Anyhow, Linc and Zack Morris are brainstorming ideas for finding Shaun. Zack Morris suggests hiring the private investigator from nearby Del Mar who "made Wonder Boy's date-rape thing go away." Wow, he said that a little bit more casually than you'd care to hear, as if allegations of sexual assault are bothersome hassles like engine trouble or telemarketing calls during dinner. I'm not sure you're an ethical dude, Zack Morris. Anyhow, Linc thinks it's a swell idea to use that P.I., but mostly, he seems preoccupied by the sight of Butchie's van outside the surf shop, which suggests that Butchie is inside. Things ended poorly between Butchie and Linc, if you recall. And if you don't, Butchie walks out of the shop right then and catches sight of Linc; he begins striding purposefully toward Linc, who is now turning several different shades of white. If I didn't know better, I'd say the look that flashed across Linc's face strongly suggests that his sphincter just puckered. "Every fucking promise I ever made, I broke," Butchie tells Linc. "Do what you gotta do," Linc tells him. So Butchie pops him one in the face -- he seems fairly ambivalent about it, for what's worth. "There's one in a row you kept," Linc says, checking to make sure his jaw is still attached. Jerri runs over from the café across the street to scold the boys for not doing anything to bring Shaun back -- no, but they are entertaining me, which is something -- and to let them know that "the Harelip thinks he's onto something." Hopefully, whatever it is, it will lead to even more punching.