Bedtime Stories
Updated 2008-04-18 19:24:44
Rattle, Rattle THEN! And because the Rattle, Rattle THEN! has become a LYING LIAR WHO LIES with regard to how many magical bullets were available for Our Intrepid Heroes' use towards the end of the first season, you shall all ignore it and follow this instead: Samuel Fucking Colt fashioned that fucking gun of his way back in 1835, only to have it rendered entirely useless once Our Intrepid Heroes got their hot little hands on it and blasted the last five magical bullets into various monsters and demons, including their worthless bastard of a so-called father . Unfortunately, Bad-Ass Bobby -- with an assist from Ruby The Sparkly Haired Demon -- was able to get it working again last week , so we'll have to keep dealing with the stupid thing for the rest of the season. And just in case you suffered a stroke in the last couple of days and thus forgot all about this, the THEN! would also like to remind you of Dashing El Deano's Crossroads Demonette issue. Oh, and Sam's probably soap . All caught up? Wonderful. Now shut the fuck up for the...
...Silence, Silence NOW! A full moon floats through the NOW! just seconds before the latter fades away completely so the camera might continue its pan to land upon the great, big, curlicued "Once Upon A Time" lead on a billboard advertising a new housing development. A musical flourish that sounds a little too much like the wistfully fanciful crap they used to bust out on Charmed all the time zings across the soundtrack as the camera continues down the giant ad to reveal the concluding bit of primary copy, which reads, "All Homes Were Built This Well." Tucked away into the lower left corner of the sign is the barely visible logo for the construction company responsible, "Baycon Brothers," and you can see where they're going with this, right? Right? Good. So, let's brush past the just-appearing location card of " Maple Springs, New York " to greet The Three Little Pigs themselves as they enter the far background of the shot to bicker about -- yep -- building supplies until the more conscientious of the three -- who's got quite a bit of hair on his chinny-chin-chin, by the way -- detects forest noises emanating from somewhere deep within the as-yet-unfinished development. He attempts to bring this to the attention of his addle-brained brothers, but they basically ignore him in favor of sniping at each other over the obviously inferior lumber one procured for the building site's next phase until the forest noises suddenly reappear, much closer to the three of them this time. The other two blow it all off once again and retire to a jury-rigged worktable to review some blueprints while Practical Pig warily wanders off to investigate, slowly inching his way towards an idle excavator before steeling his nerve and bouncing around the side of the thing to find...absolutely nothing untoward at all! Practical Pig quite literally snorts at his own stupidity, and is about to rejoin the others when Fifer Pig unexpectedly gets dragged behind some flimsy PVC piping by an unseen and angrily snarling beast. Or is it?
Fifer Pig screams and screams and screams until -- wait for it -- SPLAT! " GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE! " shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, who writhes about with delight upon his overstuffed armchair as a tremendous gout of arterial spray thwacks against the side of the Baycon Brothers' company pick-up. Practical Pig immediately freaks and hustles his tubby frame past the rickety wooden worktable to dive behind a stacked pile of cinderblocks. Fiddler Pig, meanwhile, tarries a bit too long by the tacked-together lumber, and for his trouble -- wait for it -- SPLAT! " GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE! " Raoul shrieks, flailing himself into a tizzy of joy over the fact that we've gotten so much of it so early in the episode. And as Fiddler Pig's disemboweled guts fan out across the blueprints, Practical Pig cowers and shudders in his hiding place until the snarling racket of fraternal evisceration dies down on the soundtrack. He crawls on all fours to the edge of the cinderblock pile and barely has time to take in the rapidly cooling corpse of his younger brother before the still-unseen Big Bad Wolf leaps upon him from behind, and Practical Pig goes " Wee-wee-wee! " all the way into the METAL TEETH CHOMP!
RAAAWWWR! "Eeeeeeeeeeeee!" shrieks Raoul, now admittedly more out of habit than anything else. "I can't help it! I'm positively Pavlovian at this point! Go ahead! Try it again!" Uh. " Do it! " Okay! RAAAWWWR! "Eeeeeeeeeeeee! Again! " RAAAWWWR! "Eeeeeeeeeeeee! See?! One more time! " RAAAWWWR! "Eeeeeeeeeeeee!" I think Raoul's lost his mind.
