate. It’s done!
Reynolds: I am ... that is: I have cancer. I’m done.
Ep. 220
Sara: I just wanted a donut. You look like you could use one, too.
Mahone: Where. Is. He?
Sara: Repeat after me: “Hi, my name is Alexander and I’m an addict.”
Linc: There’s nothing you can do.
Michael: You keep saying that! I can only assume that you have not been paying attention.
Mahone: Eureka!
Michael’s tattoo: Hey, genius, decipher this: phi-upsilon-kappa upsilon.
Linc: Listen and listen good, you little twerp, I am not letting you come to the Dumb-Ass Side. Not then. Not now. Not ev-oof!
Michael: Who are you calling “little”?
Linc: *sigh* It’s over. We won and, look, I found the rum ... but why is my brother gone? MICHAEL!
Mahone: Hola, mi nombre es Alessandro y soy un adicto.
Ep. 221
Michael: Here’s how we’ll proceed: You. Will. Do. What. I. Say.
Sucre: Can I still ask--
Michael: Yes.
Bellick: I’m still gonna be an assho--
Michael: Yes.
Sucre: And then I’m gonna kill Bellick.
Michael: There will be no killing. There will be finding of imprisoned significant other and happiness and making of the world a slightly better and more beautiful place. And it will be magical.
Sucre: Are we still talking about me?
Michael: Yes.
T-Bag: *scurry*
Spooks: *follow*
Michael, Sucre & Bellick: *follow*
Mahone: *foll--*
Linc: *Thwack!*
Mahone: You are not going to like the way this ends, Lincoln.
Linc: I never do.
Bellick: Now I may be the dumb American, but I’m still the one holding the guns.
Michael: Hola.
Spooks: ... This is in no way a trap.
Michael: *sigh*
T-Bag: Adios, suckahs!
Bellick: El gun-o not mine-o! I soy innocent! O!
Linc: I’m good at two things in this world and the second is that I don’t even need to see the “FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE” practically stamped on your forehead to tell that you are well and truly broken.
Mahone: What’s the first?
Linc: Macramé.
Sucre: Maricruz! *bleed*
T-Bag: One way or a-nuh-thuh, angel-boy, Ah am gonna go bi-bl’cal on yo’ ass cuz you are jus’ lackin’ that kill-ah een-stinc--
Michael: *Thwack!*
T-Bag: *GIRLY SCREAM!*
Michael: We all have our crosses to bear.
Sara: Lance?
Kellerman: Got your back, sister-girl.
Mahone: As it turns out, Michael, neither of you are killers. I wish I could say the same for myself.
Michael: You are out of your mind.
Mahone: That’s why I need yours.
Ep. 222
Pam: Alex, this is all so sudden. And weird but not wonderful because, while being with you again would be wonderful, I can’t help but feel that it would ultimately spin our lives beyond all sense and cohesion.
Mahone: But there will be animals and coffee and beaches and structure is so overrated! Trust me, it’ll be magical.
Linc: Let ‘em go, man. Take it from Dr. Livingonborrowedtime -- don’t drag them into the Endless Vortex of Suck that has become your sorry existence.
Mahone: Nobody asked you.
Linc: Also, the last thing you need is caffeine.
Kellerman: ... and that’s what happened. It’s been swell. Adieu.
Linc: Cocaine?! How much? What if you were cau-- uhm, thank you?
Michael: On the bright side, you’re alive and we still have the money.
Sara: On the brighter side ...
Michael: *swoon*
Linc: Wouldn’t it be awesome if it all just ended right now?
Kim: Wouldn’t it?
Sara: *Bang!*
Linc: *Flee!*
Michael & Sara: *Flee!*
Pad-man: Increase the suction on the EVS to level 3.
Michael: ...
Mahone: ...
Bellick: *gurgle*
Michael: *sigh*
Ep. 201
Wheeler: ... and that’s what happened.
Mahone: Oh, good -- a challenge. It might even take until lunch to catch ‘em. Now, what’s a four-letter word for “to make sharper, more focussed”?
Wheeler: Sir?
Mahone: No, that’s three letters.
Michael: Utah, Mexico, Panama. It’ll be easy.
Linc: We still need help. Veronica could--
Michael: a) We’ve ruined her li-- uhm, she can’t help us and b) sub-clause viii) I’ve got a contingency Plan conveniently tattooed on my wrist and not somewhere else on my person that’s normally covered and hard to reach for just such an eventuality.
