The Slice Girls

Episode Report Card
Demian: D | 6 USERS: B+
The Hardy Boys Really Need To Wrap That Shit Up

This Week's Motel Room. Drunky El Deano intently surfs the Internets for perverted Japanicrap porn until some visitor comes a-tapping at his chamber door. Dean warily cocks his trusty pearl-handled automatic and peeks through the peephole, then opens the door to find a breathy and moist-eyed Teen Emma standing at his threshold. "You don't know me," she whispers urgently, "but I need your help -- I think I'm in trouble, and you're the only person I can trust!" "Why?" Dean quite rightfully wonders. "Because you're my father!" Teen Emma claims, and no, he's not, AT ALL, because see above re: gynogenesis, but whatever, because we've hit what should be this evening's final CHOMP!-less commercial break, and as I am now a mere nine minutes away from sweet, sweet freedom, I'm going to let it slide.

For all of two seconds, because when we return, Drunky El Deano does not immediately shoot Teen Emma in the face even though she is not his daughter and is, in fact, yet another ancient Purgatorial beastie sent straight from the flaming maw of Hell to slaughter him. Or something like that. In any event, Drunky El Deano instead invites Teen Emma in for a chat, and fuck this bullshit, and...

...look! It's Darling Sammy, learning yet another piece of information the still-conscious members of this awful show's rapidly-dwindling audience already figured out a half an hour ago! The good professor, examining the ancient sheet of Greek parchment under a magnifying glass, notes that according to this particular variation on the Amazonian mythology, "it's not the women who do the killing." "Instead," he reads, "a ritual of initiation requires that the child born of the mating process must kill her own father." WE KNOW.

This Week's Motel Room, and LESS TALKING, MORE SHOOTING. Drunky El Deano doesn't listen to me because Drunky El Deano never listens to me, so let's head back over to...

...This Week's Nameless University, where Darling Sammy powers through the darkened hallways until he runs smack into...Amazon Charlene! DUN! Amazon Charlene grabs Our Imperiled Hero by one of his exceptionally healthy arms, allows the skin around her eyes to flush blood-red for an instant, then flips Darling Sammy down a short flight of stairs, where he ends up nearly smacking his way through a set of swinging doors. And with Darling Sammy now lying apparently unconscious on the floor, Amazon Charlene lets a very large bronze knife drop into her hand from the sleeve of her jacket. Dun-dun-DUN! Unfortunately for Amazon Charlene, though, Darling Sammy's just faking his little swoon, there, and before she takes a single step towards him, he flips around to plug her full of holes with his magically-appearing automatic. Amazon Charlene instantly keels over, dead, with that very large bronze knife of hers clattering loudly against the tiles, but naturally, there's a problem: Darling Sammy's phone has been smashed to bits. D'OH!

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