The Lascivious Lass (hey, they still haven't given her a name yet, so why should I?) then challenges Our Intrepidly Mysterious Hero to a game of darts; if she wins, he buys her dinner and tells her his entire life story. Sam's prize for winning -- that would be getting this bleached blonde bint to shut the hell up already -- is never explicitly mentioned, but it doesn't matter, for he steps up to the line and immediately throws three bullseyes in a row. Atta boy. The Lascivious Lass, not getting the message (though in her defense, she is trying to get into Sam's pants), makes with more of the flirtatious remarks, so it's a happy thing as far as my sanity goes that the bartender's just cranked up the sound on a televised news report regarding dire doings in a nearby Oklahoman hellhole. The torrential hailstorm that assaulted the area beginning that afternoon suddenly turned into a rampaging cluster of lightning strikes that touched off fires now threatening to consume the entire town, which in that part of the state probably amounts to eighteen doublewides and a hayrick. "Is it me," the husky old coot of a bartender rhetorically wonders, switching off the depressing news, "or does it seem like the end of the world?" Sam clenches.

The next morning, Dean and Castiel arrive at the Kennebec County Sheriff's Office, and now even the goddamned location card must be counted amongst the LYING LIARS WHO LIE on this show, for it's claiming we're in Waterville, when everyone knows the Kennebec County Sheriff's Office is in Augusta. God! Our Dear Boy and His Dear Angel disembark from the Impala, with My Sweet Baboo expositing, "A deputy sheriff laid eyes on the angel," and you would think he'd have found some time to impart that rather vital piece of information during the eight and a half hours they just spent on the road, but whatever, because we've some wacky angelic hijinks to attend to. "So, what's the plan?" Dean asks. "We'll tell the officer he witnessed An Angel Of The Lord," Castiel earnestly replies, resolute in his faith, "then the officer will tell us where the angel is." "You're gonna walk in there and tell him the truth?" Dean buhs. "Why not?" Castiel squints. "Because we're humans," Dean emphasizes, "and when humans want something really, really bad, they lie." By the way, while he'd thus been explaining some of the finer points of earthly social interaction, Dean shoved a fake ID into Castiel's jacket pocket, and then buttoned My Sweet Baboo's collar before straightening the angel's perpetually messy tie. Adorable!