Shaun rides up on his skateboard and asks if he can crash with Butchie and John. "You can crash with me," Butchie says. "He keeps running his mouth, John may be hospitalized by then." Speaking of the Mouth-Runner, he emerges from the motel room carrying his camouflaged wetsuit. "They want to sponsor us," Shaun says. And who would that be? Shaun shrugs. And Butchie does what I would have done about ten minutes ago -- he loses his temper and grabs John by the shirt, demanding to know where he and Shaun disappeared to. Linc steps in and offers to talk to John; Butchie can talk to Shaun. "Butchie hurt my tit," John pouts. Yeah, lot of that going around lately.
Are you wondering what Freddy and Palaka are up to? Good, because I'm going to tell you. A call came on Freddy's cell phone that Palaka intercepted -- Moana's in town. You remember Moana, right? He was mentioned waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back in Episode Five, when Freddy mused about turning over his pharmaceutical concern to him. I guess that's going to happen now. Or Moana's coming to shoot Freddy. Or a little from Column A and a little from Column B.
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.