As Dr. Smith sets up a makeshift treatment center in the motel room -- complete with IV bag hanging from the room's lamp -- Freddy frets about how, if Palaka was really sick, the doctor would take him to the hospital, right? Dr. Smith fixes Freddy with a withering gaze: "I'm trying to remember how I practiced before I met you." "Was it without a fractured skull?" Freddy asks menacingly. Before we can see how well Dr. Smith would practice with a fractured skull, Cunningham bursts into the room with two buckets of ice -- one clean, one with ice that got yellowed from the motel's rusty ice machine. It's like that old Phil Hartman SNL sketch, "The Anal-Retentive Chef." I miss Phil Hartman. Perhaps this scene can continue without me. Dr. Smith prepares to stick Palaka with the IV tube, which is when we learn that Freddy gets nervous around needles. A drug dealer who hates needles -- oh irony, you are a cool, refreshing drink of what the hell.
John's at the Naval Radio Receiving Facility; there's still no dialogue. If there were I imagine it would go like this:
John's Father: So how's it going, Son?
John: Good. Really good. That trick you taught me where I just repeat back what people have said to me...it's working like a charm.
John's Father: Good, good.
John: Actually, it's pretty annoying. I'm kind of surprised no one's taking a swing at me.
John's Father: Oh, they will, John. They will. So, you deliver my message?
John: Yup, yup, I did. I told them about the zeros and the ones and the lines and the circles. Oh, I said that fire was huge. And I was sure to mention 9-11-14.
John's Father: Well that's...wait. What?
John: 9-11-14. Fire huge, mud huge. The whole deal.
John's Father: But that's complete gibberish.
John's Father: It makes no sense.
John: If you...
John's Father: I mean, I'm all-knowing, and I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. My message was pretty clear when I gave it to you to deliver.
John: (quietly) I thought I would mystify it up a little. You know, to keep people guessing.
John's Father: Mystify...it...well, that's just great, Son.
John: I'm sorry.
John's Father: No, great. Top-notch work there. You really delivered.
John: I said I'm sorry.
John's Father: I knew I should have sent Jesus instead of you. He got the job done last time.
Jesus (entering): Somebody mention my name? I was out getting tacos.