One Big Fat Tear

5 p.m. to 7 p.m.
3.6.06

There are a couple of things people hate seeing fat men do. They are, in no particular order, eating, dying, and dancing. Last night, I would have rather seen Edgar doing a jig and stuffing the new 12-inch Subway pastrami sub down his throat, then to see him die at the conclusion of the two-hour deathfest that was 24.

I cried for the fat man. He was only checking on hot Keri, hoping to plant seeds for the IT ménage-à-trois he was planning with Scowl-Face. But he didn't make it. As every fat man eventually will, he died at the hands of gas.

His last word was "Chloe," the name of the girl he was gearing up to ask out. Instead, his giant mass fell to the floor with a resounding "thud" that shook the world, both because of his weight and because of the gravity of the situation.

Even Jack cared for Edgar. He told the other woman to get lost after she pounded on the glass, but allowed a soft "Oh no" to escape his lips when he saw Edgar.

For a second I thought that Edgar would be ok, that years of ingesting every toxic Big Mac, French fry, and deep-fried candy bar would have made him immune to such bio-terrorism. As always with science, I was wrong. (I'm only good at predicting when things explode in a microwave).

So let me take a moment as I throw this greasy pizza with sausage and pepperoni on the ground for Edgar Styles. Enjoy heaven. I'm sure it's equipped with a 24-hour buffet and wi-fi capabilities that God is stealing from New Jersey.

Tony's having a bad day too. He has awoken from his coma-nap and is demanding information about Michelle. And, in true CTU fashion, it's suggested that they lie to Tony about his wife because his blood pressure might rise and his heart could explode, causing a big mess that no one wants to clean up. CTU has no janitors, only security guards equipped with dustpans, which is why they are useless most of the time.

Tony: "Can you send a message to Michelle? Tell her I'm alright?"
Old Man Buchanan: "Yea sure. If you want, you can write something down and I'll put it on her cold, dead forehead with a tack."

Sure, the truth hurts, but it's better than going to a computer and having it say DECEASED all over your loved one's name, followed by pictures of their dead body in case you were too dumb to get it the first time.

Dr. SayNothing: "If you press this button, you can actually see the explosion in reverse. See? Michelle alive. Michelle dead. Michelle alive. Michelle dead…"

Now that Tony's single again, he'll return to his booze-filled afternoons when he eyed his pistol, trying to think of someone to kill.

Back in White House land, Crazytown has survived the limo attack. Now she's itching for a bitching to her dopey husband who didn't stop the attack on the limo and wasn't there afterwards to give her a hug. Aaron, the red-headed secret service guy was there, but they aren't allowed to hug anything (trees, people, corners).

It wasn't until Novick found her and told her of the special "prayer-time" he shared with Logan that Crazytown started to let a little bit.

Crazytown: "Charles prayed? On his knees? And did you know I smoked?"

Yea what? There have been 13 episodes and only now she's bringing out the cancer stick? Buuuulllllshhhiiit. If she truly smoked, she would have been lighting them up right after she got felt-up by Walt the Molester.

So now Crazytown is back in the circle of trust with the Prez, mostly because Novick wants the VP (Logan's evil twin. Logan's not evil, just stupid) out of the picture. Apparently anyone who calls Logan up on the phone or comes in with a flashy presentation will not only get his full attention, but will get his full cooperation as well.
VP Evil Twin wants to declare Martial Law, but to do so in a way that they don't have to call it Martial Law.

Novick: "This has to go through Congress."
Evil Twin: "Not if we call it something sexy, like Clarence Thomas Law."
Novick: "So instead of mass chaos, we have mass sexual harassment where people would just put their pubic hair on everything. Nice."

They have to do something because Warlock is threatening to release more gas and this time in a hospital. A hospital? C'mon Warlock, you were the son of Satan. You're better than that.

The Death Cans are being put on the "Maximum Causality Setting" instead of the "April Fools Setting." The only difference between the two is that the April Fools one has confetti fly out instead of gas. It's a hit at Russian birthday parties and bar mitzvahs.

The timer added more drama, especially when Curtis ran with it from the basement, up the stairs, down the hall, past the front desk, through the front door, down the sidewalk, through a taco bell, and finally into the van.

All the while his team of CTU blockers kept yelling out "Make a hole! Make a hole!" (haha, I yelled that during sex once). After this, Curtis and his team should create a flag-football team and take over the league with their "bomb-running play."

