Episode Report Card
Demian: B- | 3 USERS: A
The Hardy Boys Wanna Take a Ride on Your Disco Stick

...over in Nonexistent Easter, Pennsylvania, yet another Imperiled Cop lounges at a speed trap in his prowler, and as we've gone nearly four full minutes with absolutely no gore whatsoever, I'm getting a little bored. "Me, too!" agrees the freshly awakened Raoul, and are we feeling better? "Much, thanks! Now please do hurry along! I can't wait to see how this one dies!" As you wish, friend of friends. "Hooray!" I must first note, however, that we know Yet Another Imperiled Cop is a Very Bad Man Indeed, for he's spiking his Big Gulp with vodka. "And what," Raoul shriekily inquires, "is so wrong with that?!" He's spiking it with Popov. "DEATH! DEATH TO HE WHO WOULD BEFOUL HIS BIG GULP WITH DISCOUNT LIQUOR FROM A PLASTIC BOTTLE!" So, we agree on this gentleman's obvious lack of character? "DEATH!" Excellent.

So, Bad Cop spikes his Big Gulp with Popov, and we get a few through-the-trees shots of his car, because someone's lurking in the bushes, don't you know, and at first I thought it was Raphael, because of the THEN!, but then I was thinking to myself, "Self, what the hell would an Archangel be doing scampering through the underbrush like a..." "A-him!" Oh. Sorry, Raoul. Got a little carried away, there. "Never mind all of that, you foolish man! Kill him! Kill him!" Well, I would, but first we've got to listen to the suspicious cell phone conversation Bad Cop has with an as yet unknown colleague. "Fie!" Did you just say, "Fie!"? "FIE!" Okay! Okay. Jeez. ANY-way, Bad Vodka Cop tells whoever's on the other end of the line to calm down and shut up, already -- Dead Gerry's gone, and there's nothing they can do about it, so they need to keep their noses clean and carry on like usual. Got it? "KILL HIM!" Good.

No sooner has Bad Vodka Cop hung up his phone than whatever was lurking in the bushes sneaks up to the prowler's driver-side window and...well, does something that triggers a series of yellowish, pus-filled boils to erupt all over Bad Vodka Cop's neck and hands. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Oh, God, this is disgusting. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" The boils spread almost instantaneously across his face and his bald head, and there are, like, clusters of the damn things clinging to the sides of his mouth, and some of them are obviously leaking oily slime down his cheeks, and... "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Soon-To-Be-Dead Bad Vodka Cop attempts to radio for help, but by now the boils have raced down his throat, and as he chokes and gags and, like, swallows his blistered tongue, or something, The Creature From The Forest scampers back into the bushes, and the next thing we know...

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