Linc: You think of everything.
Sara’s subconscious: MichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMichaelMich--
Sara: *Gag*
C-Note: You have got one seriously twisted mind, Fish.
Michael: You’re welcome.
Mahone: Thank you very much.
Michael’s tattoo: Aw, crap.
Michael: Remember: we must be inconspicu--
Watchless Kid: ‘Scuse me ...
Blue Steel: COWER, MINUSCULE LIFE FORM.
Linc: V--
Veronica: Linc--
Agent Blondie: *BANG!*
Mahone: Minions, get me lunch. Sushi, I think.
Ep. 202
Michael: We’re one short uneventful trip to Utah away from freed-
Linc: Not without my son we ain’t.
Michael: Not without a Plan we’re not.
Linc: I’ve gotta Plan.
Michael: Oh, yeah?
Linc: Yeah. ... So what is it?
Michael: I’m thinking.
Linc: If you insist. You don’t have to do this y’know.
Mahone: So here’s the plan, LJ: 1) I attempt to gain your trust.
LJ: Wow, I totally trust you, g-man!
Mahone: ... 2) I threaten you with thinly veiled abuse of power and a cautionary scene chan-
Tweener: Yo.
Mahone: 3) I appeal to your congenitally underdeveloped instinct of self-preservation. 4) I let you stew in your own fear and misery.
LJ: ...
Mahone: Good boy.
Linc: Legal-blah-blah keep your head up ipsa loquitur look out for Otis right habeas testicule.
LJ: Thanks, “Nick”, half of that makes absolutely no sense.
Elevator: *Ding!*
LJ: *Ding!*
Mahone: *Dong!*
Michael/Mahone: *Mind-meld!*
LJ: *Drop!*
Mahone: Scofield is in the building! And that other guy! You know who I mean!
Michael & Linc: *Flee!*
Linc: *Bleed!*
Ep. 203
Michael: Dude, where’s my car?
Mahone: How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
Chuck: A woodchuck would chuck no amount of wood cuz your guy is standing right here.
Mahone: *Scogasm!*
Michael: *Flee!*
Mahone: Wheeler, making with the wheeling and wheel!
Linc: Stand aside, li’l bro, for I am as reckless as thou art anal and we both know you always win at rock-paper-scissors.
Michael’s car: *Ka-BOOM!*
M.E.: Bummer.
Mahone: *bummed*
Linc: Well, that killed my buzz. Got anymore cayenne?
Nika: All out. Maybe you could get a prescription from your doctor.
Michael: Wow, let’s not talk about that and get this Sar- I mean: this show on the road.
Bellick: What ho!
Ep. 204
Linc: Bro, your sorta-wife is totally gonna turn on us.
Michael: Ooooohhhhmmm, don’t be silly, sadly distrustful fraternal one. Women are much better co-conspirators than men. Once you explain to them in a polite and logical manner that your 10 056 step plan (with branching contingency structure) is in the enlightened best interest of everyone following it and no one need resort to unseemly violence, they become very motivated and resourceful in doing your every bidding. Now, breath in. Breath out. Ooooohhhmmmmm...
Bellick: Sara. OD. Neener.
Michael: *VICIOUS KICK TO FACE* *Meltdown*
Sara: I am in no way connected to you in any way, shape or form, you hot mastermind ... I mean: you manipulative bastard!
“Lance”: Score!
Nika: You’ll never love meeeeee!
Michael: ?
Linc: Michael, you doofus, how many times do I have to explain this to you: It’s. Not. Your. Mad. Planning. Skillz. That. Motivates. The. Fairer. Sex. To. Do. Your. Every. Bidding. Got it?
Michael: Does not compute. Bye, Nika! Hope we can still be totally platonic help-mates.
Linc: *sigh* Just get in the car.
Ep. 205
(The T-Bag puppet goes on the middle finger.)
“Lance”: Every girl needs a gay best-friend! We can go shopping together, cook sumptuous meals and talk about skeezy, manipulative, fatally attractive boys.
Mahone: Minions, from now on, I only hear the magic S-word ... and WHO ARE YOU CALLING A GENIUS WHACK JOB?
Tech-Minion: Uhm ... Scofield, sir?
