Oz, Season Six

O'Reily:
Hey Chucky, you've got a minute?

Pancamo:
For you O'Reily, I've got only 28 seconds. But the way you double-talk, it should be plenty.

Peter Schibetta:
Hi, Chuckie. What do you want to talk about?

Pancamo:
Oh, this and that. Life and death. My life...

Hill:
A man stands in a cemetery, reading a letter he wrote forgiving his long dead father. The mother of a girl killed by a drunk driver is racked by fantasies of retaliation. Your boyfriend begs you for one more chance. You say to the mirror you're done hating yourself. But you know you're not. Maybe instead of forgive and forget, it should be forgive and remember. Remember that you might have to wake up tomorrow and forgive all over again. And again,and again, the way your heart keeps beating like a drum. Forgive. I can't. You can. Forgive. Forgive. I can't. You can. Forgive.

Guerra:
Marriage ain't marriage without sex.

Idzik:
So don't you see? Everything that we do, the plans we make, the hopes we have, they're futile. Being good at a job, which I was, building a home, which I did, raising a family...which I had, none of it means anything because no matter how we try, how much we strive and struggle, it'll all come to naught. Life is a waste of time. So, that's why I'm counting on you to kill me. You will, won't you?

Hill:
Forget about having too much garbage, too many bottles, cans, watermelon rinds, disposable baby diapers and such. What's really terrifying in terms of the long term health of the planet is toxic waste. Toxic waste, you can't put two worse words together except maybe (pause) nuclear war.

Schillinger:
But Beecher knows too much about both of us. He's gotta die.

Keller:
Yeah.

Schillinger:
I'll deal with it.

Keller:
No, I'll kill Beecher.

Schillinger:
You?

Keller:
Before I whack him, I just wanna f*** him in the ass one more time.

Keller:
I concocted this whole god damned thing just to convince you that I'm on the up and up. Now, if I was really siding with Schillinger, Toby, you'd be dead already. But instead...all I really want...is for you to love me again. (Forces a kiss on Beecher)

Torquemada:
Miguel Alvarez. I hear you're the man to know.

Alvarez:
Whoever told you that was an idiot.

Keller:
I couldn't face living the rest of my life in here without you. Don't you see? I did what I did out of love.

Beecher:
I loved alcohol. I loved heroin. But I had to put them behind me because they were poison. Death. You... are death. Let me live.

Beecher:
If you really love me, then leave me alone.

Torquemada:
I have a little confession. You see, I'm a virgin. I've never had sex with man, woman, fish, or fowl.

Torquemada:
I don't want to f*** you. That would be too common. I want to be you, Miguel Alvarez.

Alvarez:
I am so tired. Tired of the lies, the hope, the emptiness, the fear, the death. I am so f***ing tired.

Cyril:
(As He is in the Electric Chair and the Hood is pulled over His Face)Mom what happening? What are They doing? Ryan? Ryan!

Schillinger:
You're dead, sweetpea.

Schillinger:
(realizing Keller switched the shanks) That cocksucker!

McManus:
All I know is that the move is temporary. We'll be back someday.

Hill:
So, what have we learned? What's the lesson for today? For all the never-ending days and restless nights in Oz? That morality is transient? That virtue cannot exist without violence? That to be honest is to be flawed? That the giving and taking of love both debases and elevates us? That God or Allah or Yahweh has answers to questions we dare not even ask? The story is simple: a man lives in prison and dies. How he dies? That's easy. The who and the why is the complex part. The human part. The only part worth knowing... Peace.

Augustus Hill:
Let me tell you, dying is a lot harder on the living than it is on the dead. Death really only hurts those left behind.

Len Lopresti:
Hey, everyone. Meet the new member of our club house.

Jaz Hoyt:
Kirk, you fucking cocksucker! You should be dead you little fucking prick!

Timmy Kirk:
Don't be angry, Jazz-man. It's not your fault I'm alive. The truth is, I can't die.

