Outside, Butchie's having a heart-to-heart with his son: "Don't you understand, Shaunie? This shit's freaking me out." From the SeaWorld disappearance to John's little warnings to John's little warnings coming true, it's all getting a bit freaky here. So 'fess up, kiddo -- where were you? Shaun doesn't know, though he does tell his dad that he "sort of" recalls that "they had some pretty fun ones." And he also agrees that he "sort of" recalls that "they" want to sponsor him. Butchie asks what he means by he "sort of" remembers this stuff, and he Shaunie says he remembers to say all of it. You can understand how Butchie -- filling in for the vast majority of the viewing public, from what we can tell -- finds these answers unsatisfying. "Jesus Christ!" Butchie exclaims. "What did they do to you, Shaunie? Where the fuck did you go?" Shaun's got an answer for that one: "Cincinnati," he says, pointing skyward. Oh, so Cincinnati is heaven now? The existence of both Jerry Springer and Pete Rose suggests otherwise.

Back at Chez Yost, Cissy continues to react to Mitch's ongoing levitation not with amazement or fear or scientific curiosity, but rather with general annoyance. Where's Dr. Johnny Fever? she demands. He's off visiting Mitch's bullshit hippie CVS, apparently. So Cissy dials up Bill to have him come over and keep an eye on Mitch; judging by Mitch's reaction, he probably would prefer the whir of the ceiling fan to Bill's company. But he doesn't get much say in the matter. Cissy runs off to do some errands, leaving her husband to fulfill Lionel Richie's chilling prophecy.

Butchie and Shaun are exchanging friendly handshakes, while Linc and John resume their verbal sparring. "Let's say you're not from around here, John," Linc begins. Everybody: "Let's say I'm not, Linc." "Chocolate, vanilla," Linc continues. "Everyone's from somewhere, so you're not from here. On the other hand, finding out you're not from here is a bit of nut-nudge for us earthlings." A nut-nudge, by the way, sounds very unpleasant. "I can't imagine your old man wouldn't know that," Linc concludes. John can't imagine such a thing either. "That's your Father's point, with the camo and stuff, scare our balls off?" Linc asks, gesturing toward the wetsuits. "You hear my Father's words," John replies. "You hear them better in Cass's camera." And with that, John pulls back the paper covering the freshly stenciled shuffleboard court to reveal that it says 9-11-14-10-OFF. Oh my -- that means...absolutely nothing to me. Sorry. I'm sure it's very significant to someone somewhere who isn't necessarily named "David" or "Milch." Linc wonders who's supposed to see this. "You hear my Father's words, Linc," says John. Which I take to mean that either Linc has finally figured out what's going on or he will soon enough. Or maybe he and John are just going to play some shuffleboard.