The bands are told to assemble on a boat. In their van, SHITEATER says that FLICK are "a bunch of pussies" and will "be drunk and crying" when they find out they lose because they think that FLICK thinks that "it's inconceivable that [CRACK] is as good as [FLICK]." People, this is how the CRACK acts. When they come to play your town, know they're talking shit about the people they're driving away from, and will kiss your ass when they're right in front of you, and then will drive away trashing you. Grade-A, 100-percent assholes, with a lot of drive and a little talent and no heart at all. I wouldn't even go see them for free to make fun of them in person. Bob calls FLICK "pantywaists" and says he's "starting to kick some ass," and I have to laugh, because he is so full of shit that it's leaking from every orifice. Bob is such a tool. Bob is a toolshed. Bob is Home Depot.

The boat is very deluxe, with champagne and sushi and everything. The bands chow down and wait to hear who the winner is. FLICK hugs each other, and SUCK smiles smugly. The breakdown of tour earnings is:

FLICK: $6,947
SNACK: $10,894

CRACK has a lead of $3,947. Fuckers. But check this out:

BoB scores:
SUCK: 185
LICK: 218

FLICK WINS! FLICK WINS! And for the music! "We won for all the right reasons," says Brandin. And that smug fuck Beastie isn't even bummed. "The only reason I would have been upset would have been if we hadn't done our absolute best." Oh, so you worked like dogs and lost anyway and feel fine about it? Fine. Keep on living like that. You'll explode one day. Maybe you'll eventually learn that success is enjoyable too. Bob says he "didn't think FLICKERSTICK didn't deserve it." That's generous. Sutton says he thinks FLICK "are incredible." That was nice. Corey asks the unanswerable: "How did we make it?" Brandin points out that this sort of victory "can only happen in rock and roll." And thank god for that. Rock on!