Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

When were you going to tell us about this experiment?
Not quite the range or the punch of the AR-50...
Could've been any of them as far as the cartel's concerned.
Back in '96, '97, Tuco and I were working...
...we've gotten nearly 200 phone calls since this one airing.
Sorry about the floor.
...and I quit the law for good.
No, I don't think I did.
Which, I don't need to tell you, does not reflect well on HHM.
So--
Let-- Let go.
- I've heard they're prone to jam. - It's been known to happen in the field...
You won't have to do any time.
Perspective.
Anyway, Tuco develops a taste for it...
One at a time. Guy comes in, transacts, then the next.
That's why you put the screws to Kim, to squeeze me!
Are you looking for Miss Wexler?
How exactly do I not get seen? My car, at least.
Please leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.
For pointing out her one mistake was believing in you?
You could say that.
Did you get any sleep?
Strictly to save money.
...before they sent it into a damn jungle.
...was he sitting on your knee, with your arm up his ass?
Now, this one airing, it was an experiment and as such, by any measure...
...through a random stipple machine press.
Tried and true, battle-tested.
She's back in the cornfield, isn't she?
After Ronald passed, I moved to an assisted living facility.
My wallet in his pocket.
A dead Tuco draws Salamancas like flies.
You know how I got this?
...you're still gonna be at least 20 minutes late for work.
She didn't say anything to us about that.
"You think I'm an idiot, Dog?"
Nothing's perfect, of course, but this is close.
That's mine.
- Yeah, I'm still here. - Hmm.
She knows you. She should have known better.
I don't need anything at this time.
Yeah, go, go.
Tuco and me, that's our spot. He always sits facing out.