At Maryann's, Jason feeds Andy carb-load bars and wonders if Sam could turn into a chicken and lay his own egg. And after the whole fascinated-Jason train of thought, from Merlotte's to the station to Maryann's house, you might be tempted to think it's more of the same, but even before the last image in this episode proves it, it's already significant: Gods don't have bellybuttons. They lay the eggs that hatch into Them. They bring Themselves into existence through the belief that births Them. It's all Sophie-Anne was trying to explain, because people are no different. It's all anybody ever does.
That's what the myth of the Phoenix is about, and in this case you're talking about Somebody crossing from the realm of dreams and oracles and visions into the world we know. Maryann wants to bring something across, and that thing is Him, and He wants to come here, and that's why she exists in turn. Faith bends the laws of physics until they break, but this is the definition of faith: reality born from dreams, hard evidence born of fantasy. Guides gone. It's the Eschaton, the thing that Steve Newlin is in love with, and the thing Luke embraced with his dying breath: You lay your own egg.
Andy starts in about how Jason is totally perverse, and Jason finally gets sick of getting messed with. "Why ain't you never liked me, Andy? Is it because of how much pussy I get?" No, he says with his elaborate shrug; Basically, he means, yes. "Because I ain't taking any pussy away from you. There is more than enough pussy to go around." (Wait until they find out every pussy has a human being attached! They are going to freak out!) "It ain't about pussy. I just think you've had everything too easy." Jason explains that fallacy in detail, which is basically that nobody has it easy, and he's hot because he "works out like fuck" -- and watches porn "to learn stuff" -- and being all-state QB was great but shot his knees before he was thirty, his best friend was a serial killer who killed everybody he slept with plus his only living parent, his real parents died when he was a child, he's poor, and basically dumb. Andy weakly protests, but it's over. We're in speechville again, and loving it:
"You may hate me, Andy Bellefleur. You may think you're better than me, and maybe you are. But you and me are the ones who have received the calling to save this town. So obviously God wants us to bury the hatchet. It's all up to us, and we can't fuck it up. Because this town might be full of crazy rednecks and dumbasses, but they're still Americans, Andy." Andy notes that being an American used to mean something. "It still does." They clasp hands before leaving the truck and grabbing guns, and fall into a manly, American kind of love with each other.