[ EU ] Walter and Jesse successfully get Tuco Salamanca to ingest the ricin-laced methamphetamine at his desert ranch .

`` Stink or no stink,'' Jesse said, `` one bump -- you'll be flying high for days.'' 
 
 Walt inwardly celebrated. Jesse was a better salesman than he could have anticipated. Tuco, that degenerate psychopath, bought the pitch, 100 %. He had a sample of the ricin laying out on the tip of his bowie knife. He eyed it with the wild, desperate look of a junkie chasing after a new high. 
 
 Jesse rambled on: `` It's a new product him and I been working up --'' Tuco bent forward, his nostrils flaring, ready to snort -- `` Careful when you hit it. It kicks like a 12-gauge when it comes on --'' He was about to do it! -- `` And it's got a secret ingredient.'' 
 
 Tuco stopped. He sat up straight again. Walt cringed. 
 
 `` What secret ingredient?'' Tuco asked. 
 
 Jesse grinned. `` Chili powder,'' he said, nodding. 
 
 Tuco sat motionless for a beat that felt like an eternity to the two hostages. He sat there, scowling, inscrutable. Walt wanted to die and just get it over with already. But then Tuco laughed that awful, bullyish, staccato laugh of his. `` Chili powder,'' he repeated. `` Tight, tight. I love that shit.'' 
 
 He bent forward again, plugged one of his nostrils with a forefinger, and snorted. 
 
 `` Ghh --'' He stood, wiping his nose, rolling his shoulders. `` The hell was *that*?'' he said, coughing and sputtering. `` This new product of yours is *shit*. It does n't do anything. It's like snorting flour that someone farted in.'' He coughed and hacked, and did n't even cover his mouth to do it. `` Jesus, this tastes like something died in the back of my mouth.'' 
 
 He waved, indicating both men, and adopted a commanding stance. His face shone with sweat and spittle. `` You two? You might be chemistry whizzes, or whatever? But I could n't sling this crystal if I loaded it in a catapult. Stick to the blue stuff.'' He turned and headed toward the kitchen, cursing in Spanish. 
 
 Jesse wrung his hands. Turning, he hissed: `` Mr. White -- did it work? When is it supposed to kick in?'' 
 
 `` Soon,'' Walt said, firmly. 
 
 And as if on cue, Tuco dropped the tray of meat in his hands. It clattered to the ground. Tuco followed. His legs gave out underneath him and when he tried to prop himself up on his arms, those gave out too. His jaw banged against the grimy tile floor. 
 
 `` Whadjew do to me?'' he slurred. He reached out and tried to drag himself forward, tried to grab for them from across the house. `` Whadjew do? Whadjew do!'' 
 
 Tuco lost the ability to speak. His voice became a shrill whine, as if all the oxygen had been forced from his lungs. He seized and convulsed. He flopped around like a dying fish, and the air became rank with the smell of his voiding bowels. He began to vomit, but having rolled onto his back during his death throes, his body could not complete the emesis and he choked. He let out a gurgling death rattle. Bubbles formed and popped on his lips. 
 
 Jesse sunk back against the couch cushions, his face wan with horror. Walt sat, elbows on knees, and watched placidly as Tuco expired. Tuco's senile uncle dinged his bell over and over. 
 
 `` Jesus,'' Jesse breathed. `` What *did* you do?'' 
 
 `` *I* did n't do anything,'' Walt was quick to correct. `` *We* tricked him into poisoning himself.'' He had to raise his voice to be heard over that incessant bell. 
 
 `` You did n't tell me it would be -- like that!'' He motioned in the direction of Tuco's still twitching corpse. 
 
 Walt sighed. `` Ricin is an acute neurotoxin. What were you expecting, honestly? It got the job done.'' 
 
 Jesse was almost beside himself. `` Jesus, Mr. White. Jesus! I'm gon na have, like, post-traumatic stress from this.'' He massaged his face with both hands. `` Okay, yeah, it had to be done. But ca n't you at least show a little -- a little emotion or something? How can you just watch someone choke to death on their own puke and not give a shit?'' 
 
 Walt stood. `` It's done, all right? What's done is done. If I could have used a poison that made Tuco lie down and die peacefully in his sleep, I would have. Now are you going to help me finish this or not?'' 
 
 Jesse's eyes shot between Walt and Tuco's uncle, who was still ringing that bell. `` You do n't mean --'' Jesse began. 
 
 Walt groaned. `` Use your head, Jesse. I would n't kill an invalid. I mean that we need to bury Tuco's body.'' 
 
 `` Well -- okay, sure -- but what *about* him, huh? We ca n't just leave him here when we're done. We might as well kill him now if we do that.'' 
 
 Walt held up a hand to stop Jesse yammering. `` When we get back to town,'' he said, `` I will phone the authorities and leave an anonymous tip that an old man has been abandoned here.'' He paused, thinking. `` And when we get home,'' he continued, `` we will go our separate ways, and we will never speak of this to anyone.'' 
 
 Jesse joined Walt over Tuco's body. `` Go our separate ways,'' he laughed bitterly. `` Yeah. How many times am I gon na have to hear that one before it comes true?'' 
 
 -- - 
 
 Outside, Walt and Jesse dug frantically at the dusty, rocky Earth. It was hard going under a shimmering New Mexico sun and a cloudless sky. Walt had his shirt off, wrapped around his bald head like a turban. 
 
 Jesse panted between words. `` This is -- bullshit --'' he said. His shovel clattered with each scoop he took. `` Why do I -- have to keep paying -- for your screwups?'' 
 
 `` Shut up and dig,'' Walt grunted, too tired to argue. 
 
 On the distance, Walt heard the crunch of gravel underneath tires, and the high-pitched squeal of an engine going silent. Walt knew Jesse must have heard it, too, because he stood up straight and his bright blue eyes went wide as saucers. 
 
 The two men clambered out of the shallow grave. Tuco's body, half-wrapped in a sheet, lay beside it. The car was parked just around the corner of the house. 
 
 `` Are those the cousins?'' Jesse said. `` They're not supposed to be here yet!'' 
 
 Walt did a strange little dance, glancing this way and that, trying to work out the best thing to do. He could n't think of anything. On impulse he grabbed the assault rifle he had stolen from Tuco and peeked around the corner. 
 
 The man who stepped out of the car was not one of Tuco's cousins, though. It was Hank. 
 
 `` Jesse Pinkman!'' Hank said, shutting the door. `` You're a hard man to find. Come on out, I've got a few --'' 
 
 As Hank rounded the corner, he stopped short. He locked eyes first with Walt, who was still holding the gun -- then with Jesse, who was a few paces behind -- and finally settled on the corpse of Tuco Salamanca. 
 
 Hank and Jesse were mirror images: mouths hanging open in shock, stupefied, silent. 
 
 Walt swallowed hard. He wiped his mouth with his free hand. `` Hi Hank,'' he said, shrugging.
