That evening, Sam -- with a backpack slung over one shoulder and some kind of saddle pouch dangling at his side -- quietly exits a motel room to amble too-casually through the adjoining parking lot in the rain. He sidles up to a sedan, glances around to ensure he's not being watched, jimmies open the lock with a strip of metal, and folds his fifteen-foot-tall self into the driver's seat. Moments later, he's tooling off into the night alone.
Some time later, Sam examines an address scribbled onto a sheet of paper from The Blue Rose Motel in Lafayette, Indiana. And this must be a very, very, very long some time later, if Sam's driven all the way to Lafayette from Washington State. Just saying. The camera moves away from the note to take him in as he warily peers through the mist at the apparently deserted street surrounding him before it follows as he picks his way towards the decrepit crack den at 5637 Monroe Street. Sam edges across the trash-bestrewn front porch to peek through the slats of a boarded-up window, then decides to break in through the back door. He picks the lock, tiptoes inside, and steps towards the front of the crack shack to...stumble across a trip wire! The wire snaps, and Sam -- in near slow-motion -- jerks his head to his right in time to spot the wire yanking the pin from a grenade tucked into an eye-level hole in the nearby wall. The camera cuts back to Sam, who hasn't even a second to react before the grenade detonates, and Sam's remarkably broad-shouldered form instantly dissolves into a spray of red Sam Bits, most of which batter loudly against the wall opposite. The camera leaps outside a nearby window to capture the full extent of the luridly roaring blast, and as the smoke and flame billow through the room, a meaty little Sam Bit SPLATS wetly against the suspiciously unshattered glass. "Oh, don't be dragging the physics of explosions into this," Raoul chides. "Sam Bits! Splattering everywhere! Wheeeeeee!" Once the explosion subsides, the camera leaps back inside the wreck of the room to linger upon one of the ginormotron's impossibly large and now-smoking shoes. "And you know a good part of his foot is still in there!" Raoul bellows approvingly before losing all control of himself and shrieking, "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" for the second time in less than ten minutes. "If you don't give this episode an A," Raoul pants, attempting to collect himself after all of the excitement, "I am never speaking to you again."