Yes, as you could probably tell from my open letter to Prison Break, this week's episode took things from silly to full-on ludicrous. I'm not saying it wasn't fun, but man oh man, sometimes it feels like this show is plotted out in between the commercial breaks. Nevertheless, when we last caught up with our naughty escaped cons, poor T-Bag was strapped to a radiator with the cops closing in on him. Well, this week, he was still there, and just as we expected, he was contemplating tearing off the hand he had so carefully repaired, thanks to that highly skilled veterinarian who just happened to be adept at, you know, reconstructive human surgery.

Well, the cops eventually busted down the door to the house T-Bag was holed up in, but was he there? Yes and no. His hand was behind the radiator (ooh, that'll smell all sorts of delicious come winter time!), but T-Bag was long gone. Of course, you'd think the cops would have no problem chasing down a man who just left the area ten seconds prior, but nah. They didn't want to exert themselves. Besides, just because T-Bag's fresh, bloody stump was most definitely leaving the most potent trail the K-9 unit had ever encountered, there was no need to bother the dogs on such a lovely summer day.

Meanwhile, over in some hardware store in New Mexico, Michael was busy buying GPS and what looked like various test-tubes filled with, I don't know, something. Yes, it appeared as though he was going fishing, but since we know this show better than that, we knew this material was probably the basis of creating some sort of Maguyver flying device that would transport him to Panama. Unfortunately for Michael, the cost of all these items was a tad too expensive for his fugitive tastes, and so he did what any man on the run would do: he took the items and bolted. The old man behind the counter tried to stop him, but he was no match for Scoffield. Michael pushed the old fogey back, causing him to fall back into a giant pile of soda coolers. Destruction like none other!

"Just take it! Please don't hurt me," the old guy pleaded, suddenly losing his vigilante streak. Yes, the old adage is true: Igloo coolers will always break a man. I'm sure the fella later woke up in the middle of the night screaming, "THE COOLERS! THE COOLERS! FALLING ALL AROUND ME!! THE COOLERS!!!"

The horror! The horror!

Well, Michael ran out of the store and hid behind a building where suddenly he was attacked with oh so many vivid, awful, horrendous memories. Oh, how this long, terrible journey has tortured him so! He's witnessed so many horrendous things, hurt so many innocent people! He's become a monster! How many more unwitting bystanders must fall victim to his soda cooler wrath??

With a pained look on his face that seemed to say "ACTING!", Scoffield suddenly looked up, and who was there to save him? You guessed it: JESUS! That's right, Michael spotted a church nearby and decided now would be as good a time as any to confess all his Igloo-related sins. Pushing an old guy into a stack of coolers: that can haunt you. That can haunt you real bad.

Guilt!

Redemption!

Sorrow!

PASSION!