Mahone: Where?!
T-Bag: Yarg, me saucy lad, I be huntin’ boo-tay and you will be of ass-sis-tee-nay-tion.
Tweener: And this is different from Fox River how?
C-Note: *complain-fu* *hax0r-fu* *splash!*
“Lance”: Am I being too probing? My partner, Danny, always said-- erm, says I’m too probing. Gosh, I miss him ... when he travels *sniff*. Anyone you miss?
Sara: Why don’t you just redesign my mail arrangement and I’ll be right back, m’kay?
Gov. Tancredi: Honey, your rebelliously idealistic ways are giving me an ulcer.
Sara: No, dad -- that’s just a late-life onset of scruples.
Sucre: I object! *vamanos!*
Mahone’s birdbath: *ripple* Nope, no fugitives here! Now take your chill pills and run along.
Linc: *sigh*
T-Bag: *flabber-gah-sted!*
Michael: ... and some floss and a loofa.
Ep. 206
T-Bag: Blahblahblah-any-excuse-to-mention-your-ass-cakes.
Michael: Silence, karmic burden. The only thing I want to hear from you is the exact location of that silo ... OR I WILL PERSONALLY PERFORM A MAP-ECTOMY USING ONLY A LEMON ZESTER AND AN ANCHOVY!
Kim: I’m Madame President’s right hand now. You’ve been demoted to her left little toe.
Linc: Life skills -- I’m just sayin’.
Michael: You’re so cool.
Jeanette: This is all awfully inconvenient and dubi-- He-llo, salty pectoral goodness! Dig away, boys, you certainly seem to know what you’re doing.
C-Note: Wash, rinse, repeat, snowflake.
Haywire: Oh-pah! Oooo, windmill-y. Come, Sancho, away!
Jeanette: *Writhe* *giggle* *verbally castrate*
Tweener: *Fleeeeee--smack!*
Mahone: Freeze, punk. The only thing I want to hear from you is the exact location of Scofield ... OR I WILL PERSONALLY PERFORM A 411-ECTOMY USING ONLY A BULLET AND AN ANCHOVY!
Ep. 207
(The Michael finger-puppet refuses to be on the same hand as the others -- I can’t imagine why.)
Michael: I can do this! I can make this work just as long as ...
Linc: Sorry, bro, but my need to selflessly risk life and limb for the sake of my flesh and blood outweighs your geeky little desire to prove that your Plan-fu is the greatest.
Michael: ... nobody ...
Kim: Pfft! Like anyone’s going to notice that we’re offing whole families connected to the same case.
Kellerman: Stay away from my BFF Sar-- I mean, leave this to the original White House Family “Planner”, you evil little git.
Michael: ... does ...
Tweener: Yo?
Mahone: Nothing personal, kid, but go postal on one fugitive lowlife, and you become some shadowy conspiracy’s butt-monkey for life. *BANG!*
Michael: ... anything ...
Sucre: Sorry, compadres, but me and Maricruz, we have a love based on mutual respect and ill gotten gains acquired at gunpoint and I need to re-establish that.
Michael: ... stupid.
Ep. 208
(For maximum authenticity, dip the Michael and Sucre finger-puppets in the beverage of your choice)
Sucre: I have served my purpose -- save yourself. My tethered body will float in this river as a monument to our undying love.
Michael: Okay, yeah: no. A) I am pathologically incapable of leaving you here to die, and B) I have determined that you are the only natural source of comic relief and are, therefore, indispensable. QED.
Sucre: Whoo! Plan!
Michael: Step 1) cradle your head above water in a tender yet manly fashion and Step 2) wait for the water level to rise. Simultaneously, I will Step 3) breath through my eyelids and meditate upon the question that has gotten us so far: What Would MacGyver Do?
Sara: Okay, breath. Think. What Would Scully Do? TRUSTNO1? Check. Hair fabulous and autumnal? Check. Decrypt message from tall and taciturn totally-not-significant-other? On it.
Kellerman: Whither the moral ambiguity? You were hired to do a job. So do it. Hard work is the American Way.
Mahone: True. If by “hired” you mean blackmailed, “job” you mean kill 8 guys who may or may not deserve it and “American Way” you mean ... oh, never mind. What Would Samuel Gerard Do?