Once the title card vanishes, the camera pushes through the blackness that follows to focus in on a small length of photogenically damp blacktop, and pans along until it lands upon an immensely obese bullfrog parked in the middle of the road. The Frog Prince belches ominously a couple of times until chased from his spot by the Impala, just now arriving in Maple Springs from points unknown. Inside the car, Our Intrepid Heroes are fighting with each other again, once more over Dashing El Deano's ongoing Crossroads Demonette issue. Darling Sammy, you see, wants to summon the saucy demonette in question, pull The Fucking Colt That Can Kill Anything Except When It Can't on her, and force her to absolve Dean of his side of the bargain. "We don't know if that'll work!" Dean snaps. Loudly. "Then we'll just shoot her!" Sam hollers back. "If she dies, the deal goes away!" "We don't know if that'll work, either!" Dean screams, and as all of this shouting can stop right now , let's skip ahead to the bit where they discuss the relevant details of the monster at hand, shall we? "The psychotic killer," as Sam reads from an article in the local paper covering the Baycon Brothers' untimely deaths, "rips victims apart with brutelike ferocity." "Quite right!" Raoul shrieks in agreement. "There simply isn't any other way to get the job done properly!" "Though of course," he notes, pointedly eyeing his perfectly honed claws, "it can have positively beastly effects upon one's manicure!" If you're speaking from experience, my scaly friend, I do not want to know about it. In any event, because "the lunar cycle's right," Our Dear Boys believe they've got another motherfucking werewolf on their hands, and the next thing we know...
...the LYING LIARS WHO LIE are presenting themselves as Detectives Plant and Page of the county sheriff's department to the sole surviving Baycon brother, "Kyle," the especially hirsute and conscientious one who dove behind the cinderblock at the top of the hour. "I've been expecting you," Practical Kyle allows from his hospital bed, clearly throwing the boys for a loop. "You are the sketch artists, right?" Kyle prompts, noting their befuddlement. "Absolutely!" Dean immediately covers. "Yeah, that is exactly who my partner is," he continues, pointing at Sam, who flusters and stammers and eventually spins silently away from the lightly scratched-up Kyle to grant Dean a bitchface of epic proportions. Hee. Dean simply wiggles his eyebrows around for a bit before delicately inquiring as to how Kyle managed to escape the beast who flensed his equally rotund brothers. Kyle, of course, hasn't a clue. "I was hiding," he explains with some difficulty, given the horror of the events he's recalling, "and he found me, and was coming right for me and he just...stopped." And we all know why The Big Bad Wolf couldn't slaughter the one little piggy who hid amongst the cinderblocks, yes? Good. Let's keep this moving, then. To maintain their current façade, Darling Sammy whips out a handy pad of paper from his jacket pocket, and starts scribbling away on the thing with a pen as Kyle describes his attacker. Much to the boys' dismay, the gentleman Kyle details is clearly not a motherfucking werewolf, but he did have a Wile E. Coyote tattoo on one of his biceps, so that sort of counts, right? By the way, there's also an entirely unnecessary and anvilicious bit wherein Kyle, tiring of Our Intrepid Heroes' increasingly obnoxious questioning methods, finally breaks down and nearly weeps, "This guy -- he killed my brothers! " He takes a moment to collect himself before staring Darling Sammy dead in the eye and demanding, "How would you feel?" Sam, of course, "can't imagine anything worse," the admission of which elicits a Look Fraught With Significance from Dean, and as I'm now praying for a psychotic killer to rip all three of these assholes apart with brutelike ferocity, let's jump ahead a bit to welcome the arrival of one Doctor Garrison, who's just popped by to check up on the sole remaining slab of Baycon. After the good doctor receives assurances that Kyle is fine, all things considered, Dean beckons Garrison out into the hall for a private chat, and we're forced to endure an aggravating scenelet between Kyle and Sam in which Darling Sammy's forced to surrender the suspect sketch he'd supposedly been working on, and as it's barely more than a grimacing stick figure that should get both of these bozos busted immediately yet doesn't, let's pretend we didn't just sit through all that and join...
