Back at the surf shop, Shaun has shown the ingenuity that has made America great by turning a Diet Coke can into a makeshift bong. It's the great taste of grass with just a hint of NutraSweet! That's Ganja-flavored Diet Coke -- ask for it by name! Kai arrives just in time to kill the buzz on this burgeoning party. The Diet Coke bong is consigned to the recycle bin, and Shaun's pleas to flee to someplace else in San Diego County are dutifully ignored. Anyhow, Kai decrees that the shop is going to open for business and that Shaun will hang out there and not give her any grief. That is our takeaway from this scene -- that and the fact that no matter how delightful you might find the work of Greyson Fletcher and Keala Kennelly (and mind you, I like them both fine), any scene where it's just the two of them acting opposite of each other is unlikely to wind up on The Actors Studio's "Do This" reel.
Back at the fancy-pants hotel, Linc's unusual approach to foreplay -- grasping his chest and contemplating his mortality -- continues. Tracy repairs to the bathroom to dampen a cloth for Linc's fevered brow. That makes Linc feel a little better, but not enough to carry through with his and Tina's hastily-negotiated liaison. Boy, I hope he kept the receipt. "We don't give refunds," Tina says. That's no way to generate repeat business, young lady. "You want me to leave you a Midol?" Tina asks as she walks toward the door -- Linc says he'll pass on the menstrual-cramping medication and, presumably, the insult to his manhood that her offer implies. But he would like to know his would-be hooker's name. "Tina Blake," says Tina Blake. Linc looks positively impressed, though Tina can't believe he didn't recognize her. "I never let myself watch porn," Linc says. "Otherwise, I'd never do anything else." Really? Not even watch sports? Because you can use a picture-in-picture feature to do both. Or you could set up a whole bank of TVs to watch the two. Or...I've thought this through a little too much, haven't I? "I feel like I'm meeting Babe Ruth," Linc says, with more than a hint of admiration in his voice. "Did he fuck a lot of people at once?" Tina mutters. Well...probably. Though not on film. At least not in the talkies. Linc introduces himself. "I feel like I'm meeting Babe Ruth," Tina replies. Did he have chest pains before trying to bone a porn star?
Cissy, still a smoldering cauldron of split-end rage, picks up the phone and places a call: "Yeah, just to let you know, wherever you're being useless at the moment, that piece of trash your son came out of is back in I.B." Ah, so she'd be calling Butchie then. Unless of course she has another son she regularly showers with abuse -- it's entirely possible. Outside, Mitch has packed up his things and can be seen departing the premises for what seems like the seventy-third time in five episodes. Seriously -- if you have to take off a shoe to count the trial separations, it is perhaps time to move the hell on. "I hope you're fucking happy," Cissy snarls into the phone, as she watches Mitch leave. Well, he's not around Cissy at the moment, so he's more likely happy than un-.