Deadwood
Plague

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Plague

E.B. is back on the job over at the hotel. He goes into Mrs. G's room with a stack of fresh linens, and I am distracted for the moment wondering if we're supposed to believe now that people in this town change their sheets, ever. Mrs. G is still feeling awful and tells him to leave, immediately. "Of course," he says, and walks slowly out, knowing now that she is not at all high.

Doc is attending to the shivering Joey as Al and Cy look on. "We should chat this all out," Al says to Cy, who grudgingly agrees. "Why don't we do something together?" Al continues. "Us and several others." Cy mutters "all right," but it's painfully obvious that he doesn't care about any of this.Meanwhile, Jane has made her way back to camp. Staggering down the street, she is confronted by a miner, with whom she has a brief staring contest. She wins. "If I had that mug on me," she slurs, "I believe I'd cut down gettin' told how butt-fuckin' ugly I was by not starin' at fuckin' strangers." She's classically drunk, talking to herself, rambling on about how she has a right to come back and inquire after the little girl, whom she helped save. She's surprised to find the Doc's shack door unlocked and yells loudly that "it's Jane Canary callin' for Doc fuckin' Cochran." Receiving no answer from within, she announces to no one that she believes she'll fuckin' wait.

Al hurries back to the Gem, where Dan tells him that Trixie's waiting upstairs and E.B. is waiting in the kitchen. "Quit drinkin' a few hours," Al says to Merrick, who is still at the bar. "We're having a get-together." Turning to Johnny, Al tells him to "buy some fuckin' fruit or the like." (Heee. Y'all don't know this, but in a future season of Deadwood, Al's going to open a party-planning company and call it Fuckin' Get-Togethers. Dude's gonna make a fortune on his fruit trays.) He heads back to the kitchen to see E.B. "If that widow was high," E.B. says, "I am a monkey's uncle." Al pauses, no doubt wondering if the obvious joke is too easy, here, and we cut away.

Johnny is worrying about his cater-waiter orders from Al. "How much fruit?" he asks Dan, in a panic. "How many's a fuckin' get-together?" Dan can't say, but he suggests that now is not the right time to go asking Al.

Upstairs, Trixie is waiting alone in Al's office. It always makes me nervous to see them alone together, considering the many beatings we have already seen him give her, but instead of a boot on the neck, he comes in jokingly asking if she tossed his office while he was gone. "I know what's in this room," she says. Al gets right to business. He asks her directly if she's been giving the widow the dope like he asked her to do. Trixie says she has, and that Mrs. G goes behind the screen where she dresses to take it, to spare the little girl from seeing it. "And when she goes behind where she dresses to spare the child," Al says, "do you see billows of fuckin' dope smoke rising?" Trixie says that Mrs. G says she eats the dope. "Does she look high to you?" Al asks, and Trixie answers that she can't be sure, really, as she's never seen a rich person get high. Too bad she wasn't watching Oprah the other day when stupid James Frey was on. Everybody involved with that show was rich AND high. Anyway, Al smiles at this, and goes to the safe. Getting a new ball of dope, he tells Trixie that next time, she's to go behind the screen with Mrs. G and watch her eat it. "How am I supposed to do that, Al," she asks, "without arousing her suspicion?" Al puts the brows into overdrive and tells her that the only suspicion she needs to be worried about is his, "of if you're giving it to her all." Aw, damn. Trixie plays the innocent. "Why wouldn't I?" she asks, all big-eyed. Al crosses his arms. "I'd rather try touching the moon," he says, "than take on a whore's thinking." He reminds her that if the widow is not high the next time E.B. comes to call, Trixie will be held responsible.Downstairs, Trixie passes E.B. with a withering look. When she's gone, Al joins E.B. at the bar and updates him on his chat with Trixie. The whore who had the smallpox john that morning goes running by in the background. "Damsel in distress," E.B. says. He asks Al if he'll want him back for the get-together. "How the fuck could we do it without you, E.B.?" Al says. E.B. smirks. "The truth isn't in you, Al," he says. Al takes a shot and responds that "that makes two of us."

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Deadwood

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