Ep. 209
(For your own safety, please hold the Michael and Mahone finger-puppets as far from each other as humanly possible)
Michael: I know what you did -- pity you can’t move the body.
Mahone: Michael, these veiled threats are beneath you. I know where you’re going -- pity you won’t make it out of there alive.
Michael: Oh, Alexander, we are both men of towering intellect, surprising sensitivity and striking bone structure. Why must we fight?
Mahone: A cruel, cruel twist of fate ... So what are you wearing?
Michael: You mean you don’t know? *click*
Ep. 210
Mahone: Burrows, shmurrows -- I’m thisclose to Scofield. I can smell it. It smells like freshly-baked brownies.
Michael: But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
Sara: It is the east, and my burning righteous resentment is the sun.
Michael: I’m really really really really reallyreallyreallyreallyreally sorry. Really. So, uhm, have you ever been to Panama? Panama is great!
Sara: Scamper off to Panama with two of America’s Most Wanted? That’s your great Plan to Make Everything Right?! HOT-- I mean: NOT!
Aldo: You don’t need to scamper off to Panama. Me and my band of Magical Disgruntled Conspira-sprites will fix everything!
Linc: Hmmm, a ridiculously easy solution offered by the man who abandoned me as a child vs. a ridiculously dangerous and complicated one offered by the brother who sacrificed everything he had for me. This, son, is what’s known as a “no-brainer”.
Michael: Mine’s bigger and better lit over here on the Light Side.
Mahone: Yeah, well, mine’s deadlier, and evil shall always triumph because good is too good to murder people in cold blood. Have fun in Panama!
Sara’s note: “You are my new morphine, but I’m wiser now, and so, I am off ...”
Sara: ... oh, who am I kidd--
Kellerman: Hey, girlfriend, you must try my new brownie recipe -- it’s simply to die for.
Ep. 211
Michael: *whimper*
Michael’s conscience: Aw, dude, I am so sorry! I was trying to stuff the last one in the Ends Justify the Means compartment and it just blew up. We need somewhere quiet and moodily lit -- I’m thinking low light with some strategic directional -- to sort all this ‘cause it is seriously gumming up the works in here.
Aldo: Blahblah-conspira-flashback-palooza-cakes and Sara Tancredi is The Key.
Linc: I’d love to enlighten you on how ironically appropriate that is but my Spider Sense is tingling. LINCOLN ACTION SQUAD, ENGAGE!
Jane: *BANG!*
Linc: LJ, this is work for grown-ups who’ve had their survival instincts eroded by years of life experience, so I want you to stay with the nice gun-toting lady.
Aldo: You did the right thing.
Linc: Coming from you, that means absolutely nothing.
Sucre: BFF RESCUE SQUAD, ENGAGE! ... What?! No, just leave him to bleed to death! This is totally one of them Do Onto Others situations.
Michael: *sigh* No, that compartment’s full too.
Coyote: This is possibly the blood lose talking, but I am deeply moved by your not-leaving-me-to-die gesture, so here’s your flight info.
Michael’s conscience: Boo-ya!
Aldo: Michael, I am your father.
Michael: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Kellerman: Oh, come on! I really don’t want to kill you. Just tell me where the whatever your father gave you thing is and we’ll call it a day and get some pie.
Sara: I ODed a little over a week ago and my life has been absolute crap since, so the death thing? Not. So. Scary. Plus, I was probably on my way to experiencing the most transcendent make-up, uhm, “high” e-ver before you showed up and ruined it, Lance, so making this easier on you? Not. In. The. Mood. In summation, bite me. *splash*
Kellerman’s conscience: Can you hear me now? Good.
Still, never let it be said that the Theatre would deny anyone a giggle, so from the cutting room floor of Ep. 211, I believe (yes, stuff gets cut -- flow doesn’t just happen, y’know):
Kim’s conscience: You have reached the conscience of William Kim. I’m not here right now, but please leave your name and transgression after the beep and we’ll make sure to get right back to you. *beep*
Mahone’s conscience: Dude.
Mahone: Yeah?
Mahone’s conscience: This sucks.
Mahone: Yeah.
[EDIT: The conscience finger-puppets inform me that they were wrongly creditted as “conscious” and that they are on strike until I prove to them that I am truly sorry. I maintain that it is all the fault of the English language.]
