"Hey Michael," Sucre said while eyeing the bowl of truth serum marinara with mild disgust, "I dare you to eat the artificial food."

"It smells like chemicals." Michael pointed out, "How could we be sure it isn't lethal? It could be another plot of the company's! They're trying to kill us all through undercooked prison noodles! We have to be extremely careful, and- SUCRE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"Whah?" Sucre said through mouthfuls of the food. "Everyone else is eating it, they're all fine. Except One-leg Stew, he just ain't the same. Not after the brisket. It's the brisket that always gets them."

"Sucre, back to the main plot." Michael reminded him.

"Right, sorry. Have some mystery meat-pasta!"

Michael scooped up a spoonful of the strange, seemingly edible food and raised it to his lips. His heart pounding in anticipation of doom, he put the failed attempt at cooking in his mouth and swallowed it. He waited a few seconds, and then sighed in relief that the pasta was not a government scheme.

"See? It's not that bad!" Sucre said, "It's just a little- I LOVE YOU."

"What?" Michael asked, shocked.

"I dunno! Why did I just say- YOUR EYES ARE SO PRETTY, THEY MAKE HEART SHAPED MARKS ON MY SOUL!"

"What is going on with- I AM NOT REALLY DIABETIC! I AM GOING TO BREAK OUT OF THIS PRISON! I HAVE CHUCK NORRIS'S FACE SOMEWHERE IN MY TATTOO!" Michael yelled, although nobody seemed to be listening.

The prison cafeteria erupted in shouts of random, disturbing truths that nobody really needed or wanted to know. Chaos took over as guards watched, helpless to stopping the weirdness spouting from the prisoner's mouths.

"This is a hairpiece!" A random inmate yelled, wildly yanking at his locks.

"I'm a woman!" said another.

"My bologna has a first name!" Bellick squealed, temporarily forgetting himself.

"Bellick!" Jim scolded.

"Oh, right!" Bellick said embarrassedly, "Everyone back to their cells!"

The inmates eventually reached their cells, but it took a while due to the random outbursts and Bellick repeatedly losing his train of thought. It took three hours, but Bellick and Jim managed to trick the inmates into their cells through an elaborate scheme involving a disco ball, Swedish rat terriers, and two sock puppets who wanted to help T-bag with his feelings. Those puppets are currently pressing charges.

Meanwhile, in John Abruzzi's cell:

John was pacing back and forth, an expression of pure dread on his face.

"Something is going on here." John thought, "If everyone is blurting their thoughts out, I'll just have to keep my mouth shut. I have a reputation in here. No problem, I just avoid certain people, I should be fine. I will be just FINE."

John took several deep breaths and wrung his hands nervously. When he was finally satisfied he had his thoughts and emotions in check, it came out of nowhere. It was rising like a tidal wave and he could not stop it any longer.

Gripping the cell bars with both fists and lifting his face so all of GenPop could hear him, John Abruzzi committed prison rep suicide.

"HARRY POTTER RUUULEES!!!" John bellowed. It is true. Although it was never disclosed, John Abruzzi is a dedicated Harry Potter fan girl.

A hush fell of the prison. Even Sucre shut up for a minute. But that hush was soon broken by a new announcement.

"LORD OF THE RINGS IS BETTER!!" T-bag roared at the public.

"Frodo is Harry Potter's bitch!" John shouted back.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" T-bag screamed, a manic glow in his eyes.

"Well he is." Seth muttered quietly.

"Shuttup!" T-bag scolded, raising an arm to slap his "boi".

Suddenly, Jim and Bellick conveniently hopped into GenPop.

"Cons! P! I! TIME!" Bellick shouted; spit flying everywhere, much to everyone in the vicinity's chagrin.

"I don't wanna!" Michael whined.

"Too bad!" Bellick said in mock sympathy.

A collective moan of annoyance escaped the crew's lips as they trudged to the guard break room to break things with their muscles and sweat a lot. Although the fan girls thought it was sexy, it was a chore.