...The Frog Prince out on the sunlit sidewalk, where he belches once more before the camera leaps above his head to capture Our Intrepid Heroes as they lankily and bow-leggedly lope, as appropriate, from the hospital while discussing the latest details of the case at hand. Long story short, they know they're not dealing with a motherfucking werewolf, but as neither can imagine a demon halting an attack in the manner Kyle described, they're now at a loss as to which supernatural entity committed the crime. Next!
More of that tinkily fanciful Charmed crap assaults the soundtrack as the camera cuts away to soar over a forest presumably nearby. We eventually dive down through the canopy of trees to find a pair of lost hikers stumbling through the underbrush, and we'll be calling them Hansel and Gretel until told otherwise, which will be never, so there you go. Hansel grouches about the current dearth of granola in their knapsacks while Gretel bitches him out for leading them off the trail. Almost immediately, though, they stagger into a clearing to find a cozy little wood-frame gingerbread cottage, and a grateful Gretel immediately lifts her eyes heavenwards in thanks. As the two wanderers head up the gravel drive to approach the front door, a silver-haired lady clad in a faded housedress and tottering along feebly on a cane emerges onto the porch to dodder amicably enough, "Are you two doing okay?" "EVIL!" shrieks Raoul. Well, duh , you lizardly idiot. We're doing Hansel And Gretel now, so of course she's evil. "My apologies, I'm sure!" Raoul offers. "But as this episode has been dragging so, I thought I'd goose things up a little bit!" Thanks, but we're about to get to a good part, so I'd zip it until then, if I were you. "Okay!" Oh, bless his little heart. Raoul's so agreeable when he knows he's about to get his gore. "Whee!"
So, the secretly wicked granny politely offers to point them in the right direction, but cautions, "I'm afraid it'll take a while to get back -- you're really deep into the woods." Hansel couldn't give a shit, because the starving lad's just noticed the cherry pie cooling on Granny's windowsill, and he pointedly and repeatedly glances over at the tasty pastry until Granny finally takes note and kindly asks if they'd like to come inside to rest for a bit. Gretel voices her reservations, but ravenous Hansel shuts her up with a sotto-voce, "She's a harmless old lady -- what could happen?" "You'll see!" Raoul shrieks, and Raoul! Wait for it! "Hee!" Gretel caves under all the peer pressure, or whatever, and soon the two are crossing the threshold under the smiling eye of the homicidal old lady in the faded housedress.
A short time later, Hansel's just getting done wolfing down what's probably his third piece of pie at the kitchen table. Gretel, who apparently only picked at her dessert, offers him an uneasy smile that's clearly screaming, "Okay, hog , can we get the hell away from this creepy old lady already?" but Hansel foolishly chooses to ignore her, instead focusing on Secretly Wicked Granny, who brightly asks, "You sure you don't want more?" Hansel at first smilingly answers in the negative, but then grimaces, almost as if he's about to boot. Gretel picks up on this instantly and latches upon the opportunity to leave, hastily offering Secretly Wicked Granny her apologies and thanks as she makes to rise from her seat. Hansel, who woozily got to his feet during all of that, suddenly doubles over, clutching at his stomach before crashing to the floor in front of the sofa. Gretel lunges towards his side but is almost immediately stricken herself. "What's going on?" she demands as she slowly descends to the floor. Gretel's vision doubles, then trebles as she pants, "Did you drug us?" Openly Evil Granny never once allows her pleasant smile to drop from her face as she carefully pushes herself up from the table and crosses to the sink to fetch a monster of a carving knife from the drainer. As Hansel and Gretel gasp in pain, Openly Evil Granny delicately tests the blade's sharpness with her finger, then just as delicately picks her way across the floor towards her increasingly frantic guests as Gretel moans, "Stop! Please , you have to stop!" Psycho Granny ignores the plea entirely, but does speak for the first time since everything went south as she leans down close to Hansel's face to coo, "Don't worry! Everything's fine! " "You just hold still, now, dear!" she practically sings as Hansel blinks dumbly up at her and Gretel grimaces in horror and pain and the strings saw away tensely on the soundtrack and... " GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE! " Psycho Granny swings the knife up into the air over her shoulder, and with one quick, slicing stroke, she's opened Hansel's carotid. A thick spray of blood paints Gretel's screaming face while Hansel makes grisly choking noises off-camera. And again, the smile never once drops from Stabby Granny's face as she repeatedly hoists the increasingly gore-bedecked blade above her head and jams it over and over and over again into Hansel's guts.
