The horn sounds, the junior competitors hit the waves, and the competition is underway. The surfers get 30 minutes and their three highest-scoring waves are what will determine who wins this thing. Got all that? Now, if you're expecting intricate descriptions of every surfer's move, I'm afraid you've come to the wrong recap. Really, I don't have the vocabulary to do the surfing justice -- you should really just go watch the surfing montage for yourself. It's about 29 minutes into the episode; I'll wait here while you soak it in. Done? Okay. Suffice it to say, Shaun does very well for himself -- visibly better than the other competitors out there. Even the irate father from earlier seems impressed. "Your kid sticks one like that, you come back here and piss in my ear," Linc says. And HBO would air that, too -- it'd fit right in as a lead-in for Real Sex. Anyway, from their vantage point, Cissy and Mitch agree that their grandson has got this thing in the bag.

About this time, Butchie and John are just getting back to the motel with their sack of whiskey and their cardboard cut-out dates. It promises to be an unhappy homecoming as the Man in Black is striding toward them with measured ferocity. Butchie spots the guy and instructs John to hang back while he tries to smooth things over -- he fails. The Man in Black knocks Butchie to the ground with a painful looking right cross. This is Freddy -- the man to whom Butchie was placing so many ill-tempered phone calls to last episode in re: the drug buy gone bad. Freddy apparently didn't take Butchie's threats to rat him out to the authorities as constructive criticism about his business practices. (Fans of spooky behavior will note that John began holding his jaw long before Freddy slugged Butchie.) Butchie tries to apologize from his horizontal position, but Freddy isn't having it: "That call was a fucking favor to me. It reminded me of what a fuck-up you turned into instead of who I watched surf Rocky Point." So Butchie's drug dealer is now admonishing him for the choices he's made in life -- I'd say that's just about hitting rock bottom, wouldn't you? At this point, Freddy notices that John is drinking all this in, and he doesn't care for it -- not one bit. "You want some of that?" Freddy shouts. And here is where John's habit of repeating exactly what people say does not serve him terribly well: "I want some," he says. Freddy is nothing if not generous -- he delivers a blow across John's face. "Freddy!" Butchie pleads. "He ain't all there!" "Now, he's there even less," Freddy says. Freddy's quite the wit.