Dr. Johnny Fever -- one hell of a raker. That is all.
Dickstein walks in on Ramon, Cunningham, and Dr. Smith as they assiduously study Avon catalogs for clues. "Dwayne and I sent a message to those responsible for Shaun Yost's disappearance," Dickstein reports, with a touch of pride. Ah, but did they get the message, Dickstein? That, the lawyer doesn't know. Just then, Palaka strolls into the bar, eliciting a barrage of stares from the people already there; his attempts to strike a casual pose do nothing to alleviate the discomfort. "He wonders what did you do with his bear?" Palaka finally asks. "He's keeping company with Teddy," Cunningham replies. See? Did I not call it? Play date. "He'd also like to be ascertained what's going on in here," Palaka adds. "Just boys being boys," Cunningham says, innocently enough. Palaka leaves to go report this intelligence to Freddy; if you ask me, I think he was visibly wounded that no one invited him to play in any reindeer games. Just then, Dwayne walks in with his laptop. "This is big," he says. So we keep hearing.
Outside, Freddy fiddles with a pay phone that probably hasn't been used since calls cost a dime. "What do you got?" asks Palaka, emerging from the bar. "Anything?" Freddy seems vaguely embarrassed that someone saw him doing that. Or maybe, like Palaka, he's visibly wounded, too. We've got more important matters to get to back inside the bar.
Like the message Dwayne got on his computer -- it's a whole lot of stick figures, about a dozen or so by my count, of varying sizes. "Contact," Dwayne says simply. And that's not all, if we follow to where Ramon is pointing -- the facade over the bar is lined with stick figures too -- about fifteen of 'em. "Avon calling," my closed-captioning says, though the sound decidedly does not say that. "I didn't know I had placed an order," a beaming Barry does say. Outside, Palaka and Freddy still fume about being kept in the dark.
The media horde has descended, once again, upon the Yost home, only this time, instead of ducking around the back, Mitch is out in front fielding questions. Yes, we hope it's just a case of Shaun failing to check in. No, we don't think his weirdo companion is necessarily a threat to him. Yes, there is just about anything in the world I'd rather be doing right now than talking to you horrible people. And yet, Mitch is there, talking to them -- that's admirable. Watching from the kitchen window, Butchie says as much. "Dad looks like he wants to take poison," Butchie says. "Wonder if he tells those reporters he can float...like a blimp," Cissy snorts. Well, he can float, Butchie counters: "I saw it." "Who cares what you saw?" Cissy fires back. "Or how many figures show up on that harelip's computer screen?" "Me," Butchie says simply. "It makes me believe he's coming back." "That and two dimes of dope, you should be sitting pretty," Cissy scoffs. Annnnnnd, wresting the title of Most Hateful Yost away from Mitch this episode is...Cissy! Let's give it up for Cissy, folks -- she truly is a contemptible witch. Don't believe me? When Butchie says that he's heading out to go spend some time in the water, Cissy tells him to "try to find time to fuck yourself on the way." Oh so many ways to respond to that -- "Well, you would be the expert in that department, wouldn't you?" would be my choice -- but Butchie chooses the path of the bigger man. "It's going to be all right," he assures her. Apparently stunned not to have someone to sink to her level, Cissy turns her fury elsewhere: "Where is fucking Kai?" she demands. Probably somewhere waiting for Shaun, Butchie suggests. And he exits, leaving Cissy to stew in her awfulness.