Supernatural

Episode Report Card
Demian: D | 5 USERS: B+
YOU GRADE IT
The Hardy Whores Do Dallas

Church. The Attention Whore, mascara all smeary thanks to the copious crocodile tears now running down her cheeks, runs into a community hall that's packed with Renegade Lutherans despite the fact that it's past curfew to wail, "The angels hate us! They said we'll never get to Heaven because people are drinking!" "[Slurp!]" Shut UP, Raoul! "Hee!" "Who's drinking?" demands Jan or Janet or whatever the hell her redheaded ass is called. The Attention Whore whimpers. Next!

This Week's Motel Room. Drunken Sammy boozily pages through a couple of volumes of lore until...Drunken Castiel magically appears behind him! D'OH! "I got your message," My Woozy Baboo slurs, unsteadily rocking back and forth in front of the room's refrigerator, which he's flung open in search of more beer. "It was long, your message," Castiel rather amusingly continues, "and I find the sound of your voice grating." Hee. "What the hell happened to you?" Sam warily side-eyes. "I found a liquor store," Castiel replies. "And?" Sam prompts. "And I drank it!" Atta girl. "Hooray! [Slurp!]" There's a little more drunken schtick between the two boozehounds until Sam finally gets down to business. He brings Castiel up to speed on recent events, taking care to note that "Leah Gideon" -- and wow, I hate that fucking name -- has been receiving holy messages from God, which leads Castiel to blurt, "She's not a prophet." Sam's all, "You sure?" "The names of all the prophets are seared into my brain," My Sweet Baboo peevishly growls, "and Leah Gideon is not one of them!" DUN! Also: A-ha! This makes The Attention Whore a LYING LEAH WHO LIES! "Demian!" shrieks Raoul, rightfully appalled. "That was awful!" Oh, leave me alone, you dizzy lizard -- we've still got another seventeen and a half minutes to go in this wretched excuse for an episode, and I'm running out of gas, here. "Then for Heaven's sake! Taste of your hairy virgin already!" Um. I'd rather not just yet. Thanks for reminding me it's there, though. "No problem! [Slurp!]" Now, might I continue? "Please do!" Wonderful.

Somewhere outside, Deeply Depressed El Deano hears forest noises emanating from The Only Bar In Blue Earth, so he wanders on over to investigate. Seems The LYING LEAH WHO LIES has tasked a posse of Renegade Lutherans with shutting the place down permanently, and The Bartender -- "Paul," as we finally learn during the argument that follows -- quite naturally disagrees with this proposed course of action. The subsequent discussion goes a little something like this:

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Supernatural

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