At the motel, Butchie is still leaving angry messages with his drug connection, demanding satisfaction or, at the very least, store credit. Outside, Ramon and Dickstein have made short work of loading up the truck with pile upon pile of discarded crap. See how much work you can get done, fellas, when you're not filling the air with expository dialogue? Just then, Vietnam Joe pulls up -- he seems to share a familiarity with Ramon and Dickstein. "The Three Stooges," Vietnam Joe snorts, ignoring the fact that he's only staring at two of them. "I could eat a bowl of soup off the top of either of your heads." While I don't remember that particular Stooges installment -- "Moe enjoys a nice potato-leek soup and then beats Curly mercilessly with the ladle" -- it hardly seems a compliment. Vietnam Joe confirms that Butchie is, in fact, a deadbeat-in-residence at the motel, instructs Upbeat Morrissey on the proper door-knocking technique, and then sends him on his way. "Ramon wants to talk to you, Joe," Dickstein begins. Vietnam Joe does not share that desire -- he speeds off before Ramon can tell him that his days of stashing illegals at the motel have come to an end, what with the new owner.
Upbeat Morrissey puts his door-knocking lesson to good use, rapping on Butchie's door and asking, "What do you want, Butchie Yost?" In a case of mistaken identity not seen on American television since the latter days of Three's Company, Butchie assumes that Upbeat Morrissey is a duly appointed customer-service representative sent by his drug dealer. "I want to see some dope come out of your pockets, or my $2,300," Butchie shouts through the door. $2,300 it is, then -- man, those are some very handy pockets. Upbeat Morrissey flashes the wad of cash in front of the peephole. After furtively looking around to make sure there's not an accomplice waiting to whack him upside the head and counting the money to make sure it's all there, Butchie's all, "Hello, friend!" He also expresses remorse over the angry message he left for the drug dealer not a few moments earlier. "Let's go call the ice cream man, tell him I'm sorry," Butchie says. Oh, this is going to be almost exactly like that time Mr. Furley bursts in on Jack Tripper while he's on a date. Only with more horse.
In all this time, Cissy has only now stormed her way to the clubhouse, which is where Mitch apparently retreats, cursing all the while about his inner sanctum. It is hard not to sympathize with Mitch, whose only mistake here appears to be building his hideaway where Cissy could find it, rather than in a more obscure location, like maybe Mars. "Why would you think you've got brain cancer?" Cissy demands, once she's through cursing at Mitch. Yeah. Was it some sort of diagnosis from your physician? Did you look it up on WebMD? Nah -- it's that whole levitation thing. Mitch chalks up it up to a hallucination brought on by a brain tumor. Cissy posits that it could have been brought on by an ear infection. I'm pretty sure that levitating isn't actually a symptom of swimmer's ear. Are, like, trained medical professionals with reputable backgrounds the mortal enemies of surfers or something? Because this seems like a thing you'd see a doctor about. Anyhow, there's a lot more cursing and carrying on and arguing about Shaun competing in the surfing competition, and it's all very tiresome twenty-five minutes into this show's run. Let's just bottom-line it here and say that Cissy thinks Mitch is holding Shaun back because of a knee injury he suffered back when he was young and immortal, and that Mitch counters that his leg nearly got amputated, thank you very much. And then they have sex. Angry sex. Probably punctuated by a lot of cursing.