Supernatural

Episode Report Card
Demian: D | 5 USERS: A
YOU GRADE IT
The Hardy Boys Waste An Hour Of Our Lives

...back in the Impala, where Dean dabs at his scalp wounds with a handkerchief in the front seat while Crowley busies himself carving a lurid entrapment sigil directly into Butthead's chest. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" This will, of course, prevent Buttload from escaping his host's body during the torture to come. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" "Now, up here," Crowley instructs, turning his attention to the road ahead, "we don't want I-50. Take 93 North." Wow. I guess we are still in Nevada. Go figure. Though why Pestilence And Friends would set up their Croatoan plant out in the middle of nowhere is beyond me. Anyway, Dean bristles at the sudden change in route, and wants to know why he's supposed to drive away from the rattrap. "We can't take this guy back to your brother," Crowley explains. 'They got history, all right?" Dean slams on the brakes to shout, "What history?"

Why, they dull kind, of course! For yes, gentle reader, we have arrived at the portion of this evening's festivities in which everyone involved tries and fails to interest us in events that transpired at Stanford University seven years ago. "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAWN!" Yes, Raoul. Yes, exactly. You see, Buttwit, here, is actually Sam's old friend, "Brady," from Pre-Law or the frat house or their frigging work-study job on the cafeteria lunch line or whatever, only "Brady hasn't been Brady in years" -- not since the middle of their sophomore year, in fact -- and it was Brady's demonically enhanced persona who initially introduced Sam to the late, lamented Jessica Moore. "Who?!" Yes, Raoul. Yes, again. No, I have no idea why they're throwing this guy in our faces now, in the second-to-last episode before the fifth-season finale, and no, I don't particularly care at this point, either. What I do know is that he won't make it to the end of the evening alive, so I'll be spending as little time as possible on his scenes, despite the fact that Eric Johnson really is being as entertaining as he possibly can be, here, given the dreadful material he's got to work with.

By the way, now that I've imagined Darling Sammy with a work-study job on the cafeteria lunch line, I find myself trying to visualize the hairnet vast enough to contain his mighty coif. "It's impossible!" shrieks Raoul, and I have a feeling Raoul is right. "I usually am! [Slurp!]"

Now, where the hell was I? Oh, yeah: So, when Sam learns his old friend Brady has actually been demonically enhanced for years, Sam flies into a yet another spitting rage, getting all beetle-browed and screamy and such once more until Dean's forced to wrestle his very loud brother into a separate rattrap room while Crowley has a sit-down with whatever is currently occupying Brady's dead body. Unfortunately, Whatever Is Currently Occupying Brady's Dead Body is one of those Satanic true believers like Azazel and Lilith and Ruby and that crazy chick down in the basement from that especially awful episode in Season Three who are convinced that Lucifer has only their best interests at heart, refusing to understand that Lucifer intends to wipe all traces of humanity -- including the demons -- from the face of the Earth. So, you know, the sit-down doesn't go exactly the way Crowley would have liked. "He buy your Girl Scout cookies?" Dean asks once Crowley's skulked back into the rattrap's sitting room. "Not yet," Crowley admits before glancing around and wondering, "Where's your moose?" Hee. Sam's off soaking his freakish Cro-Magnon head somewhere, so Crowley affably tells Dean to "get bent," and makes for the door. "You going somewhere?" Dean wonders, dimly. "Well, he won't budge," Crowley explains, hiking a thumb in Brady's general direction, "so now I go stick my neck out." "What're ya gonna do?" Dean eyebrows. "Exactly the kind of desperate swashbuckle I've been trying to avoid," Crowley allows. "Now I go kick open a hive of demons." "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Off screen, Raoul. "Rats!"

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Supernatural

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