Dickstein's ongoing nostalgia trip -- "Trestles, 1979. To see you surf was all I wanted for my bar mitzvah" -- finally drives Mitch to seek the dubious comfort of some other less talkative person and causes Bill to intervene. "You're a fifth fucking wheel around here, Dickstein," he says, dispatching him to make sure Bill's truck isn't disassembled by "marauding lowlifes" in the motel parking lot and to "make sure that that fruit gets home." Dickstein points out that Cunningham has his own car. "Hybrid," Bill spits out with disgust. "Which the marauders won't bother. And if the fruit's allowed at the wheel, I'm liable to drive off a bridge." Dickstein asks Bill to make his goodbyes for him; Bill will be doing no such thing. Observing this exchange, Mitch wonders out loud to Butchie if Shaun will confirm that Bill was driving him up to Huntington. "He's not much of a liar," Butchie says in response. Mitch sighs and braces himself for the marital tête-à-tête that's sure to go down once his wife gets sprung from the pen.
Speaking of the incarcerated half of the Mitch-Cissy union, Cissy is telling her cellie -- a middle-aged Spanish-speaking lady -- that she went a little crazy in a retail outlet. The cellie responds in a peal of Spanish that my closed captioning helpfully translates as "(speaks Spanish)." Thanks, closed captioning; that's very helpful. All I can make out is "son" and "assassination," so if there's a particularly salient plot point that just got uttered in Spanish, I'm afraid I can't help y'all decode it. A deputy arrives to release Cissy from her cell.
"He must read some old fucking magazines," Butchie says to Mitch about John, still laboring under the assumption that John has come to him for surfing lessons. Butchie observes that John told him that Mitch should get back in the game; funny thing, Mitch realizes, John said the exact same thing to him that morning. "He's harmless," Butchie concludes. "And fucking rich." Nevertheless, Mitch would like a word with Butchie in private. They go into another room where Mitch tells his son that he just found out he's pretty sick, hence his short fuse. Butchie blames his own bad temper on being "dope sick," since he hasn't had the means or opportunity to shoot up in a good, long while. If I didn't know any better, I'd say these two are apologizing to one another. Anyhow, Mitch explains his symptoms -- primarily the whole levitation thing -- which is when he starts floating again. "You're up," Butchie says, not without a hint of measured panic. "It feels like I am," Mitch says calmly. Bill is watching all this take place in silhouette against the shade, and his appalled facial reaction may be the funniest moment of this particular episode. "Well if that's a tumor, where do I sign up?" Butchie wonders. Meanwhile, Bill -- doubtlessly angered that someone would break the law of physics on his watch -- decides to take his aggression out on John. "I got my eye on you," Bill snaps at John. "I got my eye on you," John repeats. "No, I got my eye on you," Bill counters. And so on -- was there a word count Milch felt he had to reach for this episode?