Mr. Mercedes

Previously on "Mr. Mercedes"...

How's school and shit? You don't talk much about it.

It's fucking Harvard. It's Ivy League. Case closed.

Montez: So, what you're saying is, he shouldn't

still be lying here?

I can't make him sit up and talk.

But you led me to believe that you could.

Barry... in R&D, he just showed me this prototype.

It's an eye-brain thing.

What if you... practiced what you would say to Brady?

Fuck... you... you sniveling little prick,

and you'll never hurt me again.

Did you know that Sadie thought Hartsfield

was communicating with her?

The moment Sadie jumped,

Brady's EKG, through the roof.

Can I get a copy of those reports?

What are you doing?

I know that she's been feeding you information.

I'm gonna walk through

your investigator's license review myself.

Stay away from Mercy Gen.

Montez threatened to pull our license.

Donna: To knowingly go down that same rabbit hole...

this time, taking Jerome and Holly...

Do you even know what the hell you're doing?

Al: I don't understand.

I don't understand.

Someone killed my dog.

If you help me with this...

I will forget about what we discussed yesterday.

[ Mississippi John Hurt's "I Shall Not Be Moved" plays ]

Come on, Kermit. Stop dragging your feet.

Kermit, Kermit.

Isn't the brain a wonderful thing?

Remember that Dr. Seuss book, "Oh the Places You'll Go!"?

That pretty much sums it up, don't you think?

Don't move. I have your dick in a clinch knot.

Pretty withered, as peckers go.

My guess... one yank, it'll come right off.

Aah!

Maybe I put it on eBay.

Although, I'm not sure who would bid on it.

Ida, maybe.

Donna, no. Seen it.

Holly?

I used to have a little choo-choo train

when I was younger. Used to pull it around.

Choo-choo! Choo-choo! Ah!

Where were we?

Yeah, the human brain.

Fascinating.

Look, this could be real, or you could be having a nightmare,

which would mean you were having a dream

of you having a dream when you were younger.

Let's think about that.

If, while asleep, the machinations of the mind

are complex enough for you to be having a dream within a dream,

all the while factoring actual conscious obsessions,

is it any wonder the line between reality and fantasy

sometimes gets a little blurred?

Okay, if this is a dream,

then you'll likely wake up any second,

in which case, if you want to ask me anything,

now is kind of the time, Sport.

Go ahead.

Did you make that nurse jump off the ledge?

Ooh, interesting question.

Though it doesn't make much scientific sense

for me to be able to control the actions of other beings

from my hospital bed, does it, Kermie-Wormie?

That would make me rather Godlike

and you a pretty dumb shit

to be picking a fight with the almighty.

Oh, shit, where's my head?

Your morning routine... You can't think straight

without your morning piss, can you?

All right, big guy, I'm sorry.

Up you get. It's pee-pee time.

Come on. Let's be having you.

Come on. You can do it.

I-I-It's pee-pee time.

Okay, big guy, lots to do today.

Choo-choooo!

Okay, now, don't mind me.

Relax.

Just let it happen.

Take your fucking piss!

Ida: Seriously?

Yeah. I mean, it was... It was beyond vivid.

He was sitting right on the edge of the chair,

string tied to me dick, tugging on it like a little choo-choo.

Okay, um, I'm gonna make a suggestion right now,

one that is sure to repulse you.

Ugh, you're not gonna propose sex again, are ya?

Well, Bill, actually, I don't think you're that lucky a guy.

So, no, what I'm gonna say is

you need to get yourself into therapy.

Ah, for fuck's sake.

Bill, you're sitting here,

making room for the possibility, however slightly,

that a vegetative man...

led you by your penis to your bathroom

on... on... on what?

On a... on a dog leash?

No, it was just a piece of twine.

Sorry, no leather involved.

Lookit, I know it was a dream, all right?

A dream no less preposterous

than your obsession that Brady is a body-snatcher.

Honestly, Bill.

You never had a weird dream or two, no?

I'm talking about your reality.

Your procreational digit was in a noose.

Now, I'm no shrink,

but I just think it represents some sort of crisis

in your sense of your mortality.

Give me a break.

And I'm not finished.

You know it's rude to turn away when someone's talking to you,

right?

Especially when that someone is me.

The fact that it's Brady,

there's puppeteering, and then there's puppeteering.

Here's my question...

How fucked up do you want to be?

Pathetic.

Deformed.

Weak.

I had to have three surgeries to fix what you did.

My perforated small intestines?

Oh, yeah. Ulcers.

The internal bleeding almost killed me twice

in the first week.

You know, the worst of it...

It... it's been...

me against the world my entire life, you know?

And I've had to rely on

being able to tell the good from the bad,

to know danger when I see it, and I didn't see you.

No, you didn't.

Oh, fuck.

I had this tricycle when I was a kid.

It was the... one thing my parents left me.

My foster parents had it,

and I used to ride that shit around the RV park.

And one day, this couple came with their kid.

She was about the same age as me... Megan.

And Megan's dad beat the shit out of my foster dad,

said he'd stole from him.

He went inside the trailer,

and he brought back a TV and radio and some other shit.

And then he tried to take my tricycle.

And I fought.

Whew!

I fought them.

I fought them like a little crazy maniac.

And, finally, they held me down

and they flipped over the tricycle,

and underneath was a name written in black marker.

Never noticed it before.

"Megan."

Th-that was the most worthless that I've ever felt.

Until you stabbed me.

Y-You know what I don't get?

You held that knife an inch from my fucking eye.

Why didn't you finish the fucking job?

I was painting a bigger masterpiece that night,

and you got away.