But the threat isn't over. There's a multitude of Death Cans left and, unknown to Old Man Buchanan and company, CTU is the next target, thanks in part to the Little Bitch who's in detention because he threw a fit an hour ago.

Why did he throw a fit? Because his coked-up sister and her metal boyfriend beat him up for his wallet, which contained his CTU keycard.

He's calmed down now and regained enough sense to throw Old Man Buchanan his patented "Goonie Face" that gets him free phone calls in prison and extra sauce on his Arby's Roast Beef sandwich.

Metal boyfriend has a plan. He's been roped into selling said keycard for a cool $20,000, which he will then use to coke out his girlfriend even more to help her lose this last annoying ten pounds (which would bring her to the socially-acceptable weight of five pounds). That, and coke lines are much better when they're made with a government keycard.

Coke-Out Sis: "Who's gonna pay you $20,000??"

Apparently no one. The ugly-faced terrorist with the bad accent shows up and kills them both, execution style. This is a shame, since I was waiting for a coke-fueled rant in the future. Alas, I'll just have to head to Mexico soon, where I can find a coke-fueled anything for a buck and a quarter.

Speaking of coke-fueled fun, Jack has found a new strategy in the game of anti-terrorism. He convinces people he's dead and jumps out of closets to surprise them. You actually don't need coke for this, but it does add to the hilarity.

Anti-Bauer thinks he's dead, so Jack has showed up at his house, toting his satchel and gun. But Anti-Bauer isn't home. He's off at the bank, getting an obscene amount of cash, leaving Jack to catch-up with Marion, Anti-Bauer's wife and an old friend of Jack.

Unfortunately, when Jack plays catch-up, he uses a gun and very loud words, making a normal conversation virtually impossible (most people aren't willing to yell that loud).

Marion: "Why do you hate him so much? He loves you."
Bauer: "…He's taller. And he stole my lunch that one time."

I now know why Jack has Chloe. He's afraid of computers. He doesn't know how to work them and looks upon them with distrust and misguided rage. They don't find anything, save for some music files. And though it's distressing to see someone listening to Hilary Duff songs, it's not a felony (yet).
There is a super secret file that has a password Marion doesn’t even know. They shouldn't have wasted their time since it was probably Anti-Bauer's stash of Asian porn.

Bauer: "Chloe there's a computer here. I need you to walk me through this."
Scowl-Face: "Just don't shoot it Jack. Computers are your friends. Remember? It's on that T-shirt I gave you."

The computer doesn't work and now Anti-Bauer is home, so it's off to plan B. More yelling and shooting legs.

Anti-Bauer: "Oh that's good Jack, start at the knee, just like I taught you. Go ahead. I'm fucking Robocop. I'm all metal and rage."

Everything is metal, even his heart since he was willing to put his wife in a wheelchair instead of divulging his "Pandora's box" of secrets. And why the knee? Is that where the truth lies? Not the elbow or the ear?
Anti-Bauer is now being brought to CTU for "medical interrogation." This is when they inject someone with a combination of the bird flu, chicken pox, and the heebie-jeebies.

(Hey, X-Men 3! Kick ass!)

Back at CTU Kim Bauer, the Hellchild, is waiting for Jack, the dad she thought was dead. And she's the hell-child because wherever she goes, hell follows.

(Haha. Chase left because he couldn't handle it. Hand-le.)

Accompanying Hellchild is Ratboy, a clinical psychologist who got into the profession so that he could bag vulnerable chicks, despite his rodent-looking goatee. And though Jack wants to beat Ratboy's ass, there's no time.

The ugly faced terrorist is in the building and has brought a Gas Can in with him. When Little Bitch finally fesses up to losing his keycard (did the terrorists really think no one would know about it for four hours?) the alarm goes off and Old Man Buchanan calls for a Code Six, which is the code to go crazy and scream. Buchanan also calls for this code when he's out at the bar.

And just like at the bar, Bauer refuses to break the seal. The sealed-off room houses a selected group of main characters who pass the time making bets on who will last the longest with the gas.

Which finally brings us back to Edgar, shuffling into the middle of the CTU and shedding one big fat tear. I'll throw another slice of greasy pizza on the ground for him. It's what he would have wanted. That and maybe a quick boob-shot from Chloe. That way he would have died seeing a boob other than his own.