Ep. 212
Sara: *Houdini-fu* *iron-fu* *flee!*
Kellerman: *Sizzle* *GIRLY SCREAM!* *pwned*
Michael: I DON’T KNOW WHICH I WANT YOU TO FEEL THE MOST ABJECTLY GUILTY ABOUT, DAD -- MY HORRIFIC CHILDHOOD TRAUMA, MY OTHER HORRIFIC CHILDHOOD TRAUMA OR MY OTHER OTHER HORRIFIC CHILDHOOD TRAUMA, SO I’M GOING TO GO WITH ALL OF THE ABOVE!
Aldo: You are absolutely right, and this is all 100% my fault, bu--
Michael: I’M NOT FINISHED!
Linc: Dad, you gotta use the Magic S-Word. Mike, Sara is The Key to solving all our problems. How ironically awesome is that?
Michael: Sara?
Mahone: *BANG!*
Michael: No, Dad, don’t die! It all becomes my fault again if you die!
Aldo: Save the doctor. Save the world. *dies*
Coyote: I want complete immunity from all charges, healthcare, citizenship and a pony. In writing. Then I’ll give you Scofield’s location.
Mahone: Counter-offer: you get to live. In actuality. The location?
Kellerman: There was a tactical misinterpretation of the intelligence at a strategic point in the deployment of the operation due to an intrinsic flaw in the paradigm.
Kim: You are so fired.
Sucre: Can’t I talk you out of doing the noble, ridiculously complicated and dangerous thing this time?
Michael: When have you ever? Fly safe, papi.
Linc: Plan?
Michael: Lock and load.
Linc: Finally.
Michael: Turn back, I’m getting a ping on my Soulmate-o-meter.
Linc: And your Mindmate-o-meter?
Michael: Oh, he’s still out th--
Mahone: *CRASH!*
Ep. 213
Linc: So we’re back in a cell.
Michael: Minor setback.
Linc: Oh, yeah, ‘cause Special Agent McTwitchy over there is gonna put a couple of bullets in our heads way before we get back to Fox River.
Michael: Trifling technicality. I’ll still be able to call Sara! .... So she can exonerate you.
Linc: As long as you have a plan, bro.
Kim: Alex, change of plan -- Burrows and Scofield are now Kellerman’s problem. All you have to do is throw him a surprise retirement party afterwards.
Mahone: So glad to hear I’ve been promoted to a patsy of the 2nd -- no wait, Burrows was of the 1st -- so 3rd degree. Ever wonder how many degrees there are, Bill?
Kim: No.
Pad-Man’s note: “Roses are red, violets are blue, off Kellerman or I will off you. XOXO, Your Superior. PS: Be a dear and get me a latte.”
Linc: I spy with my deep, brooding gaze something beginning with “d”.
Michael: Dumb-ass escape plan. I spy with my intense, penetrating stare something beginning with “i”.
Linc: Insultingly obvious trap. What, you want more of a challenge?
Michael: It would be suicide. I can call Sara from Fox River ... so she can exonerate you.
Linc: Returning to Fox River means certain death for me and you ... and Sara could be dead already.
Sara: Damn you, Michael Scofield -- the things you drive me to! First an overdose and now this. Yes, I’m going to take this razor and ...
Michael: Alright, let’s go.
Michael & Linc: *Flee!*
Mahone: *Pursue!*
Sara: ... cut my hair. Would serve you right if I went blonde, too, while I was at it.
Kellerman: *BANG!* Surprise! Luckily for the two of you, you’re just the guys I need to help me BOIL SOME PRESIDENTIAL BUNNY!
Michael & Linc: ...
Kellerman: ... erm, that is: I can help you right the horrible injustice that has been perpetrated upon you by this administration.
Linc: Good enough. Let’s roll.
Ep. 214
Linc: KillkillKILL!
Kellerman: Kill me and you’ll never find Steadman.
Michael: Linc, breathe. Put the gun away. We need him.
Kellerman: Are you sure you share DNA?
Michael: Yes. So that’s the grand conspiracy? You get full marks for presentation but, frankly, I’ve seen more cohesive teamwork amongst hardened criminals.
Kellerman: Whilst I’ll grant that you are indeed a gifted amateur, I propose that I am still the senior plotter in the group. Now, shush ... Hello, Bill, the good news is I’ve terminated Burrows and Scofield -- the bad news is that Burrows shot Mahone dead. He was such an asset and I’m so sor--
Kim: Mahone’s still alive, Paul.