Just then, even as the sounds of the screaming and the stabbing continue on the soundtrack, the camera cuts over to the gingerbread cottage's front window, and any glee Raoul was finding in this scene snuffs out immediately as that camera lands upon a preternaturally delighted preadolescent girl in a white party dress with a red sash around her waist. " EVIL! " Raoul roars, cowering in terror in the depths of his overstuffed armchair. Gretel's piteous cries continue as we get a good look at the heinous moppet's face, and she's Snow White , right down to the red ribbon in her ebony hair. As Snow White smiles to herself over the gruesome scene now unfolding on our side of the windowpane, Gretel's unending howls echo into the METAL TEETH CHOMP!
Back at the hospital, the LYING LIARS WHO LIE cunningly avoid two actual officers of the law before continuing into Gretel's room to belabor her with questions. Gretel's looking a hell of a lot like a young Ellen Barkin, here, by the way. Just tossing that out for absolutely no good reason whatsoever. In any event, Our Intrepid Heroes must first get a pass from the good Doctor Garrison, who's attempting to placate the distraught woman. Once he's managed to calm her down a bit, Garrison strides up to Sam and Dean and demands, "What the hell's going on here?" "Exactly!" shrieks Raoul, and dude. Don't dredge up six-year-old Charmed jokes. That's my job. Anyway, Garrison continues, "My whole town's going insane!" Darling Sammy deploys The Super-Special Puppy-Dog Eyes Of Commiserative Determination and vows, "We'll let you know as soon as we do." The good doctor nods at this and allows them access to Gretel's bedside. Once there, they immediately start in with the interrogation, and we confirm that Gretel did not down as much of the poisoned pie as Hansel did. Because of this, she was eventually able to shove Stabby Granny away from the gutted corpse of her husband, and the little old lady ended up cracking her head on the stove. "She's dead, right?" Gretel sobs. "I killed her?" Dean silently nods his head around before pressing Gretel for more details, and look at that. While Gretel weeps her way through a description of Hansel's last moments on earth, Captain Empathy finally gets all suited up for the first time in what seems like forever, and eventually lays a few of his soothing tones upon the suffering woman to ask, "Can you remember anything else?" Gretel can indeed, for she spotted Snow White through the window shortly before the infernal moppet "vanished into thin air." DUN!
Later that afternoon, the Impala's arrived at Stabby Granny's gingerbread cottage, and the boys trample the entirely unsecured crime scene to wave their EMF reader around the curtains and such until the thing goes, "VVWOOORP!" They realize they must be dealing with a ghost, and Sam further realizes what the audience already knows: For whatever reason, the ghost is forcing people to reenact the grimmest of fairy tales in real life. Dean wearily understands this theory will involve more than a bit of research, and we quickly find him trudging dejectedly from a central municipal library that is not in Chautauqua County to reveal he "found the usual amount of childhood deaths for a town this size," but none of them involved foul little Satanic creatures who happen to resemble Snow White. Meanwhile, Sam's been conducting a little research himself, deploying his mad Googling skillz to dig up Lilian Bailey , "a British medium from the 1930s" "who'd go into these unconscious states where her thoughts and actions were completely controlled by spirits," which sounds an awful lot like Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost , and the less said about that, the better, I suppose. They natter at each other about the implications of all of this before Dean eventually concludes, "Fairy tale trances? That's bizarre, even for us." And in a Cleansing Burst Of Synchronicity, no sooner have those words left his mouth than Our Intrepid Heroes stumble across The Frog Prince, who offers his most riveting performance of the evening while belching at their feet. As Dean swears never to kiss a frog no matter how dire their situation might become, or whatever, Eagle-Eyed Action Sammy spots a pumpkin plonked down on a porch across the way along with the expected passel of mice practically dancing around the damn thing, for we've now entered the Cinderella portion of this evening's festivities. And when Sam draws Dean's attention to this fact, Dean calls his brother a faggot. Isn't Dean the most, to say the least? "The very least!" Raoul shrieks. "And those silly little women you call 'Deangirls' defended him anyway?!" But of course, my scaly friend. Anything less than a full-throated and rabid defense of the stumpy little bow-legged midget, no matter how odious he's become this season, would amount to being MEAN TO DEAN, and we can't be having that, now can we? "..." Well? "..." Come on, spit it out. "Those INFANTILE ASSHOLES! " Raoul, I am absolutely shocked and appalled with your language. Then again, don't you feel better? "Much!" Let's continue, then shall we? "By all means!"
