Episode Report Card
Demian: D- | 7 USERS: B-
The Hardy Boys Make It A Manwitch Night
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!

Rattle, Rattle NONEXISTENT THEN! which, logically, means we've also got a NONEXISTENT NOW! this episode, because it's an utterly pointless standalone that has absolutely nothing to do with anything that came before on this show, and likely has absolutely nothing to do with anything that will follow this season. Trust me when I tell you this development does not amuse me. In any event, the camera fades up on a woman perusing the latest edition of the no-longer-extant Weekly World News, whose headline screams, "LEADING PSYCHICS AGREE: THE APOCALYPSE IS HERE!" She chuckles to herself as her presumed husband barges in through the front door of their tastefully appointed and pricey suburban manse to ricochet immediately up the stairs to the second floor with nary a word of greeting to his mate. This odd-seeming behavior is evidently par for the course 'round these parts, for it elicits nothing more than a sarcastic, "Nice to see you, too," from the lady on the couch, and she returns her attention to Ed Anger's latest well considered Op-Ed column while upstairs...

...her presumed husband caroms into the main bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him before he spins around to assault the sink. He's clutching at his left arm, by the way, so already things aren't looking so good for this yuppified douchenozzle whose name we'll presently learn is "Xavier." In a panic, he yanks his good hand away from his forearm long enough to twist on the cold water, and he's about to, I don't know, soak his damn head, or something, when he's frozen in place by the reflection staring back at him in the mirror. The shot lingers on his right hand as the skin there instantly ages about fifty years, and by the time the camera's crawled up to his face, intricately wrinkled bags have appeared beneath his twentysomething eyes. Xavier's late-onset bout of Hutchinson-Gilford syndrome continues apace, with his hair simply vanishing from the crown of his head and his irises filming over with milky cataracts right before our eyes until that heart attack we've all been waiting for finally strikes with such force that Xavier staggers backwards to slam against the glass front of the medicine cabinet -- shattering the thing in a manner most convenient for alerting his soon-to-be widow far below -- before dropping to the floor, where he quietly expires against the tiles.

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