Kellerman: Oh, sh-uper. Who knew Burrows was such a bad shot -- it looked so accurate and fatal. I’ll just go bury them now. You’re welcome. Buh-bye.
Michael: They can trace those if you leave them on, you know.
Kellerman: Not with my bitchin’ plan -- free roaming, unbelievable coverage, unlimited calls between co-conspirators and completely untrace-able.
Michael: Fascinating.
Kim: Alex, Kellerman’s still making a nuisance of himself.
Mahone: I’ll say -- son of a bitch shot me at close range and completely failed to kill me! Tee-hee, I mean Burrows and Scofield aren’t probably even dead. What kind of a clown-assed covert conspiracy are you guys running there, Kimmy-cakes? Mission: Kimpossible? BWAH! See what I did there cuz it’s like super-super-secret and your name is Kim? Whatever, I’m outsy and the anesthesia here is far-out -- you should totally try.
Kellerman: Everyone, meet Terrence.
Linc: Cool. Now, I can go double jeopardy on HIS ASS!
Kellerman: Scofield, please explain to your brother -- I still can’t believe you’re related -- that we need Terrence alive because that’s the only way to identify him ergo it’s the only way he’s useful to us.
Michael: Linc. No. Kill.
Kim: I trust you’ve received my get-well-and-come-back-to-work-soon message?
Mahone: Yes, he was absolutely right about how, in our rarified profession, we can’t just quit the way postal workers do -- when we off our colleagues in a blind murderous rage, we can do so with the peace of mind that comes from knowing they truly had it coming. Catch ya later, Kimberly.
Michael: Your plan lacks a certain something ... let’s call it “workiness”.
Kellerman: Haven’t we already established that I’m chief planner?
Michael: Haven’t we already established that I follow no plan but my Plan? Now, shush ... Hello, this is Michael Scofield and I’d like to turn myself in. Bring cameras.
Terrence: *yoink gun* No! A cushy prison is far better than a hard one. You can’t beat them!
Michael: All that is necessary for the conspiracy to triumph is for us to do nothing. Do the right thing, Terrence.
Terrence:[/] Easy beats right. *BANG!*
Michael: *whimper*
Kellerman: Appeal to the weasel’s higher morality? Worky strategy there, Thoreau.
Linc: We still have the body of Terrence Steadman.
Michael: All. We. Have. Is. A. John. Doe.
Linc: Eh, better him than me.
Ep. 215
Kellerman: Trust me -- I know what they know.
Linc: I don’t.
Michael: Linc, it’s really quite simple -- we know that they know that we know and they’ll be so distracted by us telling what we know that they know that we know as if we didn’t know that we’ll be able to slip by them what we really don’t know but what we know they don’t know either. Get it?
Linc: No. Can’t we just tell the truth?
Kellerman: They tell lies like the truth -- you’re gonna have to tell the truth like lies.
Michael: That’s what makes us the good guys.
Linc: We know this for a fact?
Bellick: Oh, Katie--
Katie: Oh, you know that is not gonna happen.
Mahone: No, this is too simple -- we know that they know and they had to have known that we would know that they know that we know that they know. So what is it that we don’t know? Of course! It’s so obvious -- it’s what they don’t know either.
Sara: How did you know that I would know?
Michael: I didn’t, but I hoped.
Reynolds: Oh, Paul.
Kellerman: I know. I know.
Ep. 216
Michael: You cut your hair.
Sara: Yes, from now on, I want to be known as the Virgin Doctor.
Michael: Really?
Sara: Absolutely. Hold me.
Kellerman: Sara, no harm, no f--urk!
Blue Steel: OMEGA PROTOCOL INITIALIZED. TARGET ACQUIRED.
Kellerman: Logic! Logic!
Mahone: You have two choices: you can be my bitch or--
Bellick: Woof.
Mahone: Good dog.
Sara: Michael, could you find me some water?
Michael: Sure, did you want it for hygiene and/or hydration purposes or to drown Kellerman very slowly?
Sara: Hygiene/hydration. Murder is wrong ... Murder. Is. Wrong ... Feel the constriction of my Hoodie Drawstring of Righteous Wrath!
