Episode Report Card
Demian: B | 2 USERS: A-
The Hardy Boys Do The Ultra-Violent

Rrrrgh. So, where the hell was I? Oh, yeah: Seems one or both of tonight's victims were found with their respective body cavities "stuffed full of maggots," as Sam excitedly describes it, and... "WHY were we not witness to THAT?!" Raoul roars, feeling cheated, and -- dude! Do you want me to get to the good parts already, or what? "Oh, I do apologize most sincerely! Please carry on!" Thank you. "Don't mention it! Hee!" SO ANYWAY, when Dean realizes this all sounds terribly familiar, Sam grins that it should, as their worthless bastard of a so-called father wrote extensively about just such a case in his demonic day-planner. "Doc Benton," Darling Sammy narrates as he flips the day-planner in question over to El Deano for the latter's perusal, was a "real-life doctor who lived in New Hampshire." Both "brilliant and obsessed with alchemy -- especially how to live forever," the good doctor abandoned his practice in 1816 to vanish for 20 years, after which his former townsfolk started turning up either completely dead or simply missing an organ here and there, or possibly a hand or two. "'Cause whatever he was doing was actually working," Dean recalls correctly. "He just kept on ticking, and when parts would wear out, he'd replace them." One thing, though -- didn't Sucky John off the guy by ripping out his heart? Sam shrugs that The Frankendoc must've just plugged in a replacement after the coast was clear. So, wait a minute -- you're telling me their worthless bastard of a so-called father encountered and subdued a supposedly immortal monster and did not proceed to cremate it? GOD, John sucks. Like, even more than I already thought he did. In ANY event, Sam notes The Frankendoc prefers to situate his various lairs in heavily wooded areas with easy access to fresh, free-flowing water, the better to dispose of "the bile and intestines and fecal matter" from his victims. Dean -- who'd been perfectly fine during the whole maggot discussion -- blanches at this last bit and nearly sets aside his delicious-looking cheeseburger before thinking better of the entire situation and noisily continuing to chow down. Atta boy.

Elsewhere, a strapping and vaguely Sam-like young gentleman jogs along the waterfront until he reaches the end of the path, where he parks himself upon some hideous piece of public art to check his heart rate while The Frankendoc -- presumably -- spies on him from a nearby copse of trees. When The Samalike bends to retie his sneaker, Frankendoc pounces, pinching a chloroformed cloth over The Samalike's nose and mouth to drag the remarkably healthy young gentleman into a blackness, from which eventually emerges...

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