Mercutio's wandering through the jungle, yelling, "Walt! Walt!" And Charlie's wandering through the jungle, yelling, "Claire's luggage! Claire's luggage!" Charlie seems to be just as concerned about finding Claire's bags as Mercutio is about finding Walt. But neither has seen the object of the other's quest. And Jack happens to be lugging wood, as he is wont to do. He hasn't seen Walt either. So the kid's officially missing, even though Mercutio told Walt not to wander off. So giant monsters, polar bears...and now children are disobeying their parents? Is there no end to the madness on this island? Mercutio asks Jack if he listened to his father when he was ten, and Jack wryly notes that he probably listened a little too much. Save it, Jack. No one cares. Hurley strolls by to see if they want to get in on some golf, since they're having a tournament for the last of the deodorant sticks. This is an item that I think they'd want to dole out to those who need it the most, but what do I know? Mercutio walks off, yelling for Walt. "Seems to hate it, doesn't he? Being a dad?" says Hurley. Jack says it's just a lot of hard work. Hurley watches Mercutio another moment. "Nah, he hates it," is his assessment.
Mercutio keeps walking, and yelling. And we flash back to a younger Mercutio (younger in this case signified by him wearing a hat, not unlike Christophuh Moltisanti wearing a baseball cap in Sopranos flashbacks) wandering through a department store with his pregnant girlfriend. An upscale store, apparently, judging from the crib Mercutio's got his eye on, which costs three months' rent. And Mercutio's babymama laughs and says they can't afford it, and Mercutio laughs and talks about how it'll be just the best for their baby. And they laugh and laugh and dream and shop and sigh and coo. Mercutio's going to get some construction work, but don't worry, baby! He's not giving up his art, he's just going to take a break until she finishes law school and gets hired at "fancy-ass high-paying law firm" and supports him and "Walt" in a manner to which they'll soon become accustomed. "Walt, huh?" says -- do we know her name yet? Walt's Mercutio's father's name, and Baby-Mama tries it out: "Walter Lloyd." O-ho, says Mercutio, so that's why you won't marry me! You want him to have your last name! He's laughing, by the way. And so's she. "Hey, you want me to agree to Walter or what?" she says. I take notes, as I expect the future Mrs. Daniel to put up a fight when (hopefully a few years yet down the road) we have to name a little bundle of joy; we haven't broached the subject, but I'm guessing she won't go for naming our first child Wayne Gretzky.