We kiss The Frog Prince goodbye for the moment to follow Our Intrepid Hero and his gay-baiting midget of a brother as they break into that Victorian across the way and make with the Tough Guy Jazz Hands the instant a woman calls out, "Help! I'm in here!" from the back of the house. They barge into the kitchen to find a banged-up Canadian blonde handcuffed to the stove. "You have to help me!" our Hoser Cinderella heaves. "My stepmom -- she just freaked oot, screamed at me, beat me, and then chained me up, eh?" Deluxe Action Sammy With Miracle Lock-Picking Hands prepares to free her just as The Gay-Baiting Midget spots the infernal Snow White lurking at the end of the hall. The Gay-Baiting Midget leaves Our Intrepid Hero alone in the kitchen with Hoser Cinderella as he races off on his stumpy little bowlegs to investigate, eventually trailing Snow White into the Victorian's front parlor, where, after much dead-eyed staring and such, Snow White eventually blinks and buzzes and flickers out, leaving a Red Delicious on the carpet where she'd stood. The Gay-Baiting Midget stoops to retrieve the apple. " EAT IT! " shrieks Raoul. Now, now, my overly excitable lizardly companion. Whatever would Darling Sammy do if his gay-baiting midget of a brother bit into Snow White's apple and fell into a coma? "THRIVE." Tsk. And look at that -- while we've been chattering on amongst ourselves, Dean's puckered his Excessively Macho Ducky Lips Of Aggravatingly Casual Heterocentricity straight into the CHOMP!-less commercial break! "See what you did there?!" I do, now that you mention it. "Hee!"
Aftermath. And because the fucking midget is still being a homophobic fucking prick about the whole fairy-tale thing, we'll be skipping past the obnoxious conversation that follows in which they realize their Snow White's likely a creepy preadolescent girl lingering in a coma to jump ahead to the bit where they've arrived at the hospital to learn that no creepy preadolescent girls are currently lingering in comas in the entire Chautauqua County hospital system. In fact, the only comatose patients present at the moment happen to be "old guys," with the exception of "Callie," who just so happens to be the good Doctor Garrison's daughter. DUN!
Elsewhere, Doctor Garrison's donned his glasses as he opens a copy of The Brothers Grimm Complete Works & Tales to Little Red-Cap (better known, of course, as Little Red Riding Hood ) and begins at the point where The Big Bad Wolf's just arrived at Grandmother's house. "'"Just press the latch," called out the grandmother. "I'm too weak to get up." The wolf pressed the latch, and the door opened.'" And if you're wondering why they altered that to "press the latch," it's because we've cut over to Grandmother toting a couple of grocery bags to her SUV, where she presses the automatic door opener herself. There is a baguette protruding from one of Grandmother's grocery bags, by the way, but alas! There are no leafy greens, and for this, she must die. Yep, no sooner has Grandmother unlocked the SUV when The Big Bad Wolf appears, complete with that Wile E. Coyote tattoo on his left bicep. He pleasantly assists her with the heavier of her bags, then allows the smile on his face to die the instant he pivots his head around to ensure no one's watching. And once he's determined they're alone, the guy shoves Grandmother into the back of the SUV with a feral snarl and proceeds to pound the living crap out of her with his fist until she's unconscious, after which he hops into the driver's seat to peel off, all under the watchful eye of the infernal Snow White. By far , this is the most unnerving reenactment they've had this evening, as you might be able to tell by Raoul's silence. "[ Meep! ]" Punching grannies in the face is never a treat for you, is it, my scaly friend? "[ Meep! ]" I think we'll move on, before Raoul becomes too traumatized to breathe. "[ Meep! ]"
