Episode Report Card
Demian: A | 18 USERS: A+
Get Your Kicks On Route 666

The music abruptly cuts to some crap rap as the shot cuts just as abruptly to a red-lit plastic skull, before launching into a brief montage of Halloween-themed "fun" that is anything but, in what I'm assuming is some Berkeley breeder bar or other. Over at a freestanding table in the center of the action, Sam perches on a barstool next to a raft of half-empty pints and a number of dead shots as Hooker Pumps raises a just-arrived tequila in a toast: "So here's to Sam and his awesome LSAT victory!" "It's not that big of a deal," Sam modestly insists while clinking glasses with Hooker Pumps and the gentleman who obtained the round, a guy made up to look like Big Daddy in this past summer's Land Of The Dead. "He scored a 174," Hooker Pumps reveals, leading Zombie Man to choke out around a mouthful of liquor, "Is that good?" Hell if I know, Zombie Man, but Hooker Pumps here is under the impression that it's "scary good." Geddit? "Scary"? Okay, I'll shut up now. Zombie Man slaps Sam on the back, calling him "our number-one draft pick" and crowing that Sam can have his way with any law school in the country. Sam smiles and admits he's actually scheduled an interview for this coming Monday with Stanford's own, and that should all go well, he'll be on track to getting a free postgraduate ride from his undergraduate alma mater. Hooker Pumps makes enthusiastic supportive noises as Zombie Man asks Sam what it's like "to be the golden boy in [his] family." "Golden boy"? Padalecki? Yeah, he's cute, but Zombie Man clearly hasn't taken a gander at The Ackles yet. "They don't know," Sam shrugs with a shake of his head. This leads to a playful little exchange wherein the undead spirits of both The Brady Bunch and The Cosby Show are invoked, before Zombie Man dances back to the bar for another round of tequila over the fainthearted protests of his tablemates. Thus left alone with the apparent boyfriend, Hooker Pumps launches herself into a little "I'm so proud of you" pep-talk that would have been a hell of a lot funnier if the actress actually had played it as drunk as the character's supposed to be at this point. Sam gazes at her admiringly -- again, would have been funnier had he played up the booziness -- and murmurs, "What would I do without you?" "Crash and burn!" Hooker Pumps too-casually sighs before pulling Sam into a sloppy kiss, like, get a fucking room, you two.

Oh. I forgot. They actually have one, don't they? The unsightly heterosexual snorfling cross-fades to the darkened art-studio section of Sam and Hooker Pumps's bedroom -- I'm guessing the art is hers -- before the camera pans over and across the bed, upon which our lovebirds slumber. She's on top of the sheets in a cropped t-shirt and a pair of those for-the-ladies boxer-briefs, by the way, and we get a lingering shot of The Ass That I Have Not Actually Been Waiting For, Thank You Very Much as she rolls away from him onto her side. The camera continues up to Sam's face -- he's depressingly clad in a grey t-shirt -- as a few unearthly groans hit the soundtrack, accompanied by the soft tinkle of shattering glass. Sam's eyes snap open at the latter, and he creeps out into the blackened depths of his nighttime apartment, angling around corners and darting his eyes between a swaying door and an open window before catching sight of a figure moving through one of the outer rooms. Sam slinks down the hallway, and when the intruder creaks open the glass door to the living room, Sam pounces. Sam-fu ensues. I wish I could be more specific, but the scene's so goddamned dark, all I can see is a pair of tussling silhouettes. Well, that and my own face reflected in the TV screen, but you're not here to read about that, I presume. After the two chop-socky each other into an adjoining room, the intruder finally slams Sam onto his back on the floor and Jensen Ackles's far-too-pretty face emerges from the apartment's pervasive gloom into the low light provided by the streetlamps outside to smirk, "Easy, tiger." Um. Mrow?

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