Naturally, it's at this point that the fuse box blows, plunging them all into darkness for a moment until Sam fires up the handy Coleman lantern they've brought along for just such a contingency, and allowing Dean to ramp up his bitchery like so: "This is stupid!" No comment. "Our quality of life is crap!" he continues. "We got Purgatory's Least Wanted everywhere, and we're on our third 'The World's Screwed' issue in, what, three years? We steered the bus away from the cliff twice already!" Which is why you all should have called it quits after Season Five, hon. Dude, seriously: Do not come looking to me for sympathy on this one. Idiots. Darling Sammy ignores me, as is his depressing wont, to primly point out, "Someone's got to do it." "What if the bus wants to go over the cliff?" Dean snaps back. "You think the world wants to end?" Sam eyebrows by way of response. "I think," Dean growls, "that if we didn't take its belt and all its pins away each year that, yeah, the whole enchilada would've offed itself already." Bobby warns him against attempting to "wrestle with the big picture" lest Disheartened El Deano break his brain, or something like that, and with Dean having thus established his Issue Of The Week, we head into this evening's first round of exposition.
Long story short, there has been a rash of sightings as of late across the southern Pine Barrens of a "strange, fast-moving, human-like creature." Quite reasonably, the locals seem to believe it's the latest manifestation of the centuries-old Jersey Devil. As Diligent Sammy notes, however, this time around, the thing "might just have a body count." With that, he passes Bobby a news clipping whose headline reads, "Camping High Season Harshed by Human Burrito." The article details, of course, the untimely death of this evening's first bit of Monster Chow, whose actual name was "Mitchell Rayburn." Sam further notes that, in addition to Dead Mitchell, "there have been four other missing persons reported in the last three weeks." Bobby's way stoked, because they're apparently in for some "honest-to-goodness wilderness hunting," and he hasn't used his .30-30 in a while. "Ooo-kay, Davy Crockett," Dean snarks, "safari's gonna have to wait until tomorrow, and after we do our suit-and-tie dance -- we gotta make sure this isn't just some backwoods crackhead who likes to roll glampers." "'Glampers'?" Bobby buhs. "High-end campers," Sam explains with a slight, sardonic smile on his face. "TV, AC, Wi-Fi -- back to nature, zero inconvenience." "That's idiotic," Bobby frowns, suddenly deciding to get all judgmental for some reason. Sam briefly darts his eyes around their squalid surroundings and sighs, "Yeah, some people just don't know how to live."