Meanwhile, Our Intrepid Hero and that stupid little midget prick of a brother of his I've yet to forgive have arrived at Callie's room -- for yes, the good Doctor Garrison was indeed reading aloud to his comatose daughter -- where they discover she's actually about twenty-five years old. "With fabulously glossy hair and a perfect make-up job!" Raoul hastens to add now that he's recovered from his recent bout of granny-abuse-related paralysis. "That was horrific!" Yes, yes it was, but shall we get back to the scene at hand? "Absolutely! I don't care to linger!" Long story short, Our Intrepid Hero and his stupid little fucking midget prick of a brother learn that Callie Garrison's been in a coma ever since she swallowed bleach when she was eight years old. They also discover that Callie was initially found in her present comatose state by her stepmother, who passed away only last year, leaving the good doctor bereft as Callie's now the only family he has left. And you can see where they're going with this, right? I don't have to hold your hand and lead you through it? Because The Stupid Little Fucking Midget Prick's still pissing me off, so let's get to the point: Our Intrepid Hero issues an armchair diagnosis of Munchausen Syndrome By Proxy for Callie's wicked stepmother, and he eventually realizes the eight-year-old apparition must be Comatose Callie's spirit screaming out for justice, or something. Just go with it, because the paramedics are now wheeling in Grandmother, who's "sustained multiple lacerations and puncture wounds" including a bloody bite on her throat , and we've lost Raoul again. "[ Meep! ]" As the poor woman flatlines and the attending nurses draw a sheet over hear mauled face, Our Intrepid Hero approaches the EMT who brought her in, and learns Grandmother "was found by the side of the road, barely alive, alone." When prompted, the EMT notes that Grandmother's only next of kin is a granddaughter.
A granddaughter in a little red hoodie who's just now getting out of school, as a matter of fact. Little Red Hoodie spots her grandmother's SUV and trots over to crawl into the back seat. It's only after she's settled herself that she calls out a greeting, and The Big Bad Wolf whips around in the front seat to leer at her as he slams a hand down on the minivan's autolock, trapping Little Red Hoodie right before he yanks the gearshift into Drive and tears off directly into the METAL TEETH CHOMP! DUN!
Hospital. Darling Sammy chases down the good doctor and prepares to blow the man's mind with the knowledge that his daughter's actually been kicking around town in spectral form over the last couple of days, wreaking Grimm havoc on his friends and neighbors. So, naturally, when he's done with his little "You're daughter's a ghost! " spiel, Our Intrepid Hero is quite taken aback when Doctor Garrison crosses to Comatose Callie's unresponsive side and states, "So, you've seen her, too?"
Grandmother's House. That other guy boots in the front door and makes with the Tough Guy Jazz Hands through the first floor until the little prick finds a scarred but alive Red Hoodie cowering in the dining room. Yawn. Eventually, The Big Bad Wolf pounces and proceeds to pound the living crap out of the little prick before hoisting the fucking midget into the air over his head and hurling the bow-legged piece of filth into a glass cabinet on the far side of the room. "VIOLENCE!" shrieks Raoul, squirming around with delight upon his overstuffed armchair now that the stupid little dwarf's finally getting what he deserves.
Hospital. Sam assures the good doctor that neither of them are crazy, and that Comatose Callie's stepmother did indeed poison the little girl. Garrison protests at this last, but Sam simply replies, "Sir, Callie told us." "Not in so many words," he adds, referring to the message sent by the red apple Spectral Callie left behind at Hoser Cinderella's, "but in her own way, she told us ." Garrison freaks.
Grandmother's House. The Big Bad Wolf's still knocking the snot out of the bow-legged pygmy, and Spectral Callie's almost as pleased with this development as Raoul and I are. "WANTON ACTS OF UNREPENTANT VIOLENCE AGAINST THE ABHORRENT PRICK!" Raoul shrieks with delight, his current hatred of the shrimpy homophobe easily overriding his paralyzing fear of preadolescent girls. " EEEEEEEEEEEEE! " As in the actual fairy tale, however, the huntsman in this situation manages to procure a pair of scissors -- these from Grandmother's knitting basket -- and starts going for The Big Bad Wolf's stomach. Spectral Callie follows the action intently with her eyes until her father's disembodied voice intrudes upon the scene. Spectral Callie buzzes and blinks and flickers out.
