To find the answer for that, Our Intrepid Heroes head up to see Marty The Writer, whose office, incidentally, is lined with posters for some of the movies featured in the fake commercial. You should know that the actual title is Revenge Of The Monster Truck, and the tagline is "This Bad Boy Doesn't Stop For Pedestrians." Hee. It also didn't stop for rational plotting, coherent characterization, sensible dramatization of notorious episodes from this nation's fraught racial history, believable geography, satisfactory resolutions, or logic, but I suppose that's the point. There's also a lurid poster for Carnivore Carnival, which I really want to see. ANY-way, long story short, it turns out Marty The Writer didn't actually write the relevant bits of the script. Nope, turns out Obsequious Walter actually penned the original screenplay -- a masterpiece entitled Lord Of The Dead -- which the studio then passed on to Marty for extensive revisions. Marty presumably provides Our Intrepid Heroes with copies of the original, and...
...after they've had a chance to scan through it, Sam announces that "it reads like a how-to manual of conjuration -- a textbook on how to summon ghosts and get them to do whatever you want," including killing the people who screwed up your screenplay. Obviously, Obsequious Walter has Issues. YAWN! "Don't you mean DUN!?" No, I mean YAAAAWN! "Ooops! My bad! Nevermind!"
Meanwhile, Obsequious Walter's summoned Marty to Stage Nine for The Obligatory Scene In Which The Villain Offers Justifications For His Reprehensible Actions, this one purportedly enlivened by Obsequious Walter's rant bewailing the inherent whorishness of the entertainment industry, and I really don't have time to listen to this crap, and as it involves two characters we're never, ever going to see again, let's cut to the chase: Obsequious Walter's got a super-secret super-special talisman, and after raising it up into the air and Latinating for a bit, he manages to summon Skippy The Floppy-Skulled Ghoul, who promptly pops up right behind Marty The Whore. The Whore unleashes quite the impressive bellow of abject terror, but it's no match for the METAL TEETH CHOMP!
As Obsequious Walter taunts and teases in the background, Skippy The Floppy-Skulled Ghoul drags Marty The Whore towards yet another Industrial-Grade Wind Machine Of Delightfully Gruesome And Chunky Death. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Unfortunately for Raoul, at the last instant a round of rock salt blasts through the fan into Skippy's already mutilated head, and the ghost instantly dissolves into an ectoplasmic spray that the fan streams backwards through the air above The Whore's head until it vanishes entirely. As Sam yanks the power cord on the fan, Dean charges over with a sawed-off shotgun to loom heroically above Marty The Whore's still-prone body. Whatever, Supernatural. You can pull all the creative camera angles you want, but I'm still going to call him Li'l Stumpy. Deal. "You are one hell of a PA!" Marty The Whore offers by way of thanks. "Yeah, I know," Dean agrees, right before hauling The Whore to his feet with one hand. Heh. Meanwhile, The Ginormotron advances upon hapless Walter to show his bow-legged midget of a brother how that looming shit's really done. Walter, understandably freaked by the rapidly approaching fifteen-foot tall harbinger of doom, retreats up the scaffolding's stairs to plead his boring case about artistic integrity, or some such crap, and it's all, "Waaaaaaah! You put years of your life into something, and then dirty little whores like that dirty little whore over there just dump their dirty little whore dumps all over it! Whiiiiiiiine!" Try working in an actual office for a living, you fucking tool. Whiny Walter eventually allows that he has nothing against Our Dear Boys and exhorts them to leave. However, Marty The Dirty Little Whore Dump has got to stay. "Sorry, can't do that!" Dean manfully insists. "It's not that we like him, or anything," he admits, "but it's a matter of principle!" Hee. Dean really does get all the best lines. "It's true!"