Episode Report Card
Demian: C- | 2 USERS: B
The Hardy Boys Meet The Antichrist

Some lengthy period of time later, the television screen's filled with snow as the master and mistress of the manor return from their wild night out doing whatever the hell it is that yokels do for fun in the middle of an 1100-square-mile wasteland on the ass end of Nebraska. "Key parties?!" shrieks Raoul, trying to be helpful, and for once, I think you might be on to something there, friend of friends, though I'm not going to Google "Nebraska Panhandle Swingers Clubs" to confirm it. "Wise decision!" In any event, when the just-arriving lecherous rednecks spot The Imperiled Babysitter passed out on the living room sofa, the husband sends his bone-tired wife upstairs while he prepares to rouse "Amber" and drive her home. Hubby first whispers Imperiled Amber's name, then gently shakes her shoulder, but he receives no response, so he reaches down to, um, cop a feel, maybe? Beats the crap out of me, but like father, like son, I suppose. In any event, he reaches down and...shoves his fingers into a puddle of blood! "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks Raoul, this time rightly writhing about upon his overstuffed armchair with justified delight, for when the increasingly horrified hubby pushes Formerly Imperiled And Now Dead Amber onto her back, her rapidly cooling ass leaves half its brain behind on the tasteful leather upholstery because something's clawed open the right side of her skull! "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Screeching for his bone-tired wife, Horrified Hubby lets loose with an amusingly girly "FRAN-CEEEEEEEEN!" right before we hit the...

...SPLAT! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" shrieks Raoul, still as taken with the fifth season's exploding bloodbag of a title card as he was when first he saw it back in September. Have you anything to add at this customary juncture, my impressively fanged companion? "I do not!" Excellent. Then I may continue with the recap? "Please do!"

The LYING LIARS WHO LIE introduce themselves as FBI Agents Page and Plant to the befuddled Box Butte County coroner, who's surprised they hauled their cookies all the way across the state into the middle of nowhere to view Amber Greer's corpse after her went through all the trouble of e-mailing a revised autopsy report that morning to the Omaha field office. "We, um, had server issues," the dapper Ginormotron LIES, so the befuddled coroner leads them over to the cooler where he rolls out Amber Greer's corpsicle and... "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Oh, my. Those are some rather vivid head wounds, don't you think, Raoul? "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" The largest is a gaping hole straddling what had been the hairline above her right eye... "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" ...but there are at least three deep chevrons of grue... "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" ...trailing down the side of her head and neck past her ear, along with several more superficial wounds dagged... "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" ...through her skin at various points between the major gaps. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Enjoy it while you can, Raoul, because it's the last you'll be getting of the good stuff for quite some time this evening. "EEEEEEE--wait! What!? WHY?!" Hey, don't ask me. I just report, here. "Well, poop, I say! Poop!" Thank you for your considered opinion on the matter, friend of friends. "You're welcome!" May I continue? "Please do!" Fine.

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