Jaz Hoyt:
Bullshit. Just give me another chance.

Timmy Kirk:
Won't do any good. I can't die.

Chris Keller:
Yeah, why is that, pumpkin?

Timmy Kirk:
Because...I am Satan. And Satan will never die.

Cyril O'Reily:
[in Jericho's voice] What you have to remember is that this is about power. You can not let these people take your power away from you. Remember, Cyril, you are the center of the universe. [Sees Keller looking at him] What the fuck you looking at?

Timmy Kirk:
[to Mukada] When I am executed, you will be stripped of your ministry, you will be abandoned by Holy Mother Church and you will spend the rest of your days wandering aimlessly and without hope. In death I will be triumphant.

James Robson:
I don't really have anyone else to talk to in this place.

Sister Pete:
That's what I'm here for.

James Robson:
You ever been scared of dying?

Sister Pete:
Oh, yeah. My first year here, a man named Warren Sticks, we were in the middle of a session and suddenly he leapt out of his chair and started to choke me. I blacked out, and when I came to I was lying in a pool of blood, his blood. He had slit his wrists with the edge of my tape dispenser. I realized he was attempting to knock me out so he could kill himself.

James Robson:
You remember that sensation, thinking you were gonna die?

Sister Pete:
Is that how you feel now?

James Robson:
I've felt that way every day since as long as I can remember.

Sister Pete:
How far back is that?

James Robson:
Much further than I'd like. I was Gerald Robson's only child. Even as a kid, you do what you gotta do to survive, 'cause when you're six, running away is not an option.

Sister Pete:
Did he beat you?

James Robson:
Oh, yeah. And worse.

Sister Pete:
Did he abuse you sexually?

James Robson:
It's funny, here I am 36 years old, and I got nowhere to run. You know? And I-I guess what what I want to know is: Is it okay to do whatever is necessary to survive?

Timmy Kirk:
You and me Jaz-bo, captured on film for prosperity.

Ray Mukada:
I just got a call from the Vicar general. Because Kirk is dead, Monsignor Slon has convinced the police to drop the investigation against me.

Sister Peter Marie:
You're back.

Ray Mukada:
Yes. My prayers have been answered. Pete...I prayed for Kirk to die.

Vern Schillinger:
Mayor Loewen.

Wilson Loewen:
Vernie, I wondered when you'd pop up.

Vern Schillinger:
It's great to see you, sir.

Wilson Loewen:
Is that mail for me?

Vern Schillinger:
Oh, yes. So, you comfortable got everything you need?

Wilson Loewen:
Yeah, mm-hmm.

Vern Schillinger:
You gave me quite a scare, well, when I heard you almost choked to death. When's the doctor releasing you?

Wilson Loewen:
I go back to unit J tomorrow. Christ.

Vern Schillinger:
Sir?

Wilson Loewen:
Another hate letter. Some nigger says I got off too easy. He says he's got a cousin here in Oswald who's gonna airhole me. What does "airhole" mean?

Vern Schillinger:
Kill.

Wilson Loewen:
Black bastard.

Vern Schillinger:
Don't worry your honor, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you.

Wilson Loewen:
Oh, yeah, is that right, huh? Well, from what I hear, the Aryans in Oswald are a sorry bunch. That guy who saved me from choking, Beecher, I hear you've been trying to airhole him for about six fucking years and all you have to show for it is that little scar above your eye there.

Vern Schillinger:
I did have his son killed. And his father.

Wilson Loewen:
What are you, an idiot? Saying shit like that out loud? You know, Vernie, I've got to tell you I never thought you were the brightest bulb in the chandelier. You always had this huge ego with nothing to back it up. You always had these big plans with no balls behind them. Shit. If it weren't for your daddy, I wouldn't have given you the time of fucking day. You're an embarrassment to the brotherhood.

Vern Schillinger:
I have balls.

