Back in the present, Our Intrepid Heroes have arrived at the Carrigan's suburban colonial, and as many have noted on the boards, it looks like a Hallmark store threw up all over it. Dean raps the festively decorated knocker a couple of times, and the door's promptly answered by Madge herself, a rosy-cheeked and preternaturally bubbly matron played by Merrilyn Gann, best known to Everwood loyalists as Rose Abbott. "Yes?" Madge sings with a bright smile on her face. Dean replies with a bright smile of his own and asks, "Please tell me you're the Madge Carrigan who makes the meadowsweet wreaths?" "Why, yes I am!" Madge happily replies, and Dean surreptitiously examines the gaudily appointed tinseltime-heavy interior of Madge's home, while Sam notes that Cozy Crafts unfortunately sold out of Madge's design before the boys got a chance to buy one of their own. "Oh, fudge!" Madge commiserates, for alas, she hasn't any more of her limited-edition creations to offer them. Meanwhile, her pipe-toting husband Edward's arrived from above, and as he's as bizarrely hale and hearty as she is vivacious and lighthearted, we know something deeply wicked's afoot at the Carrigan manse.
Apparently, Our Intrepid Heroes have reached the same conclusion, for we've leapt back to The Kinkade Suite, where Dean's busily and messily whittling some evergreen wood into stakes while Sam turns up some proof of the Carrigan's secretly nefarious ways via his mad Googling skillz. "The Carrigans lived in Seattle last year," Sam paraphrases from his laptop's screen, "where two abductions took place right around Christmas. They moved here in January, and all that Christmas crap in their house? It wasn't boughs of holly -- it was vervain and mint!" "So," Dean guesses, "Ozzie and Harriet are keeping a pagan god hidden underneath their plastic-covered couch?" Sam hasn't a clue, but as it's their likeliest lead thus far, the boys gather up the evergreen stakes and head back over to...
...The Carrigan Manse, whose apparently absent residents are nevertheless currently piping "O Come All Ye Faithful" out into the neighborhood for all to enjoy. Once on the front porch, Dean expertly picks the lock, and the two snoop around the overdone first floor with its snowglobes and gingerbread houses and hundreds of little Santa dolls until Sam spots the deadbolt on the basement door. The next thing we know, Our Dear Boys warily descend the staircase by flashlight, the beams dancing around the generalized gloom until Dean's lands upon a large porcelain enameled bowl filled with what just might be human rib bones, and you'll have to pardon me for a moment while I poke Raoul with a stick. "ZZZZZZZZZ-ow! What on earth is the matter with y...GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" I thought you'd want to be awake for this. "Oh, you lovely little man! It looks delicious!" You're so easy to please, my scaly friend. In any event, Sam's flashlight passes across some longer, grue-encrusted leg bones on the floor before it finds large splashes of blood on the stairwell itself, and as Raoul writhes around in his overstuffed armchair with delight at each new and disgusting -- albeit poorly lit -- tableau, Our Intrepid Heroes continue to stumble across various dismembered remains and the bloodied industrial machinery used to eviscerate the unfortunate gentlemen of Ypsilanti, until Sam gets far too close to a plot hole and falls in. ...Ooops. Sorry. My bad. He actually gets far too close to The Thing From The Chimney's leatherlike people-sized sack, dangling from a meat hook, and when Sam inadvertently brushes up against it, the still-gagged gentleman inside starts desperately thrashing about. We'll pretend that didn't happen, and that the gentleman inside has been long dead, because the episode completely forgets about the poor sap after this scene, so let's keep this moving, shall we? "Yes! Let's!" Excellent. Sam of course leaps backwards in shock right into Madge's outstretched hand, and we've finally -- finally -- reached the If It's Thursday, Sam's Getting Choked portion of this evening's entertainment. Yep, Madge -- displaying an inhuman amount of strength -- hoists Our Dear Boy straight up into the air and slams him against a wall. Dean, ever the hot-headedly protective big brother, howls and charges up behind her with one of those pointy evergreen stakes at the ready, but alas! Fast Eddie's right there to bang Dean's forehead -- hard -- against the cement foundation, and too-hasty El Deano crashes to the floor, unconscious. Fast Eddie grins at his still-glaring wife and ambles on over to her side as Madge swivels her head back around in Sam's direction to chide in a singsong tone, "Gosh, I wish you boys hadn't come down here!" Sam, flailing around in her grasp, somehow manages to train his flashlight on her face. For whatever inexplicable reason, it briefly illuminates her true form, and as said form is typically foul and sunken-eyed and whatnot, let's skip ahead to the point where Madge rams Sam's head into the surrounding concrete so his remarkably healthy broad-shouldered form can drop straight into a terribly grateful METAL TEETH CHOMP!
A very hep instrumental of "We Wish You A Merry Christmas" -- groovy, baby, groovy -- swings away on the soundtrack as Sam and Dean return to sludgy-brained consciousness and find themselves strapped back-to-back into a couple of chairs in the Carrigans' kitchen. "So, I guess we're dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God," Sam shrugs as best he can. "Nice to know," he adds with a somewhat resigned yet sarcastic nod. Hee. Madge bustles in at this point -- she and Eddie have changed into a pair of complementary seasonal knits for the impending festivities, don't you know -- and sings, "Oh, and here we thought you two lazybones were gonna sleep right through all the fun stuff!" "And miss all this?" Dean sarcastically replies. "Nah, we're partiers!" "Isn't he a kick in the pants, honey?" Fast Eddie unironically enthuses, and as the utterly wholesome good humor these two Eisenhower-era throwbacks display through nearly all of the horror that follows is stubbornly recapper-proof, played for twisted laughs as it all is, let's get to the facts, such as they are: Madge and Eddie are, indeed, ancient pagan gods who used to receive upwards of a hundred human sacrifices a year back in the salad days, pre-Christianity, but once that "Jesus fellow" came around, they found themselves "hunted down like common monsters," so for the last two thousand years, they've kept their heads down, and when the time was right, they assimilated quite well into suburban American culture, thank you very much. Well, except for that whole abducting-and-eating-their-neighbors thing, but whatever. In the meantime, while they've been lecturing Our Intrepid Heroes, they've also been slicing open otherwise remarkably healthy forearms to drizzle fresh blood into ritual bowls and such, and now Fast Eddie approaches Darling Sammy with a pair of pliers, forces open the dear lad's hand, and slowly yanks out the nail from his index finger. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" bays Raoul, shrieking himself into an elated frenzy. "Again! Again! Let's watch it again!" Raoul, you know I'd do anything for you, but in this instance, I just simply can't -- my own fingernails feel like they're crawling back into my hands in sympathetic agony. "Oh, poop!" Raoul pouts. "Have it your way, then, you wimp!" I...intend to. Thanks? Now, where were we? Oh, yes: Fast Eddie next jovially moves to extract one of Dean's teeth, but fortunately for Dean's dazzling smile and my already shredded nerves, the doorbell rings. "Shuh-ah-ee gowwa geh 'at?" Dean slurs around a mouthful of hardware. "Yee shuul geh 'at," he nods once the bell has rung again. Hee.