Luke and Joan are walking to school as he regales her with his tale of woe: "So I got a little wrapped up in M-Brane theory last night and I forgot to call Glynis until really late, and when I finally did call, I get the wall of silence. Monosyllables -- sniffling, even. What is that about?" What it's about, Luke, is that each minute that's passed since you said you'd call, she's getting more and more upset and equating the delay with the idea that you don't really like her that much. Aren't you supposed to be a genius or something? Joan, vacantly: "Is this a math problem?" He persists: "Come on, do you and Adam ever fight about --" Joan: "Don't…even go there." Heh: "Written by Robert Girardi." Luke complains that it seems like in relationships, you can never relax. Joan: "Okay, discussing this with you is worse than what comes out of the bathroom drain." Suddenly some street goof/balloon "artist" comes up and hands Luke a balloon conglomeration. Hey! It's Pete! I haven't seen him in anything since the Dharma and Greg days. Luke asks, "What's this?" Balloon Guy: "That's your psyche." Luke: "Really? Cool." Joan eyes the guy suspiciously, and he gives her a look that confirms her suspicions. He mauls a hot pink balloon into some shape and hands it to Joan, who asks, "What's this? My psyche?" Isn't this the girl who last week didn't know the difference between Psyche the goddess and Psycho the Hitchcock film? I want to be the script continuity person for this show. I'd be good at it. Then I could live in Hollywood and my winter birthday would cease to be a climatic bummer. And maybe the Red Hot Chili Peppers would come and play at my fortieth birthday party and Keanu could jump out of the cake and shit like that. Man, that'd be cool. Hey, you live in the real world. See how much you like it.
Anyway, Balloon "Artist" God says it's a giraffe. Shouldn't God be able to make a pretty awesome balloon giraffe? I guess that would arouse a lot of suspicion. Luke decides to give his balloon psyche to Glynis, and takes off. Joan: "You're talking to my brother?" Balloon "Artist" God: "I talk to everyone, Joan. Some people listen." He pops one balloon, and she says, "You're not very good at this, are you?" He replies, "Good is relative. Beauty's relative. Everything's relative. Except for me. I'm absolute." Joan: "I thought that was vodka." He tells her to take a make-up class. She insists she hasn't missed anything: "…lately." A crowd of little kids is starting to gather around them. Joan: "Will you stop with the latex? Make up what? Which class?" Balloon "Artist" God: "You'll know." He tips his hat and leaves, herding the ankle biters along with him.