...The Emporium's kitchen, where his redheaded mother's just now serving supper to "Ed," his drunken, abusive lout of a father. That beflanneled brat from before races in on the scene, for the beflanneled brat is of course none other than Wee Bobby himself, and clumsy Wee Bobby promptly proceeds to tip over and shatter a glass of milk all across the heretofore spotless linoleum of the kitchen floor, thereby explaining Bullet-Brained Bobby's puzzling vision earlier at the church. The flashback then descends into a series of Abusive Daddy/Doormat Mommy/Punching-Bag Kid clichés so sadistic, Bullet-Brained Bobby has little choice but to slam shut those fancy sliding kitchen doors, an action for which we remaining few in this godforsaken show's rapidly dwindling audience should be eternally grateful. "Now, you can't tell me that wasn't gnarly enough to go spelunking in," Rufus unwisely chides. "That was any given Tuesday night," Bobby snaps back a little too quickly, so we know that this particular Tuesday night is indeed Bobby's Worst Memory Ever, which means we'll be revisiting it long before the end of this episode, but because they still have a full nineteen minutes of show time left, we must first play along as Bullet-Brained Bobby determines their best course of action is to "stop the damn Reaper" instead. This should suck. And be agonizing to sit through. And then suck some more.
Hammonton Hospital Of Horrors, and wow. They expect me to care about Our Intrepid Heroes while all this other crap is flying around tonight? Forget it. Let's get through this quickly, then, shall we? One of Soon-To-Be-Dead Bobby's doctors offers the boys a tiny bit of good news along with a tremendous amount of the bad sort. On the good side, "the bullet didn't shatter," and "only one hemisphere of [Bobby's] brain was injured." On the bad side, nearly no one survives a bullet in the head, so Bobby's basically fucked. Then, to add insult to angst, a hospital administrator pulls Dean aside to inquire as to Soon-To-Be-Dead Bobby's wishes regarding organ donation. Naturally, Dean explodes at the very idea of turning the irascible old hairball into an organ farm and, after verbally chewing the hapless administrator a new one, he executes a perfectly turned Dean Winchester Patented Bow-Legged Clompy-Stomp Of Great Vengeance And Furious Anger out to the parking lot, where he finds the ubiquitous Mr. Roman chilling in the latter's chauffeured car. Several nosy bystanders immediately whip out their smartphones to record the ensuing confrontation, which of course doesn't amount to much, because the good Mr. Roman's not stupid enough to rise to the adorable little rage monkey's bait. And I think that's about it for all that. Thank God.