Kellerman: Urk! ... That’s it, National Asphyxiate Kellerman Day is officially over! You still need me, so cut it -- bad choice of words -- cease and desist.
Linc: Kids, just everyone stay on their own side of the train car and Kellerman need not get hurt.
Sara: No harm, no foul, Paul.
Bellick: Bradford von Bellikos III. Eff. Bee. Aiee.
Sara: ... on the bright side, mind-altering substances would be redundant at this point.
Michael: On the brighter side, we’re in this really quite spacious yet completely enclosed washroom. Alone. Together.
Sara: You have a very positive and constructive life philosophy and it’s only one of the many things I really really lo--
Kellerman: Lovely of you to join us here at our newest crisis.
Michael: Linc, controls if you please.
Linc: Yar!
Kellerman: Spare me your feeble false Caroline-ness -- she would have remembered today is NAKD!
Haywire: I just want it to be over! *splat*
Mahone: Lucky.
Michael: Shall we?
Sara: Heck, yeah -- I always like some overpriced second-hand smoke after attempting homicide, recklessly declaring my love and hygiene-adjacent making-out.
Michael: Yeah. Me too.
Ep. 217
Pope: This has nothing to do with me.
Sara: Been there.
Pope: I trusted you and you betrayed that trust!
Sara: Done that.
Pope: I treated you like a son!
Sara: I’ll see your indignant father-figure and raise you a dead one.
Michael: Two, actually, but who’s counting? Full house of self-sacrifice.
Sara: ... wait, what?!
Kellerman: I was not dumped -- I was erased.
Linc: Uh-huh. I feel your pain, Paul, I really do. It feels all warm and tingly.
Sara: You still owe me dinner, y’know.
Michael: As I recall, you turned me down. Repeatedly.
Sara: Oh, pul-eeze -- you had me at “ ‘Be the--’ “.
Kim: Your Holiness, may I have a word?
Pope: Yes: adios.
Michael: *Crash!*
Linc: *Smash!*
Sara: Sorry, Paul, you’re not being rejected -- you’re being ejected.
Michael: You two unravel this Byzantine conspiracy without me -- I know you can do it.
Linc: Sara, when he’s “negotiating”, you gotta stop him before he gets aggressively accommodating.
Michael: What’s the hold-up? Let’s make with the turning me--
Pope: Go. Just ... go.
Ep. 218
Mahone: Bad dog!
Bellick: *whimper*
Mahone: Go fetch. You’ll get your treat later.
Linc: Mr. Green, welcome to the Deep Throat Memorial Triathlon. The first event is running, but lose the jacket -- we wouldn’t want you to overheat.
“Cooper” “Green”: You have got to be kidding me.
Linc: I no longer even know the meaning of the word. On your mark ... get set ... go.
Sara: Et tu, Bruce?
Bruce: I. Did. Not. Betray. You. You can trust me or not -- that is wholly up to you.
Sara: Ah, passive aggressive sincerity -- I know it well.
Linc: Now, get into the fountain and quack like a duck.
Kim: We’ve got Scofield cornered.
Mahone: Is that we-think-we-have-him-but-not-quite-yet cornered, or actually-backed-into-an-actual-corner cornered?
Kim: Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Mahone: Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.
Kim: Go fetch, Alex. Oh, and off Franklin.
Mahone: *whimper*
Linc: Just go up the stairs, over the catwalk, down the stairs, around the mulberry bush, through the white door and you’re done.
Sara: Mr. Green, I trust you’ve already met with Michael Scofield and Lincoln Burrows.
“Cooper” “Green”: Uhm, nooooo -- that I would definitely remember.
Sara: Michael.
Linc: MIIIIIIIIIIIII....
“Cooper” “Green”: Your brother already put me through the running-wading-obstacle course triathlon, what is this?
Linc: ... CHAAAAAA....
Michael: The drug test.
Linc: .... EEEeeel. Oh.
“Cooper” “Green”: Legally it’s worthless.
Linc: That’s not “kidding”, is it?
“Cooper” “Green”: No, and what I’m not going to suggest does not begin with “b” nor does it end with “lackmail”.
Mahone: Aah-ooooo ....
Ep. 219
Sara: We broke up. What can I say? The thrill is gone.
Mahone: Oh, pul-eeze -- I felt the disturbance as if millions of voices rose up ... and went “squee”. Where are you meeting him?
