The double-stick-figure video clip is also on the screen of the computer in Cass's room, where Butchie is knocking on the door to inquire as to John's whereabouts. "He's not here," Cass says through the door, before adding softly, "that I'm aware of." Butchie asks if he might come in for just a second. And by "come in," he means burst through the door, pin Cass up against the wall with a finger against her chest, and snarl, "Your roommate took my kid." It's hard to tell if Cass is more disturbed by Shaun's disappearance or the determined look in Butchie's eye, but she agrees to tell him what she knows about John's comings and goings.
Back at the café, Dwayne is finishing another dissertation on how the message could well mean that Shaun is safe, but Jerri and Cissy aren't buying it. Jerri suggests that maybe it's a ransom note as opposed to a threat, while Cissy frets that it could be both. "Wouldn't this be a good time to involve the police?" Dwayne asks tentatively, proposing a question you probably arrived at ten minutes ago. "Sure," Cissy scoffs. "They hate us, and who the hell do we say John is?" Yeah, not really following the logic there, Cissy -- I'm pretty sure the police have to at least go through the motions of investigating a crime, even if they don't much like you or if the perpetrator is a bit of an odd duck. Anyhow, Cissy's already stormed out to go looking for Shaun, leaving Dickstein, Jerri, and Dwayne to draft a response to Shaun's abductors. It's sure to be florid and filled with many complex sentences, I'd guess.
Back at the hotel room, Cass is screening the footage she's shot of John for Butchie. To Butchie's credit, he did not pass out from boredom several minutes ago. "Where's the fucking canoe trip to Yosemite?" he finally asks. Oh, how Mr. Sobell laughed and laughed and laughed some more when he heard this line. At last -- someone else recognizes that Cass's stupid movie is about as interesting as watching vacation slides. He got you, Cass -- he got you good. In the meantime, Cass walks us through John's creative process: "He'd say 'drive,' and then he'd say, 'stop,' and then he'd say 'work here.'" Too bad he didn't also say, "Film something more interesting." Anyhow, Butchie's seen enough of Scenes From My Day With a Weirdo. Cass suggests that maybe John is operating on some form of automatic pilot. "Yeah, maybe he's a commercial plane," Butchie mutters. No, no, let's hear Cass out: "Like he hears something, and his program tells him what to say back." If that's the case, Butchie wonders, who came up with that programming? Perhaps the great Programmer In The Sky. Or His interns. Yeah, most likely His lowly paid, somewhat resentful interns. That would explain so much about John. Anyhow, Butchie scribbles down some phone numbers for Cass -- his, Cissy's, Tina's -- and orders her to call should John show up. Then he apparently feels bad about that whole barging-in-and-poking-Cass-in-the-chest business: "Did I hurt your tit or anything?" he asks regretfully. He did not. Fellas, be sure to work that phrase into your regular lexicon, and watch your reputation for gallantry skyrocket.