...the wall phone labeled "F.B.I." is ringing over in the kitchen of Bobby's Emporium, deep within the lush coastal rainforests of central South Dakota. There's a supposedly tense moment wherein we're not sure if Bobby's going to pick up, what with his mysterious unresponsiveness earlier in the scene, but the gentleman of The Emporium soon wheels himself over to answer the thing with a thoroughly professional "Agent Willis speaking!" Sheriff Mills wrinkles her nose at the familiar-sounding voice and asks, "Bobby?" The pleasant smiles on Our Intrepid Heroes' faces freeze and slowly drop to the diner linoleum as the boys shoot each other wary side-eyes while Bobby gamely attempts to continue the ruse with a too-innocent "Excuse me?" Sheriff Mills isn't having it, however, and she snaps her cell shut as angrily as she possibly can before informing the LYING LIARS WHO LIE that Bobby "is a menace around here" with "an ass-full of drunk-and-disorderlies and mail fraud," so whatever Our Intrepid Heroes are planning with Digger "ends here, now." "Ten-four on that, 'agents'?" she eyebrows before sweeping on out of there, and with their LIES so efficiently exposed, Sam and Dean have little choice but to motor on over to...

...Bobby's Emporium, which is apparently well within the Sioux Falls metropolitan area, just in case anybody cares. You know, besides yours truly, who will now have to accustom himself to typing "Bobby's Emporium, deep within the lush coastal rainforests of southeastern South Dakota." Sigh. Anyway, the boys chastise Bobby for ignoring their earlier calls until Dashing El Deano notices something funny in the Emporium air. "What is that smell?" Dean gags. "Is that soap?" Dean wonders, appalled. "Did you clean?" Dean accuses. "What're you, my mother?" a rather dapper-looking Bobby snaps back. "Bite me!" Heh. Darling Sammy, ever the unusually large buzzkill, chooses to roll his eyes at all of the hilarity and perch himself upon Bobby's research desk to pepper the cripple with questions regarding Bobby's whereabouts the last couple of days and why Bobby's apparently ignoring the zombie that's risen to start offing trailer trash not five miles from The Emporium. Bobby insists that there's nothing to "the Benny Sutton thing," explaining not only that Digger Wells is an unrepentant drunk, but also that "there's a list of the living a year long" who wouldn't have hesitated "putting a cap" in Benny Sutton's ass, so great a son of a bitch was the late and apparently unlamented Heshy. "Looks like you wasted a tank of gas on this one," Bobby shrugs. "Great," Dean mutters. "I'm bored!" shrieks Raoul, flailing about upon his overstuffed armchair. "Where are the zombies!?" Raoul continues, his volume steadily and predictably increasing as he works himself up into yet another almighty snit. "I WAS TOLD THERE WOULD BE ZOMBIES!" Raoul howls, and Raoul! "WHAT?!" Calm down! "WHY!?" Because the goddamned zombies don't start snacking on those goddamned intestines for another goddamned twenty minutes, and I'll be goddamned straight to goddamned Hell before I listen to you goddamned whine about it until then! "Well!" Raoul sniffs, his dudgeon high. "You'll pardon me, I'm sure! But I simply haven't the time to waste on this bloodless nonsense!" You're still under house arrest, you dizzy lizard -- what else are you going to waste your time on, huh? "Why, I've Easter eggs to dye!" And with that, Raoul squirms from atop his overstuffed armchair to toddle off in a huff towards his den, trailing an air of practically visible contempt behind him. Drama queen. "I heard that!"