Hospital, and wow. Comatose Callie's got some rack on her. "I was just noticing that, too!" Pity she's going to be dead in about five seconds. "Demian! Spoiler!" Oh. Ooops. In any event, Doctor Garrison soothes Comatose Callie with his words, assuring her he now knows what she's been trying to tell him all this time, and he pleads with her to answer him, or something. It works, for Spectral Callie now appears behind him, and Darling Sammy gets this deeply sad look in his eyes when Doctor Garrison turns from the comatose version of his daughter to ask the spectral one, "Is it true?" Spectral Callie solemnly nods her head.
Meanwhile, The Big Bad Wolf's about to rip that fucking little midget to shreds. " Hooray! "
Unfortunately, Raoul and I must bounce back to the hospital with the camera for Doctor Garrison to deliver his valediction to Spectral Callie: "I'm so sorry, baby. But listen to me -- you gotta stop what you're doing, okay? You're hurting people. I know everything now -- I know the truth -- and it's time for you to let go. It...it's time for me to let you go." And with that, he draws his eyes away from the animated, eight-year-old specter of his daughter and focuses on her failing adult body. He gently strokes her hair for a moment before kissing her on the forehead, and this version of the fairy tale has no happy ending for the people immediately involved, because the kiss from her prince throws Snow White into a flatline. This makes Darling Sammy's hair very sad, indeed. Though, you know, give it up for Christopher Cousins and Ava Hughes in this scene, 'cause they both did really nice jobs with it. "Demian, I'm shocked! Since when have you ever had anything nice to say about those...those... things on our television screen ?!" Since the glorious Kripkeeper made sure this one didn't have any lines to read? "Oh!"
Meanwhile, The Big Bad Wolf's almost through with that fucking little midget when Spectral Callie breaks off the link she has with him so she can go into the light, or whatever. The Big Bad Wolf immediately flaps his hands around in the air, all, "Where am I?" The Stupid Little Fucking Midget Prick escapes with his life. For now. "DANG IT!"
Hospital. Doctor Garrison and Darling Sammy's Sad Hair weep and sob and dribble snot and really bad bangs into a commercial break most woefully CHOMP!-less.
Denouement. Doctor Garrison thanks Our Intrepid Hero again while rather anviliciously noting he should have let his daughter go a long time ago. Once the good doctor leaves the scene for the last time this evening, that little prick smarms something hateful about letting go and bow-leggedly stompy-clomps down the hospital corridor. Darling Sammy's Sad Hair clenches.
Later that evening, under the still-full moon, the midget slumbers in this week's motel room while Our Intrepid Hero silently hoists his backpack and tiptoes out into the parking lot. A short time later, Darling Sammy's slipping his fake Cumberland County Sheriff's ID into a small wooden box crammed with a variety of disgusting tools of the voodoo trade and, after carefully considering what he's about to do, Sam buries the summons in a hole he's dug with his bare hands at the center of a nighttime crossroads. Sam waits a very long time for the saucy demonette to appear, and when she finally pops into the frame behind him in that mysterious way of hers, it's Jared Padalecki's real-life girlfriend, the equally darling and adorable Sandra McCoy! "Hi, Sandra!" Raoul shrieks, for he's been a fan ever since he stayed up far too late one evening and caught Cry_Wolf on Showtime Edge. Sandra, of course, doesn't answer him, because she's too busy flashing a blood-red pair of saucy Crossroads Demonette eyes at her boyfriend. "I'm conflicted!" Raoul admits. "I love her, and yet I want to call her a lucky bitch at the same time!" I know the feeling, my scaly friend.
In any event, Sandra The Saucy Crossroads Demonette gets right into with, "Well! Little Sammy Winchester. I'm touched ." Yeah, in the head, maybe. "Little"? Sam? Take those blinding red contacts out of your eyes and try again, honey. Sandra The Saucy Crossroads Demonette ignores me as well, perhaps because she, too, realizes that there are still four minutes left in this episode, and we've got a ton of exposition to plow through before it's all over. "I mean," Sandra continues, "your [stupid midget of a] brother's been to see me twice, but you? I've never had the pleasure." Sam offers her nothing more than a stony bitchface, so Sandra allows her eyes to clear and politely inquires, "What can I do for you?" The shot cuts to a wide-angle of the two of them facing each other as Sam draws The Fucking Colt That Can Kill Anything Except When It Can't from his waistband to level it at her, and hee! Even standing on a box -- in heels , I'm sure -- Sandra Mc Coy's still a full foot and a half shorter than Jared Padalecki. They're so cute. Anyway, Sam aims The Fucking Colt's barrel at her throat and sneers in response, "You can beg for your life!" Sandra tuts, "And we were having such a nice conversation." Deadly Action Sammy makes with the angry retorts, so Sandra attempts to defuse the volatile situation by complimenting his weapon. "That's not the original [Fucking] Colt," she notes appraisingly. "Where did you get it?" Deadly Action Sammy just stares her down until she realizes she already knows the answer. " Ruby? " she eyebrows incredulously before rolling her eyes slightly and sighing, "She is such a pain in my ass." With an attitude like that, you'll fit right in on the forum boards, Sandra. Please, join us!