Michael: Someplace safe. You should call him -- you’ll find it very illuminating ... like a history lecture on Ancient Egypt or, perhaps, Rome.
Reynolds: You don’t get to make “suggestions” -- I already have people for that.
Sara: The first step is admitting that you have a problem.
Mahone: Have a problem or am the problem?
Michael: It’s time to make your choice.
Reynolds: Fine, you’ll get what you want. Leave.
Sara: Don’t presume to know what I want!
Mahone: Check.
Michael: And mate. It’s done!
Reynolds: I am ... that is: I have cancer. I’m done.
Ep. 220
Sara: I just wanted a donut. You look like you could use one, too.
Mahone: Where. Is. He?
Sara: Repeat after me: “Hi, my name is Alexander and I’m an addict.”
Linc: There’s nothing you can do.
Michael: You keep saying that! I can only assume that you have not been paying attention.
Mahone: Eureka!
Michael’s tattoo: Hey, genius, decipher this: phi-upsilon-kappa upsilon.
Linc: Listen and listen good, you little twerp, I am not letting you come to the Dumb-Ass Side. Not then. Not now. Not ev-oof!
Michael: Who are you calling “little”?
Linc: *sigh* It’s over. We won and, look, I found the rum ... but why is my brother gone? MICHAEL!
Mahone: Hola, mi nombre es Alessandro y soy un adicto.
Ep. 221
Michael: Here’s how we’ll proceed: You. Will. Do. What. I. Say.
Sucre: Can I still ask--
Michael: Yes.
Bellick: I’m still gonna be an assho--
Michael: Yes.
Sucre: And then I’m gonna kill Bellick.
Michael: There will be no killing. There will be finding of imprisoned significant other and happiness and making of the world a slightly better and more beautiful place. And it will be magical.
Sucre: Are we still talking about me?
Michael: Yes.
T-Bag: *scurry*
Spooks: *follow*
Michael, Sucre & Bellick: *follow*
Mahone: *foll--*
Linc: *Thwack!*
Mahone: You are not going to like the way this ends, Lincoln.
Linc: I never do.
Bellick: Now I may be the dumb American, but I’m still the one holding the guns.
Michael: Hola.
Spooks: ... This is in no way a trap.
Michael: *sigh*
T-Bag: Adios, suckahs!
Bellick: El gun-o not mine-o! I soy innocent! O!
Linc: I’m good at two things in this world and the second is that I don’t even need to see the “FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE” practically stamped on your forehead to tell that you are well and truly broken.
Mahone: What’s the first?
Linc: Macramé.
Sucre: Maricruz! *bleed*
T-Bag: One way or a-nuh-thuh, angel-boy, Ah am gonna go bi-bl’cal on yo’ ass cuz you are jus’ lackin’ that kill-ah een-stinc--
Michael: *Thwack!*
T-Bag: *GIRLY SCREAM!*
Michael: We all have our crosses to bear.
Sara: Lance?
Kellerman: Got your back, sister-girl.
Mahone: As it turns out, Michael, neither of you are killers. I wish I could say the same for myself.
Michael: You are out of your mind.
Mahone: That’s why I need yours.
Ep. 222
Pam: Alex, this is all so sudden. And weird but not wonderful because, while being with you again would be wonderful, I can’t help but feel that it would ultimately spin our lives beyond all sense and cohesion.
Mahone: But there will be animals and coffee and beaches and structure is so overrated! Trust me, it’ll be magical.
Linc: Let ‘em go, man. Take it from Dr. Livingonborrowedtime -- don’t drag them into the Endless Vortex of Suck that has become your sorry existence.
Mahone: Nobody asked you.
Linc: Also, the last thing you need is caffeine.
Kellerman: ... and that’s what happened. It’s been swell. Adieu.
Linc: Cocaine?! How much? What if you were cau-- uhm, thank you?
Michael: On the bright side, you’re alive and we still have the money.
Sara: On the brighter side ...
Michael: *swoon*
Linc: Wouldn’t it be awesome if it all just ended right now?
Kim: Wouldn’t it?
Sara: *Bang!*
Linc: *Flee!*
Michael & Sara: *Flee!*
Pad-man: Increase the suction on the EVS to level 3.
Michael: ...
Mahone: ...
Bellick: *gurgle*
Michael: *sigh*