Outside the surf shop, Kai is locking up while muttering sarcastically about "another day of sensational business," while Shaun has reached the conclusion that it's his mother who's got Cissy acting more unpleasant than usual. Shaun wants to know why his mother would come back. "Probably see you," Kai offers. "Probably see your dad," she adds, with just a hint of bitterness that Shaun notices. "Come on, get in," he says, getting into what I can only assume is Kai's jeep and not his, since he's like 14. "I'll stick around and give things a chance to work out." That there is the triumph of youthful optimism over the reality of bitter experience, young Shaun.

Butchie is meeting Tina at a local coffee shop, doubtlessly to deliver the news of Cissy's veto. "Tell you cunt mother that if it's because I'm no good, that's one thing," she says, and I honestly pity Butchie having to serve as the go-between among these two. "But if it's 'cause I left Shaunie at the door, I didn't leave him because I didn't care. I stopped an hour before, and I didn't leave him. 'Cause when I rang the bell and waited across the street, nobody answered. And I came back, and got him, and sat with him in the cab. And when she came home, I came and rang again. And I didn't walk back to the cab until I saw she got him." Well, Terrific Mothers Monthly won't have to worry about tearing up this issue's cover story, but at least it's more insight into the not-altogether-monstrous mind of Tina. Her point: she was in no position to properly care for a kid, so she left him with someone who was. Tina gets up to leave and asks Butchie to tell Shaun that he grew up handsome and congratulate him on his fine win and near-death experience in the competition. "Come on," Butchie says quietly. "Tell him yourself." Well, that's one Yost on your side, Tina. But I suggest when you repeat the story about leaving Shaun at the doorstep to Cissy, you leave out the whole "cunt mother" preamble.

As night falls on Imperial Beach, Cass and John have returned to her hotel room -- really, if she's off Linc's payroll and broke, how come her room hasn't been re-keyed and her luggage deposited in a dumpster? -- doubtlessly to edit all that wondrous footage of Hare Krishnas and drum lines into the most tedious YouTube clip ever. "Work here, Cass," John says, touching Cass's cheek. And he keeps his hand there, while Cass paces about the room, wondering if maybe she might should re-align herself with Linc, lest this stupid movie she filmed today go unfinanced and unwatched. All this cheek-touching understandably unnerves Cass, who tells John that maybe he oughta unhand her cheek "and go up in the air like I saw Mitch Yost do in this very room." Cass has figured out that something's going on and that John seems to be the middle of it. Perhaps that's why she removes John's hand from her cheek and puts it on her left boob; "Go up in the air for Cass-Kai," she instructs John. "The camera's up in the air," John says. Oh, I'd say a lot of things are up in the air, my man -- Mitch, the camera, the point of this goddamn show. Cass seems as irritated by all this as me: "Get your hands off me," she says, releasing the hand she put on her own boob. "It's in the camera?" Cass asks incredulously. "It's in the camera," John repeats before tapping his left boob. "Work here, Cass," he says. This is like an Abbott and Costello routine only without the laughter. It's in the camera. What's in the camera? I don't know. Third base.