Adventures In Babysitting

Episode Report Card
Demian: D | 8 USERS: A-
Dear Mister Hardy Boy, Play Us A Tune

And once the commercials are done with, we return to Lunatic Jackass Estates, where the mind-numbingly dull standoff continues apace. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" I really didn't need you to punctuate that statement with an appropriate snoring sound, Raoul, but thanks for backing me up just the same. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Excellent. And as I need something of significance to happen in this goddamned episode already, I'll be skipping past the scene wherein Dean and Frank prove their human bona fides to each other by bleeding out through various self-inflicted wounds to join them as they jaunt over to Whackjob Frank's super-secret, super-high-tech RV, which has been parked in an abandoned barn someplace remote. Once there, Dean learns that Frank up and quit his usual place of residence because Richard Roman's minions "burned off every IP" Frank had after Dean called to have Frank check on Dead Bobby's numbers. Incidentally, Whackjob Frank is convinced that Dean called him about Dead Bobby's numbers a mere four days ago when in fact four weeks have already flown by, and I mention this only because the apparent time slip is likely linked to Dean's disappearing beer from earlier, along with next week's already-advertised supervillain. Just so you know.

In any event, and after a lot of unnecessary and uninteresting growling at each other, Dean and Frank finally get to the point, which is this: Whackjob Frank ran Dead Bobby's numbers through a probability generator, or something, and realized they were actually coordinates, which everyone in the audience already knew a month ago. Unfortunately, Whackjob Frank's probability generator spat out "454893" instead of "454895," but that's okay, because even though 45"4' North by 89"3' West is more than sixteen full miles away from Dead Bobby's intended destination, it appears that Richard Roman Enterprises, Inc., has recently purchased a swath of Northern Wisconsin so vast that it encompasses both points on the map, so whatever. "What do we do?" Dean wonders. "Stay away," Frank snorts. "Or," he continues, "we go there and set up surveillance." Guess which option they end up choosing. Go on -- guess. I can wait. I mean, it's not like I've got anything better to do. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Except that, of course.

Meanwhile, down in Kansas, Dapper Sam chats with a gent from the Ford County coroner's office, the latter of whom whips out a fresh corpse for Our Intrepid Hero's perusal. The recently deceased "Matthew Havlena" was "found in a ditch off the Interstate" with puncture wounds in various arteries, through which he leaked at least five pints of blood prior to death, and should I bother pointing out that the nearest Interstate is actually 100 miles away in Trego County? "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Okay, forget I said anything. Armed with this new piece of information, Sam rings Dean on his cell for a mini processing summit, and after the two catch each other up on recent developments, we jump ahead to...

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