We ain't missin' no cook. These guys are so screwed. Einstein's goin' down. And Pinkman, that little punk, I hope Gus hangs your corpse out the window by your eye sockets. What kind of genius lets himself be held down by some junkie, anyway? Granted, I barely have a clue what the hall I'm doing, but meth is meth. The basic recipe is always the same, so who cares if I waste some of Gus's ingredients to prove a point? Do you two really think you can just kill anyone who gets in your way and mess up his plans? Man, you have no idea.
And here comes the boss now. Weird, he's suiting up. But I bet he knew the recipe the whole time. The man's always one step ahead of everyone else's game. I bet he doesn't even need anyone's help. He just likes to have someone else do his dirty work as long as they respect him. Yeah, that's right, dynamic duo. Your services are no longer needed. You better be crappin' your pants now.
Hey, why is Gus holding Gale's old box cutter?