Episode Report Card
Demian: B- | 1 USERS: B
The Hardy Boys Pull a Rabbit Out of Their Hat

Sometime later, the two magically meet up at the highest of high-end Sioux City hotels just as the local coroner's office wheels Douchebag Supreme's now most thoroughly cooled corpse from the lobby. Dean somehow managed to rifle the corpse's pockets and turned up yet another tarot card -- The Hanged Man, natch -- so they're even more convinced Jay's responsible for everything that's been going on, with the tarot cards functioning as "black magic targets" drawn on the victims so the death transference spell knows whom to hit. One problem: Sly Jay eluded Sam's no-doubt expert tail, so now the boys have to...

...corner Jay in his shabby hotel room, which they accomplish with a minimum of fuss, but a maximum of Tough Guy Jazz Hands. Heh. Long story short, they kick down the door and, at gunpoint, confront Jay with the presumed details of his dastardly plan, but Jay apparently hasn't the slightest idea what they're talking about, so Our Intrepid Dimwits tie the experienced escape artist to a chair while they try to figure out what's really going on. Needless to say, Jay slips out of their simple boy-scout knots the instant their backs are turned and hides in the closet, which Our Intrepid Dimwits are too stupid to search, and by the time Sam and Dean have barreled out of the room and down into the lobby to find the old guy, Jay's called the cops on their idiotic -- albeit tantalizing -- asses. D'OH! And as they stare down the police's gun barrels, Our Dear Morons hesitantly raise their hands directly into the METAL TEETH CHOMP! "That'll ruin their manicures for certain!" Thanks for sharing, Raoul. "My pleasure!"

Back in the cabaret's dressing area -- which features a photo of Patti LaBelle, for some bizarre reason, like, I'm certain Lady Marmalade has never in her life stooped so low as to play Sioux City -- Charlie nonchalantly puts a high shine on his shoes while Jay and his ludicrous pompadour rant about Our Intrepid Heroes and their crazy ideas about black magic and tarot card targets and death transference spells. At some point, however, it all starts to make an uncomfortable amount of sense to Jay, so it's left to Charlie and that freakish bruise on his forehead to talk Jay down from the ledge of insanity. And it works, to a point, until Jay breaks down and admits he intended to commit suicide on The Table Of Death two nights ago, and has no idea how he managed to emerge from the evening alive. Charlie pep-talks that none of that matters, now -- what matters is that Jay did manage to escape the apparatus, and that Jay, for whatever reason, has regained his abilities as a performer, and so they must as a team take advantage of all that, and go on with the show tonight. Yeah, I'm guessing Charlie's the bad guy, now. "I should think that would have been readily apparent several scenes ago, you silly little man! After all, I myself realized it long before the most recent visit by that darling METAL TEETH CHOMP!, and I'm on my sixth flagon!" Oh, whatever, Raoul. It's the second week in a row the two leads have had so little to do with the evening's central mystery, and I guess I'm just not feeling it this time around. "There, there!" Raoul shrieks, trying to be comforting despite the fact that his volume levels are having exactly the opposite effect. "There's always next week!" I suppose you're right. Should I get this over with, then? "By all means! Hurry along!" Thanks, friend of friends. "Don't mention it!"

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