Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter THEN! I'm not sure if you guys remember this, but Sam doesn't have a soul.
Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter NOW! As the camera pans through a night-darkened cornfield, the location card rather oddly types itself into the left-hand corner of the screen, informing us we've arrived in "The Heart Of Hoosierland," Elwood, Indiana, for this part of the evening's festivities. The camera then slowly skims past a late-model pickup truck until it lands on the entwined figures of two teenagers chastely necking on a blanket spread out in the middle of a clearing. The scene's dimly lit by some sort of inexplicable cornfield lamppost, and when a swiftly passing shadow momentarily cuts off that source of light, the letter-jacketed male of the duo detaches his lips from the female to sit up and wonder, "Did you see that?" "See what?" comes the expected response, and when the camera ominously sweeps past the edge of the corn as if following some dark and forbidding beastie, the male of the duo rises to his feet to exclaim, "There's something out there!" "Patrick!" the girl chides, thereby gifting her erstwhile mack-mate with a proper name for the remainder of his brief time on screen while sounding more than a bit irritated and thwarted at the same time. "There's something out in the corn," Patrick reiterates, stepping closer to the corn's edge, and just as his never-named girlfriend stands to complain, "You're freaking me out!" that dark and forbidding beastie audibly grumbles through the crops. Our imperiled duo jumps a bit at the noise, and because he is stupid, Patrick decides to enter the field proper for a quick look around instead of, oh, leaping into that goddamned pickup truck and driving the hell out of there.
"Fools!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, a harshly accusatory yet perfectly manicured claw stabbing at the television screen. "Why are they always such fools?!" Because if they were smart, we wouldn't have a story? "Oh, pish!" Raoul shrieks again, his general disgust with this overused trope becoming ever more evident with each carefully enunciated word. "Could not the good gentlebeast in the corn come swooping in to eviscerate them!? Must these dimwitted children go traipsing into those...! Those plants, thereby making it impossible to witness their well-deserved and gruesome demise?!" A-ha! So, it's not really the fact that they're stupid enough to enter the cornfield that's bothering you, but rather the fact that we'll not be treated to gushing founts of fresh arterial spray when the time comes? "Well, naturally, you silly little man! What is the point otherwise, hmmm!?" You're actually asking me what the point is? "Yes!" In this, the most pointless of Supernatural's many, many seasons? "Yes!" Really, Raoul? "Yes!" Well, you're never going to get an answer, my scaly friend, because there isn't one. "Hmph!" Oh, don't pout. "Hmph!" Okay, fine: Pout, but might I continue? I'd like to get this recap over with before the holiday weekend, and I must admit, you're not making it especially easy for me at the moment. "Fine!" Good. "Good!" Excellent. "Excellent!" Are you mocking me? "Are you mocking me?!" There's no call to get snippy. "There's no call to get snippy!" I am a featherheaded lizard. "I am a featherheaded...! HEY!" Hee.