No scary, wet, drippy Walt-or-maybe-not-Walt, no Claire, no Turniphead, no Sun, no Jin, no Sayid, no Rose,
no Bernard, no Vincent, no Dorothy’s Uncle, no Desmond, no French Chick, no Cindy, no Gorton’s Fisherman,
no other Others, no polar bears, no sharks, no Lostzilla, no Black Beauty.
When Eko-Wan and Locke go out to track Dorothy’s Uncle, why don’t they ask Sawyer for a gun?
Libby’s alive! AnaL is NOT!
Uh-oh Michael.
Eko-Wan, the fake-Aussie-priest.
Locke is gonna track, in the jungle, at night on crutches? Eko and Locke are a little bit like Lucy and Ethel.
Head-butt!
“You hit me. Why did you…”
“Because you were being difficult.”
I am going to start head-butting the difficult people in my life.
Locke dares to question Eko’s dream? Theresa falls up the stairs, Theresa falls down the stairs…
It’s daytime, nighttime, huh?
Can you imagine waking up on an autopsy table?
The drug plane!
“It was up there.”
“And what made it fall?”
“Boone. Boone made it fall.”
Yep, I laughed. I love Terry O’Quinn.
Poor Hurley.
Dead Yemi in Locke’s dream.
Claire’s psychic!!
Fraud? Then why did he give Claire $6K and send her off to the airport?
A salted target? To prevent anything from growing and obscuring the target?
New Hatch! A lot of fucking hatches on Craphole Island.
Wow, Locke cheered up right quick.
Guilt, Michael. I hope you feel it.
How is Locke able to climb down that ladder?
Another Dharma symbol. Imagine that?
Home theater.
Surveillance!
Remember those dot matrix printers?
Drive-thru banking air-tube-sucky-thingamajig.
The Pearl Orientation Film.
Unless he has an identical twin, Dr. Marvin Candle has a new name, Dr. Mark Wickmund
3 weeks, 8 hours a day, record the lab “rats” every move, then hop on the ferry?
Bet Locke feels like a frigging sucker.
www.sublymonal.com
1-877-HANSORG
“We are being tested.”
“We do it because we are being tested.”
John’s pathetic little life.
Sydney airport, Claire’s psychic’s not-really-dead daughter. Jeez, her accent sucks.
Yemi! Again! For a dead guy, he’s quite busy.
He’s got ya there, Locke.
Jack about to shoot Libby up with junk.
“I’m sorry I forgot the blankets. I’m sorry I forgot the blankets.”
*skyy cries*
“Michael!” and she’s gone.
Bad Michael! Bad! No wonder your animal-summoning-freak of a kid turned out the way he did.