John From Cincinnati
His Visit: Day Three

Episode Report Card
Sobell: B- | Grade It Now!
Someone Got Mad -- AND They Got Stabby

We switch to the Yost House. Butchie lurches into the kitchen, wearing his skivvies and wrapped in the kind of crappy velour couch throw you see people selling in the same places that deal in pictures of Native Americans looking into a pond and seeing their buckskin-clad forebears weeping in the reflection or pewter pen holders molded to look like a Gentle Faerie Quene And Her Unicorne Steed. Cissy puts down her cup of hot water with lemon. Butchie asks, "Surfing -- Shaunie?" and Cissy wearily chuckles as she says, "Yeah, he had a slow day yesterday." And -- aieee! -- the velour throw has a unicorn on it! I wonder if Butchie bought it while stoned to the gills on smack. Anyway, mother and son share an awkward silence in the kitchen, and then Butchie says he's about to hop the back fence and go look for John. The reporters are camped out in the front yard.

Cut to Cass sitting in bed, looking up at the ceiling with an expression of complete self-loathing on her face as Mitch smugs, "Sometimes to save what you love, you have to be willing to lose it." We switch to the bare-chested Mitch continuing to justify his adultery: "It's like surfing. If you do it for the wrong reasons, it's just a dead game." I look forward to seeing how this line of thinking plays out with Cissy: "Baby, no -- if I had been sleeping with a woman half your age for the wrong reasons, it would have been a douche move. But here, I risked losing you because I love you." Anyway, Cass tries to head off more of this claptrap by reminding Mitch that his leg is filled with puncture wounds from his nocturnal fence-hopping. Mitch is confident that the herb poultice he'll whip up will fix his leg good as new. Then Mitch begins groping his way up Cass's torso, carrying on about how heat flows from chakra to chakra while managing not to notice that Cass is looking like she's just fled to her happy place. Suddenly, Cissy's perpetual bad temper makes a lot more sense. Sharing a bed with an oblivious jackass for decades could fray anyone's nerves.

Meanwhile, Kai has woken up alone and discovered that John is nowhere to be found. She quickly gets dressed.

John, meanwhile, is bopping down the road, still lost in his own private New Wave music video. A van pulls over. Alas, it is not the rest of his bandmates, come to remind him that man's innate fellowship will save the human race from nuclear annihilation. It's a bunch of sketchy-looking dudes.

Back to the hotel. Cass has turned on the hot water in the sink, hoping to sterilize her flesh and possibly melt the memories of the last twelve hours right out of her skull. Unfortunately, the objet d'horreur is outside yammering for her attention. Cass comes out to see Mitch levitating.

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John From Cincinnati




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