Hey, Room 24 -- we've been spending a lot of time in you lately. Bill sits John down on the bed and pulls up a chair. "Now let me just say that sending that message means you're not as stupid as you sometimes appear," Bill begins. That's it, Bill -- butter him up. "So we'll have no more of the parrot talk." Oh, if only it were that simple. Anyhow, by the time they leave this room, Good Cop explains to John, they're going to get to the bottom of what the deal was with that "Shaun will be gone soon" message -- understand? John nods that he does. Bill decides to break down John's message bit by bit, focusing on the word 'soon' -- "Some people are concerned. 'Soon,' when you made that tape, would now mean 'right now.' Is that true? Is Shaun gone now?" John looks very pained and very confused -- it's clear he wants to say something, but he doesn't quite have the words. "What does 'soon' mean?" Bill repeats, getting increasingly agitated. "Could it mean a thousand years?" John answers, though you can tell he sort of doesn't want to: "It could mean a thousand years," he repeats. "Whap!" goes Bill's hand against John's left ear -- now he really reminds me of my father. "Now, I don't want to get violent with you," Bill says, grabbing John by the scruff of his neck. "But I told you, no parrot talk." He lets John go and returns to his line of inquiry: "What does 'soon' mean? Could it mean ten minutes?" Do I have to tell you how John responds to that? Let's just say it causes Bill to yell some more, demanding to know what it means. John tries to form words, but can't; finally, he says, "There will be no more parrot talk." So does that mean you're just going to sit there in uncomfortable silence, then? Because I'm not sure you can speak in any other form.