Back at the hotel room, Cass is giving the place a thorough going-over, pulling back bedsheets, turning up mattresses, opening up dressers, going through closets, opening up plastic bags...ah, there it is! A black cloth with a white circle-and-stick figure. That's the background we saw in that video of John on Cass's computer. We haven't seen the video itself, mind you. But not seeing what has everyone so freaked out and antsy is much more dramatically satisfying, I tell you what.
We're in a bar -- good, I think I could use a drink. "License got revoked," says Ramon as he shows off the place to a teddy bear-toting Cunningham. Well...drat. Near as I can tell, this watering hole appears to attached to the Snug Harbor, and it's next on the Great Renovation Plan of Aught-Seven. "I've had another vision, Ramon," Cunningham announces. You remember how Cunningham came into his vast fortune by having a vision about the winning lottery numbers -- Ramon certainly remembers, as he eagerly awaits the next string of winning numbers to pour out of Cunningham's skull. Sorry, Ramon -- not that kind of vision. Instead, Barry's vision was of rapt faces, taking in some sort of performance. "We used to do karaoke here," Ramon offers helpfully. Either Cunningham hates karaoke -- and after one two many versions of "Wind Beneath My Wings," who can blame him -- or he's having another vision-bringing seizure. It's apparently the latter. Ramon rushes to attend to him and lead him and the teddy bear over to a badly worn pool table: "Do you have any medicine in your man-purse? A spoon?" But there will be no need for medicines or spoons -- Cunningham seems to be moving on to the vision portion of his epileptic fit, which again triggers notions of ill-gotten lotto gains in Ramon's head. "Go Barry," he says softly, breaking into an enthusiastic dance. "Go Barry. Go Barry! Get your vision! Get your number!" Cunningham sees columns. Columns of numbers? No...theatrical columns. Ramon's interest in this exercise has begun to wane. "Here, from the ruins of a venue of tawdry assignation will arise a temple of art," Cunningham says. Ramon has lost all interest in this exercise -- he leaves a rapt-looking Barry to go attend to the far more riveting world of shuffleboard-court stenciling.
Shaun rides his skateboard down the streets of Imperial Beach, carrying his surfboard in one hand while juggling with the other. Okay, forget bringing the parrot back from the dead with the touch of his hand -- this is the true sign that he's some sort of Golden Child. Tina pulls up in her sports car; they exchange awkward greetings. "You want to give me a ride?" Shaun asks. Uh...sure, says Tina, just happy to be asked.