Couple of three notes about this sequence: 1) It was as unpleasant to listen to Rebecca DeMornay scream these lines as it probably was for you to read them all capped and italicized like that; 2) the thousan-yard stare that Butchie has throughout this -- remember, he's there in Kai's trailer -- is priceless; and 3) what strange social hierarchy exists where the deadbeat surfer junkie family can look down upon the porn stars? These are questions that will haunt me long after Rebecca DeMornay's voice stops echoing in my ears.

Back to the hotel, where Linc is still operating under the theory that Tina is some sort of hooker -- man, this is just like an episode of Three's Company, only much, much skeevier. But just before they can begin with the always uplifting act of human love in exchange for carefully negotiated sums of cash, Linc notes that he's having chest pains. Or maybe this is some freaky-deaky role-playing thing he's into -- quick, I need CPR...only I think you should administer it much, much lower. Nope -- he's having legitimate chest pains. Well, that will kill the whole hooker-john bond of trust.

Out at the pier, Vietnam Joe is still busy ruminating about all he's heard and seen the past 24 hours: "I put Frat Boy in my truck. He took my hand to his belly...and said I could help. And if I wasn't wasted or it wasn't a joke, I did. He took my hand to his belly...and he healed." At that precise moment, Joe catches a fish. Uh oh -- looks like Dr. Smith is going to have some company in the disciple camp soon.

Back at the lavish Yost estates, Mitch is meditating. Never has the act of quiet contemplation and reflection been so utterly contemptuous. Because there weren't enough jerks in this scene, Cissy storms in still stewing about the return of Tina -- since Shaun's miraculous recovery just hit the papers yesterday and Tina couldn't possibly have been keeping tabs on Shaun before that, Cissy reasons, this is obviously some carefully timed money-grab. She goes for her cigarettes -- "Do not smoke in here, Cissy," Mitch says. "Jesus Christ," Cissy screams, because that is what she does. At this point -- flustered wife, family situation in flux, general chaos afoot -- Mitch decides it's high time to bring Cissy up to speed on his levitation status, in that he did it and it wasn't a hallucination like everyone thought. "So what about the fascinating sinus-infection theory?" Cissy sneers in a way that implies she didn't find it fascinating in the least. Mitch counters that his levitation "was witnessed." This, Cissy finds even less fascinating. "Forget it," Mitch says wearily. "Well, thanks for the okay on that," Cissy snaps back. "Let's see how long it takes me. There. Done." Mitch tries to stammer out that his levitation might be connected to something -- presumably John's arrival or perhaps Shaun's resurrection -- but Cissy interrupts to observe that Mitch is a jerk. Which is a true enough observation, though still, it's kind of rude to interrupt a guy mid-exposition. "Instead of floating," Cissy says, with increasing hostility, "I wish you could fly 500 miles an hour into a fucking brick wall." Now, who's being the jerk, hmmm? Cissy reaches for her smokes; Mitch snatches them away. Argle-bargle grumble rage! Cissy goes to smoke in the house; Mitch makes plans to slink away from his unhappy home life. I feel like I'm watching a rerun here.