We're in Kai's trailer now, which doesn't answer the burning question: what the hell is Cissy doing there now? This seems to be straining the bounds of the surf-shop-owner/surf-shop-employee relationship. Anyhow, we soon figure out what Cissy's doing there -- she's come to reclaim her firearm, which she finds under Kai's mattress. That gun has now made more appearances in the last two episodes than Bruce Greenwood.
Back at Vietnam Joe's van, Bill has either rethought his lack of a position on enjoying a good spliff, or he's experiencing the mother of all contact highs. At any rate, the barking about his fibromyalgia has ceased. With his binoculars, Joe spies someone matching the description of John's assailant -- Mexican, male, ambulatory -- and hands the binocs over to Bill, who takes a peak and orders John to "confirm the sighting, trooper." John takes the binoculars from Bill...and uses them to stare at Joe. Ah, hilarity. Bill redirects John's gaze to the suspect: "He stab you, yes or no?" Vietnam Joe points out the folly of phrasing any question to John that way and -- as if to illustrate his point -- John agrees: "He stabbed me, yes or no." As Bill and Joe re-evaluate how they're spending their afternoon, John sets down the binoculars as a serious expression comes across his face. "Better she tries to kill me and fails than tries to kill herself," he says. If we're talking about Cissy, John, let me be the first to say: let's not be too hasty here. Nevertheless, John shuts his eyes and passes out -- the first time he's closed his eyes for any length of time in this series, by the way -- and a confused Bill declares that John is unconscious.
Or not. Definitely not. Because not one scene later, John's standing in front of Cissy's kitchen window while she's staring at the gun, thoughts of suicide visibly on her mind. "Cissy Yost!" John says, and those thoughts have turned to homicide, judging by how quickly Cissy reaches for that handgun. "Are you sitting in your kitchen on 7th Street, thinking about blowing off your head with your gun you got back from Kai's trailer?" John intones, in the manner of that flooring commercial he was listening to earlier. "Have you completely run out of whatever let you put up with your asshole husband for thirty-one years? Do you feel that everything you ever touched in your entire life, you turn to shit and mud? Are you ashamed, Cissy, that once, when Mitch was on one of his bullshit retreats and you were loaded on acid, and Butchie was thirteen and he had just won his first contest and you were so proud of him for not being Mitch and you went into his room and he was whipping his skippy and you said, 'Let me show you how to do that'?" Okay, that's probably the most disturbing run-on sentence I've ever heard. Also, it explains a lot. Also, also: yuck. To illustrate his point, John makes the international symbol for jerking off; Cissy gasps and covers her mouth. John speeds up his motion; Cissy grabs the gun and pulls the trigger several times. The gun clicks, but there are no bullets in the chamber -- stupid Kai practicing stupid gun safety at a time like this. "Have you wanted to kill yourself every day since, Cissy," John continues, "and not even known it? And turned yourself into the worst ball-buster known to man so that no one would be with you and you wouldn't have to be afraid that you would ever do something like that again? That's how ashamed of yourself you were?" Cissy's sobs seem to indicate that the answer is yes. "Do you think now that Shaun, who you loved so much and tried to make a life for, now you turned around and hurt his feelings so bad? Do you hurt so bad, that you just want it to quit and be over? Everything?" Now Cissy is nodding. "Well, let me tell you about our offer, Cissy," John says brightly. Unless it involves her not screaming anymore, John, I have to say, I'm not interested. "We prefer you don't," John continues. "We wish you wouldn't." Cissy -- John does not speak for all of us. "Our offer is, keep going," John says, "feeling just as miserable or worse. Hold the gun under the spigot and turn the water on. Spare Shaun finding you dead in the kitchen, and as a bonus, you'll also receive his love. Act now, Cissy. Baptize that fucking pistol." And Cissy does. When she looks up from the sink, John is gone. I think she should have held out for improved flooring.
And now we get to meet that fiancée who has Dickstein so scared. And no wonder -- no one puts a surgically-altered Baby in a corner! Because the fiancée is played by Jennifer Grey, people -- or at least, her duly-appointed stand-in. Anyhow, Jennifer Grey -- Daphne is her character's name -- thinks Dickstein has been spending too much time around this Barry Cunningham fellow and all his weird little hangers-on. Dickstein points out that Cunningham's retainer tops his annual salary by $12,000 since he graduated law school. And what if Cunningham's relatives try to argue that he's a few numbers shy of a complete lottery ticket, Daphne asks. Cunningham doesn't appear to have relatives, Dickstein points out. "And I would contest that motion," he adds. Anyhow, at the café where these two lovebirds are dining, there's a funny-talking bald guy who's apparently a Butchie Yost groupie who runs a Yost website, apparently from the café's computer. He is only interesting because his apparent love interest is none other than Trixie of Deadwood fame. Ah, Trixie -- you were on the Milch show that didn't require me to review the entirety of Western Religion within half an hour of watching your program just to make heads or tails of what's going on -- how I miss you. The other notable thing that happens here is that when funny-talking bald guy gets all agitated, Trixie lifts up her tank top and slides it over the guy's face. I have got to start eating breakfast at a different sort of establishment. Anyhow, the scene ends with Daphne insisting on meeting all of Dickstein's new friends. Dickstein, I suggest you warn her in advance about the Hawaiians.