Sandra assures Deadly Action Sammy that Ruby'll get hers in the end, but Sam's there to make Sandra an offer, not gossip about the sparkly haired demon. "You can let [my stupid little midget prick of a brother] out of his deal right now -- he lives, I live, you live," Deadly Action Sammy seethes, "or?" And he punctuates that by noisily cocking the gun. "You stop breathing, permanently." "All of this tough talk," Sandra smiles after a tense moment, "it's not very convincing." She saunters around, blatantly turning her back on him as she teases, "C'mon Sam -- do you even want to break the deal?" "Whaddya think?" Sam duhs. "I don't know!" Sandra croons, spinning at last to face him again. "Aren't you tired of cleaning up [that little prick's] messes? Of dealing with that broken psyche of his? Aren't you tired of being bossed around like a snot-nosed little brother?" "You're stronger than [that puny little idiot]," she argues, really getting into it. "You're better than him -- admit it! You're here, going through the motions, but the truth is? You'll be a tiny bit relieved when he's gone." "Hee!" Raoul shrieks. "She said ' tiny '!" Oh, trust me, my faithful companion, I'm tittering about it, too. Ignoring both us and Deadly Action Sammy, who orders her to stop, Sandra continues, "No more desperate, sloppy , needy Dean. You can finally be free!" Deadly Action Sammy, meanwhile, is very, very tall, and very, very hot. "I. Said. Shut. UP. " he growls. "Mercy!" shrieks Raoul, fanning his overheated maw with one of his paws, for he is now a Southern lady with the vapors. "Mercy me!"
Deadly Action Sammy, meanwhile, repeats his original order, but Sandra all but waves her hand at this whole manly bravado thing, reminding Sam that his dim little midget of a brother "made that deal of his own free will, fair and square," so he won't be getting out of it anytime soon, as it's "ironclad." "Every deal can be broken," Sam counters. Sandra playfully flips her hair around and grins, "Not this one." "I'm just a saleswoman," she explains with a devilish twinkle in her eye. "I got a boss just like everybody, and he holds the contract, not me." "He wants [that miniscule bonehead's] soul bad," she continues, "and believe me, he's not gonna let it go." "You're bluffing," Sam challenges. "Shoot me," she shrugs, calling him on his own, "but the deal still holds, and when [that miniature moron's] time is up, he's getting dragged into The Pit." Sam finally lowers the gun, all but admitting defeat, as he demands to know the name of Sandra's boss. Knowing she's won this round, The Crossroads Demonette offers him a broad smile and carefully enunciates, " I can't tell you ." "I'm sorry," she concludes, "but there's no way out of this one -- not this time." She grins up at him as the drums go all tribal on the soundtrack. The camera pans slowly in on Sam's fretful face as the drums give way to a solitary and mournful reed for a moment until...
...Deadly Action Sammy shoots her in the face! " GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE! " Sandra's eyes snap wide open as the magical bullet does a zappy number on the demon inhabiting her body, and she spasms and jerks back and forth a couple of times before flopping back into the dirt, dead. I totally did not see that coming because I never thought they'd actually have Saint Sammy go there and as a result? It was awesome! Raoul would agree with me at this juncture, I'm sure, but he's too busy shrieking himself into a conniption over how awesome that was. And as the soundtrack goes apeshit underneath the final shot, the camera gets all up in Deadly Action Sammy's steely-eyed gaze until everything gets swallowed up by the final collapse into black. "Eeeeeeeeeeeee!"
Next week, Pirates Of The Caribbean , starring Posh Bela, The Bane Of My Existence. I'm pretty sure it's gonna suck. See you then!