Speaking of things no one should be surprised by, Shaun's out back behind the shop smoking some wacky tobacky. It's a regular reefer this time and not a bong he fashioned out of a Diet Coke can, so he's getting a little more civilized if a little less MacGyver-like. Both Butchie and Dwayne take in this sight with varying degrees of concern. Butchie asks Shaunie what's going on; nothing, Shaunie replies without looking up. See? It's just like any regular father-and-teenage-son conversation (your level of drug use may vary). "Put the joint out," Butchie says. Shaun does, with a remarkable lack of "From you, Dad! I learned it from watching you!" Which is disappointing, frankly. Anyhow, Butchie introduces Dwayne as someone "who wants to talk to you about some informational superhighway shit." Shaun would prefer to take a raincheck. That sits very poorly with Butchie, who, after shooing Dwayne away, asks Shaun why he doesn't want to talk to Dwayne now. Because, Pops, Shaun doesn't much feel like it. Butchie can't understand why Shaun is behaving this way to someone who wants to help him. Like the folks from Stinkweed, Shaun counters -- they wanted to help, too, and "you wouldn't let me sign with him." "Fuck if I wouldn't," Butchie protests. "Who told you that?" A shrug, apparently, because that's what Shaun does.
"So are you saying I can sign with him?" Shaun asks skeptically, after Butchie says that he hasn't seen Linc for days. That gets Butchie's Irish up. "A little weed on your brain, you get a real smart-as tone of voice going," he tells his son. As if to illustrate Butchie's point, Shaun looks over at Dwayne and observes that he "looks like a tool." As perceptive as that statement may be, it isn't very nice, and Butchie responds by whapping the back of Shaun's head, though a look of regret immediately flashes across his face. "That's just great, Shaunie," Butchie mutters. "Hurt a person's feelings comes looking to help you." You talking about Dwayne there, Butchie, or yourself? Shaun asks why Butchie doesn't just leave him alone. "Great, fine," says Butchie, his irritation rising. "If I see Linc Stark, I'll tell him to come sign you." "Oh yeah, I forgot," Shaun snots. "You signed me over to Grandma and Gramps. Tell him to go talk to them." Ouch and double ouch, kid. I thought weed was supposed to make you people jolly. Butchie gets up to leave in a huff -- lot of that going around this episode -- before leaving with this parting shot: "Me being a fuck-up doesn't mean I shouldn't try to give you good advice." Shaun asks if his mom is staying in Imperial Beach; Butchie has no idea. "Maybe you could give her some good advice and ask her to stay," Shaun pouts. OK, so the thing we learned about this scene is that grass makes Shaun a pissy little bastard. Also, there's a crucifixion mural on the wall by the surf shop -- didn't notice that before.