Meanwhile, out in the shed of tools, Darling Sammy tries to keep the remaining Monster Chow calm until Dean arrives with the sad news that Probably-Gay Uncle didn't make it. The remaining Monster Chow's reactions to this are either oddly subdued for some strange reason or simply indicative of the fact that the cast was as hideously bored with the material by this point in the production as we in the audience are with the episode by this point in the evening. "[YAAAAAAAAAAAWN!]" That was positively jaw-cracking, Raoul. I'm impressed. "Thanks!"
Later, Sam dutifully pages through Suicide Rebecca's diary while The Legend Of Billie Jean emotes in the corner for the benefit of Husband and absolutely nobody else. Poor Helen Slater. Too bad she didn't get picked for a better episode, because I actually like her a lot. Oh, and for what it's worth, they also reference That Unnamed Family Tragedy I Could Not Possibly Care Less About Because Etc., Etc., Shut Up, Boring People I Will Never See Again.
And then, sometime even later than that, Dean and Husband engage in a touching heart-to-heart at the foot of the porch steps regarding That Unnamed Family Tragedy I Could Not Possibly Care Less About Because Etc., Etc., And Did I Not Just Tell You Assholes To Shut Up About It Already? Are You Deaf On Top Of The Stupid? Sigh. Well, for what it's worth, here's another pointless plot point to add to your Pub Trivia collection: Their older son, Andy, died in a car accident. "[YAAAAAAAAAAAWN!]" You better be careful, dude. You're coming close to dislocating your jaw, there. "Don't worry about me! I'm double-jointed!" Wait. You're double-jointed in your...never mind. So did not need to know about that.
So, where the hell was I? Oh, yeah: Sam finally emerges from The Shed Of Tools to drag Dean into the house for a chat for some completely incomprehensible reason, because this and the preceding scene by all rights should be taking place in The Shed Of Tools, what with The Shed Of Tools being the absolute safest place on the entire farm, which is important because, as I believe I've mentioned a couple of times before, they've got twin inbred mutant freaks -- with apparently amazing night vision despite their troubled genetic history -- slobbering after all of their goddamned asses, so you'd think they'd want to hole themselves up in the absolute safest place on the entire goddamned farm for these endless goddamned tête à têtes, right? RIGHT?