Back in Freddy's room, Bill is still thinking his way through things, while Freddy thumbs through a magazine. Palaka slips into the room under the pretense of using the restroom, but really, he just wants to listen into the high-level pow-wow through the bathroom door. "Why should either of us pay any attention to what you think?" Bill asks. "Fine," Freddy huffs, with great irritation -- if that's what Bill thinks, he can show himself out. Palaka decides to interject himself, flushing the toilet so as not to blow his cover story -- it is a transparent charade that Palaka soon drops when Bill begins heading for the door. "Boss, as far as your vision, I just ran into a harelip," Palaka says. "Apparently, he has partial confirmation." A harelip with partial confirmation? Countries have gone to war because of less-telltale portents. Bill and Freddy decided that maybe they should pop over to Butchie's room to see what's going on.
They don't get very far. John is standing right there in the parking lot, almost as if he's waiting for them. "Where the fuck did he come from?" demands Bill in a mixture of surprise, alarm, and irritation I'm calling sularmitation (Trademark, Mr. Sobell 2007!). "Cincinnati?" Ramon answers softly." Ah, comedy. John turns and knocks on the door to Butchie's room.
Wouldn't you know it -- the folks inside aren't particularly delighted to see him. Butchie hustles over to the door, grabs John by the arm, and leads him away before Cissy can get the pot of boiling tar off the stovetop. "What the fuck, John?" Butchie whispers in sotto voce. "You got everybody shitting bricks. You're sneaking onto people's computers now?" "The internet is big," John observes. "Fuck the internet, buddy," Butchie replies -- hey, the internet lets some of us live in the manner to which we've become accustomed there, Yost -- before asking "What's this shit about Shaun?" "Shaun will soon be gone," John predictably answers. Yeah -- probably not a good thing to be repeating right about now. Butchie advises John to cool it with the disappearance prophecies; after considering that advice, John replies "We don't remember our Father's words." Whose father? John's father? Mitch? Someone else? Before we can dive into these increasingly tiresome questions, Bill begins bellowing, demanding to know what's going on. Cissy ushers him over to Dwayne, telling him to look at the video. "I don't use those," Bill says dismissively. Not even to download porn? Dwayne offers to operate the computer on behalf of Bill. "Outdoors?" Bill scoffs. Oh, Bill -- you sound just like my father, who, when I mention that you can surf the internet via high-speed wireless access, still looks at me like I've just told him that I can make the sun disappear from the sky. As Dwayne tries to introduce Bill to 2002, Butchie asks John the pertinent question: "Would you hurt Shaun? You'd never hurt Shaunie, would you John?" John's face registers a little more confusion than you'd care to see: "Hurting Shaun doesn't ring a bell," John says. So what's with all that Shaun-will-soon-be-gone jazz, Butchie wants to know. "We don't remember our Father's words," John repeats. By this point, Bill has seen the video, and he strides over to where John is standing -- the two of you are going to have yourselves a little chat, mister! "Try to tell them him what you mean," Butchie says to John. "I'll try, Butchie," John replies. They exchange "hang loose" hand gestures as Bill drags John off to a round of questioning that will doubtlessly make Gitmo look like some sort of Fox Network quiz show. While that's happening, Dickstein has taken note of Ramon's work on the shuffleboard court -- he apparently numbered the pyramid incorrectly, giving 10 points for the bottom of the triangle instead of the more traditional "10 off." "You don't reward failure, Ramon," Dickstein protests. Then what hope do any of us have? That goes double for you, Milch.