With their adversaries thus temporarily dispatched, Sam and Dean repair in the Impala to a strip mall's parking lot, where Dean grinningly presses a bundle of just-bought lottery scratch tickets into Sam's hands. "That was my gun he was aiming at your head," Dean reasons, "and my gun don't jam, so that was a lucky break." "Scratch one!" he orders, passing Sam a penny. Sam reluctantly complies, all the while fretting that the foot "has to be cursed somehow," and wouldn't you know it? He's just won $1200. Dean lets loose with an enthusiastic yawp and smiles, "I don't know, man -- doesn't seem that cursed to me!" Just you wait, Dim Dean. Just you wait.
Meanwhile, over at Chez Dipshits, Grossman's still out cold as Wayne slowly rouses himself and staggers to his feet. He stumbles towards the kitchen, deliberately kicking a discarded beer bottle out of his way, but the thing instead rolls ominously across the linoleum, coming to a stop halfway across the floor. Wayne obliviously totters past it on his way to the dingy apartment's filthy sink, and he slings a few dirty dishes and utensils into the countertop drainer -- the last a huge honking meat fork he stupidly inserts tines-up -- before leaning forward to splash water on his face. I immediately ignore everything else in this scene and instead cringingly await the meat fork's inevitable moment of glory. Raoul, meanwhile, has scooted forward to the edge of his overstuffed armchair, clapping his paws together in delighted anticipation. "Whee!" After a bit of dithering at the sink, Wayne finally starts back towards the living room, immediately and of course steps directly on the bottle, and flies backwards through the air to impale the back of his head on the murderous meat fork in the drainer, accompanied by appropriate sound effects. Grossman, awoken by Wayne's abruptly strangled shout of terror, rises to his feet as we catch some horrifically gruesome gagging noises coming from the kitchen, and he turns just as the camera spins to land on... "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" For yes, gentle reader, Wayne landed so heavily on the murderous meat fork that the goddamned thing shot straight through his neck and throat and is now jutting a full eight inches out of his bloodily gagging mouth while the rest of his almost-dead body twitches and spasms against the counter! "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Raoul squirms about delightedly on his overstuffed armchair, his shrieks threatening to enter ultrasonic territory as Grossman unhinges his lower jaw to unleash an impressive bellow of terror himself, but his effort unfortunately gets gobbled up almost immediately by the METAL TEETH CHOMP! "Againagainagain!" Raoul shrieks, flapping his paws around in the air with glee. What the hell? Let's!