Wilson Loewen:
Speak up, boy, I can't hear you.

Vern Schillinger:
 : Nothing, sir.

Arnold "Poet" Jackson:
Yo, what'd you call me? Yo, fuck you, you greasy old bitch.

Burr Redding:
Hey, Poet.

Arnold "Poet" Jackson:
Oh, what you think? I don't know where 122 Wayne Street is? Think again, bitch.

Burr Redding:
What the fuck's wrong with you, son?

Arnold "Poet" Jackson:
Man, she said she wasn't about to give up her credit card number to some strange spook. How the fuck did she even know I was black?

Burr Redding:
That's irrelevant. You hang up and calmly move on to the next call.

Arnold "Poet" Jackson:
No, man, fuck that, I ain't putting my pride on the line so some bullshit Senator can get re-elected.

Burr Redding:
Well, in that case, you're fired.

Arnold "Poet" Jackson:
What?

Burr Redding:
You heard me. Carry your lazy ass and that bad attitude off the premises! Move it.

Arnold "Poet" Jackson:
Fuck you, Burr. Fuck you.

Len Lopresti:
Okay, Cyril, time for another fabulous ECT treatment.

Cyril O'Reily:
What's ECT?

Len Lopresti:
Jesus, why is it every time, I got to tell you what ECT means?

Ray Mukada:
That's because electroshock causes memory loss.

Len Lopresti:
Oh.

TV news anchor:
And on a more controversial note, in a stunning defeat for state prosecutors, convicted murderer Jazz Hoyt's death sentence was overturned. Instead of being executed as scheduled, Hoyt will be moved to the Oswald Correction facility's psychiatric unit, and then later to the Connolly Institute, a hospital in Morrisville, which specializes in treating the criminally insane.

Ryan O'Reily:
This is bullshit! How come fuckin' Hoyt gets off and Cyril doesn't!?

Arnie Zelman:
Well, from a purely legal standpoint, the circumstances of each case are very different.

Ryan O'Reily:
So, you're telling me that from the eyes of the law, Jazz Hoyt's life is worth preserving and my brothers isn't?

Arnie Zelman:
Afraid so, Ryan.

Ryan O'Reily:
Goddamnit!

Arnie Zelman:
Unless our latest appeal is excepted by the court, Cyril dies, two weeks from Thursday.

Ryan O'Reily:
Fuck.

Antonio Nappa:
Back in the 60's, the department of defense created the Internet. Little did they know they were mixing concrete to build the global village. There's nothing concrete about it, though. People get digital mail from electronic boxes, they congregate in chat rooms that have no walls and no doors. Millions around the world have instant access to each other and stores and food and entertainment, but if it's such a revolution in communications, why does studies show the more time one spends online, the more isolation one suffers?

Pablo Rosa:
Yo, Rebadow, over here.

Bob Rebadow:
What do you want today, Pablo?

Pablo Rosa:
I want to know what the fuck your problem is, man. I mean, why are you treating Ms. C like a bitch?

Bob Rebadow:
She's not a bitch.

Pablo Rosa:
That's right. She's a nice lady. She's helping me ride out my time, and yet you're bringing her the fuck down. And the cancer? It ain't that big a deal. That's right, she told me yesterday. I guess she needed someone to talk to since you're acting like my younger fucking sister. Maria freaked out when my momma got breast cancer. Of course, she was eight. And mi Madre? She squashed that disease like it was a cockroach. I bet that's something you can identify with.

Ryan O'Reily:
Yo.

Cyril O'Reily:
Dad's coming to visit?

Ryan O'Reily:
Well, not visit exactly.

Vern Schillinger:
You're a dead man, sweetpea. [Vern is stabbed and realizes that Keller switched the prop knife] That cocksucker!

Tobias Beecher:
When God was designing the universe why did he make something so wonderful so fucking painful?

Sister Pete:
I think he thought we could handle it.