Rattle, Rattle THEN! I'm not sure if you all remember this or not, but just in case you don't, you should probably be aware that The Apocalypse began in the season premiere. Since then, Lucifer has unleashed three of The Four Horsemen upon the face of the world, though over the last several episodes, we've become acquainted only with War and Famine -- the latter of whom introduced himself via a diner slaughter so gruesome that Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon has been able to speak of little else since, despite the fact that that particular episode aired a grueling month and a half ago. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Ugh. In other news, Bobby Singer killed Mrs. Bobby a very long time ago, and Demented El Deano dejectedly admitted to himself that he doesn't know how he gets up in the morning anymore before Despairing El Deano begged the heavens for help. Are we all caught up now? "We are!" Excellent, because the...

...Rattle, Rattle NOW!'s rather insistently advancing towards the front of the television screen at the moment, and I feel it would be rude of us to ignore its typically subtle entrance. "Hi, NOW!!" shrieks Raoul, waving madly at the bloody thing with one perfectly manicured paw, and Raoul? "Yes?!" It can't hear you. "Hee!" I swear to God, Raoul, one of these days...oh, never mind.

Ahem. Somewhere remote, I'm sure, a violent midnight thunderstorm erupts overhead as the rarely seen VerminCam scurries through piles of cemetery leaf debris for a bit before rearing back on its haunches to examine the headstone of one "CLAY JAMES THOMPSON," a "FATHER, COACH, [AND] FRIEND" who apparently dropped dead on October 15, 2004, at the age of 42. Barely have we had a chance, however, to absorb all of that information when CLAY JAMES THOMPSON's mud-streaked zombie hand punches through the sod covering what should have been his final resting place, and I have to say this right now: This little stunt was far more awesome the first time they sprang it on us. In any event, CLAY JAMES THOMPSON's mud-streaked zombie head presently follows his mud-streaked zombie hand from the grave, and while my initial impulse is to hoot and holler about the glorious return of the hideous undead on this show, CLAY JAMES THOMPSON's looking suspiciously well preserved for someone who's supposedly been a-moldering in the ground these last five and a half years, so I'll be holding off on the enthusiasm and such until I've a better idea what's going on with this grimy should-be corpse, which I believe I'll be receiving right about...