See, it turns out that J.T. is a cow, and the farmer expects Langly to stick his hand all the way up the cow's butt. Langly weeps. Jimmy: Is this one of them new genetic cow breeds? She's got that one gigantic udder. Farmer: J.T. is a bull. Whee, an ass joke and a penis joke in one scene! So highbrow. "Oh, sweet Lord, take me now," Langly moans. Sing it, brother. Apparently, the boys' lack of knowledge about farm animals tips the farmer off that maybe they're not livestock experts, and he goes and gets his shotgun. He wonders who the hell they are, because they sure don't know nothing about no cows. "Are you from a collection agency?" he barks. Enter Shelly. "Jason? Jason Guthrie?" she sighs. "Shelly Meiser?" he asks, lowering the gun.

Outside, Jimmy pours what looks like acid but must be hydrogen peroxide all over Langly's arm. "Again, hit me," he says, wincing.

Turns out that J.T. the bull was named after J.T. the person; Jason bought him the week the human J.T. died. He examines the invoice, and says that it looks like one from the Air Force Base where his father worked, right down the road. J.T. the man, he explains, worked for missile command. Langly muses that because most covert paperwork never made it onto computers, there's no wonder he couldn't track down the invoice with his mad hacker skillz. The Gunmen decide to infiltrate the base. "None of us exactly look like G.I. Joe," Langly whines. Byers smiles. "I wouldn't say none of us do," he says mildly.

Biznot Air Force Base. Jimmy Bond, all decked out like an officer -- and looking rather sharp in his Air Force blues -- walks stiffly down the hall. He salutes a janitor, who doesn't bat an eye. He breaks into a room at the end of the hall and finds the original invoice with surprising ease. But see, there's always a problem -- mid-discovery, he's discovered by an actual officer. Or is he? Anyway, Jimmy and Real Officer Guy fight, tearing the invoice in two. Jimmy makes fairly quick work of the Real Officer Guy, and discovers in short order that Real Officer Guy is neither a Real Officer nor a Guy. It's Yves, all dressed up and wearing a retainer that makes her talk all deep and manly. Fancy. She makes brief, slurpy, and unintelligible small talk, takes her half of the document and slinks off into the night. Whatever, Yves. If that is, in fact, your real name. Oh, wait....