RAAAWWWR!

[...?]

RAAAWWWR!

[Cough, cough!]

RAAAWWWR!

Raoul, what the hell? RAAAWWWR! "Whaaa? Ooops! Sorry, that opening sequence had me so mesmerized by the end that I completely missed my cue! Eeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Sizzle, Sizzle NOW! For real this time! A diner waitress grabs a plate from a short-order cook, and we follow her into the main seating area, where we find Our Intrepid Heroes lounging in one of the booths. Dean's popping ketchup-coated French fries into his gaping maw while Sam glumly taps away at the laptop they've evidently acquired to replace the late, lamented Goth-Girl variation. And why is Darling Sammy in such a mood? Because he's found Dean's St. Louis mugshot online, of course. The police in that city have evidently reissued the warrant for El Deano's arrest, and this means he's now "officially in the Feds' database." "Dude," Dean grins, "I'm like Dillinger, or something." "It's not funny!" Sam pisses. "It makes the job harder -- we gotta be more careful now." Dean rolls his eyes at his younger brother's snit and flips it all back onto him: "Whadda they got on you?" Sam, taken off guard, frowns a bit and starts tapping away at the keyboard again. "I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet," he sniffs. Heh. "No accessory?" Dean blurts, disbelieving. "Nothing?" Sam, embarrassed, is all, "Shut up!" and Dean's all, "UR JUS JELASS!!!!1" and Sam's all, "Am not!" and Dean's all, "R2LOL!!!!1!" and then Dean stuffs his gob with a fistful of French fries, and thank God for that, because I can't stand typing that way. Dean finally asks for the details of their current case, and Sam obliges by snapping shut the laptop to read from a sheet of paper, "Architect Shawn Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed." Dean thinks that building a high-rise just to jump off the top of it is "classy." They then babble about the late Shawn's frantic phone calls to animal control in the days before he died. "Did he actually say 'black dog'?" Dean demands. Sam confirms that, and goes on to note that no one else saw the thing. Nor, he adds, can the authorities explain how a "vicious, wild" dog got past security to ride the elevator up to the top floor of the most exclusive residence in town. "You think we're dealing with an actual Black Dog?" Dean wonders, and Sam and the entire audience are all, "Duh-HUH, moron, because this show is called 'Supernatural,' right? Which means you deal with supernatural things like Black Dogs, right? RIGHT?" Or maybe that was just the entire audience, and Sam simply forked over a sheaf of research on the creature in question while blathering on about the mythology behind it all. Dean, who'd been examining an illustrated article on Fenrir, smirks, "I bet they could hump the crap out of your leg." "Huh?" he adds encouragingly, flipping the picture around for Sam to see. "Look at that one!" Heh. Sam's all, "Ohmigod, you are so immature!" but the camera's already panned away from his head past something black so it can...