This week, Our Intrepid Heroes motor over to Wellington, Ohio, where they learn that a local notorious for his short temper just had his head ripped off by the Incredible Hulk -- the classic Lou Ferrigno version, thank you very much, because "those movies were terrible" -- and quickly realize their old buddy The Trickster is at it again. Unfortunately for Sam and Dean, The Trickster gets the jump on them and immediately hurls them into a series of alternate realities modeled on various television genres, the first of which closely resembles Grey's Anatomy, right down to the Jeffrey Dean Morgan clone whose ghost is carrying on an affair with a still-living doctor. Dashing El Deano gets his damn fool self shot in the back right there in the hospital, so Darling Sammy's forced to operate on his brother immediately the only way he knows how -- with a penknife, a sewing needle, some string, and a fifth of bourbon. From there, The Trickster boots Our Dear Boys into a Japanese gameshow called Nutcracker, where the penalty for incorrect answers can be guessed by the show's name. Dean somehow manages to answer his question correctly -- in Japanese, no less -- and it's at this point that they realize they must successfully play the parts The Trickster has assigned them in order to survive.
They continue to bounce from one genre to the next, zipping through a three-camera sitcom with a laugh track, a herpes commercial, and a take on C.S.I.: Miami in which both Sam and Dean douche it up as Horatio Caine, before most awesomely ending up in a Knight Rider that stars some bizarre Impala/Darling Sammy hybrid as KITT. By this point, they've determined The Trickster isn't really a Trickster at all, and when they trap the guy in a circle of flaming Jerusalem oil, he finally admits he's actually Gabriel, yet another of the heavenly host who dropped out when God went missing all those many years ago. Didn't see that one coming, and I don't know where they're going with it, but this episode was one hell of a fun way to get there.
Rattle, Rattle THEN! Let's see: Lilith was the final seal, Our Intrepid Heroes are Angel Condoms for Lucifer and St. Michael, My Sweet Baboo ensnared Raphael in a ring of flaming Jerusalem oil just because he could, and The Trickster entered Darling Sammy and Dashing El Deano's lives for the first time nearly three years ago, though Our Dear Boys haven't seen him since Dean rather amusingly choked on a sausage. And in the end, The Trickster warned Our Dear Boys that they represented each other's greatest weakness, or something like that, but I'm afraid I'll have to tell him to shut the hell up at this point, for if he doesn't, we'll miss the...
...Rattle, Rattle NOW! The NOW! advances ominously towards the front of the television screen, as is its wont, before it vanishes into the blackness. A few moments after it's gone, the camera fades up on a suspiciously saturated establishing shot of The Sun 'N Sands Motel, and as the camera slides into an easy pan across the brilliantly lit, palm tree-lined façade, Dashing El Deano announces in a cheery voice-over, "Supernatural is filmed before a live studio audience!" I'm kind of hating this premise already. Then again, I don't think I've willingly watched a three-camera, laugh-tracked sitcom in more than a dozen years, so perhaps I'm not the best person to judge all of this. A peppy little upbeat music cue twangs onto the soundtrack as the camera ducks inside one of the motel rooms to catch Dean's hand as it shoves condiments back into the room's well-stocked refrigerator, and when Our Intrepid Hero turns to gaze lovingly at the two-foot-high Dagwood of a sandwich he's just erected, the supposed studio audience erupts with the expected applause, along with a series of WOOOOOOOs that make me positively homicidal. "I'm gonna need a bigger mouth!" Dean perks. "Dirty!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, clutching at his nonexistent pearls with an appalled yet perfectly honed paw, and if you think that's bad, my scaly friend, just you wait a couple of beats. At Dean's line, the supposed studio audience unleashes a braying collective guffaw that morphs into yet another series of murder-making WOOOOOOOs when Darling Sammy slides through the room's front door. "Hey there, Sam!" Dean sings upon his brother's entrance. "What's happening?" "Oh, nothing!" Sam chirps by way of response. "Just the end of the world!" More braying guffaws and applause from the supposed studio audience until Sam eyes Dean's erection and opines, "You're gonna need a bigger mouth!" "FILTHY!" shrieks Raoul, and see? I warned you. "You did indeed!" Raoul agrees before loudly wondering, "How did this trash ever make it past the charming little Network Standards people?!" I haven't the faintest, friend of friends, but might I hurry through this scene without further interruption? The sitcom format is clog-dancing on my last gay nerve. "Oh, by all means, please do! It's positively making my teeth itch!" Sounds uncomfortable, my impressively fanged companion. "It is!" Nevertheless, you'd best stop scratching at them, lest you ruin your manicure. "Eeeep!"