Episode Report Card
Demian: B | 6 USERS: A+
Oh, Hardy Boys, Do You Know What That's Worth?
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!

Rattle, Rattle THEN! As I'm sure you'll all recall, over the past several seasons Our Intrepid Heroes have been mauled by Hellhounds, stabbed in the back, shot in the chest, hit by cars, crushed by falling farmhouses, zapped by lightning, electrocuted by faulty wiring, and disemboweled by rogue angels, only to return, somehow, from the land of the dead each and every time. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, positively enchanted by the amount of blood this episode's managed to spill in a mere fifteen seconds -- so enchanted, in fact, that I haven't the heart to tell him he won't be seeing much more of the good stuff for the remainder of the hour. "I beg your pardon?!" Raoul shrieks again, and nothing! Nothing, my scaly friend -- just reminding everyone that Dashing El Deano's super-special magical amulet is actually a Lo-Jack Of The Lord, and that My Sweet Baboo "borrowed" it at the beginning of the season to search for God. "I remember that!" And I can assure you, dear Raoul, that the possibility of you forgetting such an important detail never entered my mind, but I'm afraid we must be very, very quiet at this terribly important juncture, for I sense the impending arrival of the...

...Rattle, Rattle NOW! Which actually spends an uncharacteristically brief amount time advancing towards the front of the screen before disappearing, replaced by a slow, sweeping pan across a carefully arranged still life of semi-crushed beer cans and empty liquor bottles until the camera lands upon Dashing El Deano's gently slumbering head. While stirring in his sleep, Dean slips a hand beneath his pillow, and immediately snaps awake when he finds his trusty pearl-handled automatic missing. DUN! "Looking for this?" a ski-masked gent teases, wiggling the trusty pearl-handled automatic in question around in the air with one hand while training a over/under on Dean's pretty, pretty face with the other. Dean, massively hungover though he might be, manages nevertheless to smartass a chipper-sounding, "Mornin'!" while rolling around upon this week's motel room's bed to shoot glum-looking Sammy A Look Fraught With Slightly Boozy Significance. The mopey and strangely puffy-eyed Ginormotron's perched atop the room's other twin with a ski-masked gent of his own pointing a pump-action at that remarkably broad chest of his, and he fidgets while Dean's Ski Mask barks, "Shut up! Hands where I can see 'em." Dean woozily complies until he recognizes his Ski Mask's voice. "Roy?" Dean guesses. Dean's Ski Mask's poker face is for complete crap, because he immediately gets this total "D'OH! Busted!" look in his eyes, so Dean smirks triumphantly and turns to Sam's Ski Mask to add, "Which makes you Walt -- hiya, Walt!" Heh. Les Frères Disney roll their eyes at each other for a moment before Walt shrugs, "Doesn't matter," and the two remove their masks. Roy looks like he's missing a couple of chromosomes, just so you know. "You think you can flick the switch on The Apocalypse and just walk away, Sam?" Walt begins, and oh, crap. Are we really doing this again? Really? "Apparently we are!" shrieks Raoul, and honey, the question was rhetorical. "Ooops! Sincere apologies, I'm sure!" Not a problem. Now, where was I?

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