(Please note: These diaristic recaps of the final eight episodes of AMC’s Breaking Bad are written from the point of view of Walter “Flynn” White Jr., the son of Walter and Skyler White. Given this conceit, certain liberties will be taken with Flynn’s characterization, story lines, and awareness of events. Barring the flash forwards, which won’t be included and would amount to little more than pure, stupid speculation, as many scenes as possible will be chronicled in these recaps, albeit tangentially, through the eyes of Flynn.)
Breaking Bad Season 5 Episode 9: “Blood Money”
Excerpted from The Diary of Flynn White
Dear Diary,
I have two words for you: POOL PARTY!!! What a great day. Wow. Feel kinda dumb for how sad I’ve been. Dumb me, ha ha ha. Whew. Let me explain. Today Aunt Marie and Uncle Hank came over for a pool party, and it was no lie at least a million times better than our last pool party (mom, :(, the pool, you know ). Even though no one went swimming it was still great. Dad grilled burgers and I pushed Holly (my little sister) around in her thing and mom didn’t look at all suicidal. Just like old times! Even when I saw Uncle Hank go into my parents room to use the bathroom (um, kinda presumptuous, right?), it was just like old times! But you should have seen his face when he came out. I’ve had The Runs before but omg. His face looked like he had found out while pooping that his brother-in-law was the sociopathic kingpin murderer of a meth ring. So Uncle Hank had to go, which stunk, but still what a great day. I was so worried before that my family was ruined, but now I know for sure everything will be a-okay. Ah!!!!
Mood: Great
Dear Diary,
My pal Joe from a couple streets over called me today. Weird voicemail. He said that he saw Uncle Hank crash his truck into a birdbath or a mailbox (can’t remember) on his (Joe’s) neighbor’s lawn. And then he said that Uncle Hank had a panic attack! On the lawn! Yeah, right. Uncle Hank is the best, stablest DEA agent on the whole force, with or without his limp. He would never crash into a birdbath. Or have a panic attack. Or hide the incident from his kingpin murderer brother-in-law who he never suspected of being a kingpin drug murderer. That’d just be crazy! Like, as if Uncle Hank would spend a whole montage piecing together the thousands of obvious pieces leading to his brother-in-law’s kingpin murderer-ness. No way. Uncle Hank is too good a cop for that. And panic attacks. And ran-over birth baths or mailboxes (can’t remember). Voicemail=DELETED. Joe on Facebook=DE-FRIENDED (jk).
Mood: Pretty Good
Song: “Somebody that I Used to Know” by Gotye
Dear Diary,
Dad told me a BIG secret today. Do you want to hear it? Well I can’t tell you, because he made me promise not to tell anyone. …bbbbuuuutttttt…OKAY, you talked me into it! According to dad, the carwash is doing so well that he and mom might buy another one. Isn’t that great? I’m so glad we don’t have to worry about money anymore. SO. GLAD. Although I guess dad could always go back to playing blackjack if the carwash sprinklers broke or whatever. Or if a female middle man for a global meth operation confronted dad about going back to cooking meth since his replacements produce 68% meth instead of 99.9% meth, which would force mom or dad (can’t picture it) to bitch her out MAJOR. Even then dad would still have his blackjack to fall back on. I was so worried before that my family was poor, and Louis would go to ASU without me, but now I know for sure that everything will be a-okay.
PS. Should ask dad to teach me how to play Blackjack.
PPS. Do girls like blackjack? Asking for a friend. 😉
Mood: Feeling lucky.
Song: “Tumbling Dice” by The Stones
Dear Diary,
Louis asked me an interesting question over Skype today. He asked me, “If your name was Jesse Pinkman and you had millions of dollars that you earned selling meth and murdering innocent adults AND children, what would you do with it?” I think you know what I told him. I told him, “I’d probably try to give it to my lawyer to give back to the families of the innocent adults AND children I murdered, since it would be the only consolation I could offer. Although my lawyer would never allow it since the money would lead right back to us. Which would make him send over the murderous meth kingpin to lie to my shattered face over and over and over until I believed him out of total spiritual exhaustion. Then I’d probably just throw the money out the window of my Gremlin.” That’s what I told Louis. Not gonna lie. It was a pretty dumb question. Plus I would never murder an innocent adult OR child. I wouldn’t even murder a guilty one of either. I’m kinda like my dad that way. He and me wouldn’t hurt a fly!
Mood: Full of Questions
Song: “Gravity” by John Mayer
Dear Diary,
Remember that book of poems by Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, that was in my parents’s bathroom? Dad can’t seem to find it. You know how much he loves poetry and reading and being smart. So this must really suck for him. He’s been up all night searching for the book. He even checked under his car. Like a book of poems would ever be under a car! Although, I guess, is that any crazier than the time I found a whole pizza on our roof? IDK. It did look like he found something though. I think it was his old beeper. IDK. Dad can be weird sometimes, but I love him anyway. I read some of the book when I was going number 2. I can understand why he’s upset. A lot of it is pretty. “I am Flynn, I contain multitudes.” I’m a poet, and I didn’t even know it, ha ha ha. Time for bed.
Mood: Sleepy
Song: “Sleepin In” by The Postal Service
Dear Diary,
Dad went over to Uncle Hank’s today. Not sure why. Maybe Uncle Hank borrowed Dad’s poem book? Maybe the beeper Dad found was Uncle Hank’s? Not sure. I’m sure they’ll work it out. I hope when I get married I get along with my wife’s siblings as well as dad and Uncle Hank get along. I hope I don’t get cancer and have to cook meth to ensure my family will be provided for after I die. And I really hope I don’t become a murderous meth kingpin. And I really really hope my brother-in-law won’t figure out that I was a murderous meth kingpin, forcing me to stare at him with my corrugated sociopath face and tell him to OH WHAT AM I TALKING ABOUT!?! Dad is probably checking on how Uncle Hank’s belly is. Wait. Not probably. Definitely. So lucky to have a dad like him. I was so worried that dad would never be the dad I loved again, but he totally IS, and now I know for sure that everything will be a-okay. Until next week.
Love always,
Flynn
baby pictures of famous dictators 
