If the Final Season of Breaking Bad Was Written by Dr. Seuss (Part II)


[Spoilers below. Also, click here if you missed Part I of my ridiculous poetry.]

When last we left Hank he was thrown for a loop

From a book that he read as he took a short poop

All at once the wool lifted from over his eyes–

Double W’s told of old Walt’s old disguise


Meanwhile, young Jesse had grown more morose

And no meth, or “blood money,” or cannabis dose

Could cure all the guilt or the anger inside

So he went for a midnight-ish charity ride


Which caused some alarm to both Walt and his lawyer

(Who longed for some distance from former employers)

Walt tried to “talk sense,” asking Jess’ to “believe him”

Intending, of course, to just mostly deceive him


Soon Hank is confronted by Walt at his place

Which predictably ends with a punch in the face

Yet in spite of Walt’s illness his eyes become sprightly:

“If truly you don’t know my name, then tread lightly”


Though Hank’s accusations made sense in his head

The trail had gone cold (with most witnesses dead)

But luck came along in the form of poor Pinkman

Who held the whole key for the hole Walter’d sink in


‘Cause Jesse got smarter than Walter expected

And punched through the lies Walter’s walls had erected

Then punched through the face of his lawyer until

He’d acquired the truth ’bout a poisonous pill


And Hank—until now all alone on his mission—

Soon found on his side a meth-headed addition

But ‘fessions from Jesse were far from airtight

When it came to the name of this one Walter White


Hank’s crew needed proof but weren’t sure how to get it

They needed a trap but weren’t sure how to set it

Then Jesse remembered his Heisenburg’s faults

And the millions in cash that one can’t keep in vaults


And soon it appeared that old Walt was defeated;

That Hank and his crew had the info they needed

To lock Walter up for the rest of his days

Then the Nazis showed up with their guns all ablaze


And Walter, despite his high-ranking IQ

Accident’ly began what he couldn’t undo

As he sobbed in the dirt near the motionless Hank

He had no one on earth but himself to un-thank


The damage he’d done just refused to reverse

And despite all the bullets  the Nazis dispersed

Walter made the trek home in an old, battered truck

It had finally happened: he ran out of luck


His fam’ly: dismantled, his empire: done

It seemed an eternity since he had “won”

As a husband he’d lost all respect from his wife

Her hatred was voiced by the edge of her knife


And Jesse, for all of his bluster and brave’ry

Succumbs to Todd’s terribly tart taste of slave’ry

He’s forced to flash-cook the sky-bluest of meth

Lest his ex and her son get some-something’d to death


Meanwhile, Walt vanishes into thin air

As the world’s toughie-scruffiest, bald millionaire

His fam’ly gets threatened by Todd and his crew

And Walter, for once, has no clue what to do


So Jesse keeps cooking (and bruising, and bleeding)

Exceeding percentages Todd had been needing

But fine’ly decides that enough is enough

And escapes from his cuffs just to call Nazi bluffs


Alas  for poor Pinkman, those bluffs follow through

And there wasn’t a damn thing in hell he could do

To keep Todd & Co. from their murderous reign

So he stayed in their basement with legs wrapped in chains


But Walt wasn’t done, he had plans of his own

He was still the damn king, and would not be dethroned

He had some loose ends that required some tying

And some of these ends would require some dying


But first Walter needed to say his goodbyes

To atone for his years of perpetual lies

He packed some supplies in a four-door sedan

Then he set into motion his last master plan:


He met with the Nazis to work out a deal

That allegedly might reinvent their meth’s wheel

But the Nazis don’t buy it, and all appears grim

‘Til their boss, Uncle Jack, fetches Jesse for him


With one final scream and one purposeful dive

Walter stops all the Nazis from being alive

Then he takes a step back from his scraggly friend

And grants the poor boy the most perfect revenge


Jesse screamed at the sky as he drove out of sight

As a final goodbye to the lone Mr. White

To the man who had caused so much personal pain

For an ego inflated by personal gain


And Walter, at last, reaped the fruits that he’d earned

Leaving every heart broken, and every bridge burned

But Heisenburg’s body’s collapsing regret

Was one cook—just one last, perfect, beautiful cook—that he never would get.


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