John From Cincinnati
His Visit: Day Two

Episode Report Card
Mr. Sobell: C | Grade It Now!
Wait, So Now The Parrot's Jesus?

Butchie slams the phone angrily to the ground, smashing it into a million piece. Butchie -- that's motel property. They're just going to have to tack that on to your bill -- which you don't pay anyway. So no harm, no foul, I guess. Anyhow, Butchie grabs John by the hand and tells him they're taking a ride. Freddy asks what's the matter; Butchie shouts out that if Freddy wants to stop him, he'll have to kill him. "My kid got hurt. He broke his neck. I can't handle it straight," Butchie says. "I'm holding," Freddy says, and that gets Butchie's attention right quick. "Get in the car." Butchie proposes that Freddy go get his dope and bring it over; Freddy makes a counter-offer -- "Get in the car, or I'll shoot you, him, and the three guys in the fucking office." Sounds like a fair deal to me. "What do you want, Butchie?" John asks again. Apparently, not to get shot because he gets in the car with Freddy and brings John along for the ride.

Apparently, the rental agency at the airport equipped Freddy with a compact, because his massive frame is hunched over the wheel. "They make these fucking cars for midgets," he complains before wondering if Shaun is the same kid who a less messed-up Butchie used to bring out to watch him surf on Sunset Beach in Hawaii. Butchie confirms that Shaun is his only son. "Some fucked-up shit," Freddy observes sadly. Then he turns his attention to John, who's sitting in the back of the car. "That mope in the back seat keeps changing fucking shapes," Freddy says. Just wait til you try and carry on a conversation with him, my man -- shape-shifting is the least annoying thing he does. I guess I should point out that John is not shifting his shape, which means the Freddy is either seeing things, speaking metaphorically, or as nuts as all the other characters on this show appear to be. That last one is the betting favorite.

They're at the hospital now, and Freddy has one last bit of fatherly drug dealer advice: "I want you to go in there, Butchie, and I want you to act like a fucking man. This business between us, we'll deal with later." Butchie notes that the promised heroin never materialized, though he also allows that Freddy didn't kill him either. Freddy tells Butchie to get out of the car "and take this shape-changing mope with you. I ain't afraid of you, pal," he says to John, who replies -- everyone, together now -- "I ain't afraid of you." "I don't give a fuck what you are," Freddy fires back. "I took more acid than you ate Cheerios for fucking breakfast." Seems like a strange boast, but okay. Anyhow, Butchie takes his leave of Freddy, but not before instructing him to move his seat back so he won't "look like such a fucking monkey." Well, sure, but then we don't have the amusing visual of a hulking man hunched over a compact car steering wheel to take our mind off the kid with the broken neck.

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John From Cincinnati




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