...this week's motel room, where they suit up with welding goggles and enormous non-conductive rubber gloves to test the evil joy buzzer on a giant ham. Heh. Dean jams the buzzer's business end into the raw meat, and within seven seconds, he's got himself a tasty roast. "What the hell?" Sam breathes, pulling off his goggles. "That stuff isn't supposed to work!" "This thing doesn't even have batteries," Dean officially reminds Sam, but he's actually really reminding everyone in the audience, because let's face it: When's the last time any of you saw a joy buzzer? While Dean proceeds to shovel slices of freshly cooked ham into his mouth, the boys bang their heads together and suppose they're dealing with objects cursed by "some powerful witch in town." Fortunately for the purposes of their investigation, both the fatal itching powder and the evil joy buzzer were purchased at the same store, so after Dean packs his pockets with delicious ham, Our Intrepid Heroes head on over to...

...The Conjurarium, which carries the impressive-looking motto "Validus Veneficus Hic," which roughly translates as "MY MAGICK ROOOLZ UR MAGICK DROOOLZ!!!!!!1!!!!11!" Dean's overjoyed to find whoopee cushions in stock, because he is twelve, and because that fact will become important later in the episode. In the meantime, The Conjurarium's somewhat pompously mannered and Canadian-accented owner emerges from the back of the shop to introduce himself. He's sporting high-waisted dad jeans under a carefully tucked Siegfried And Roy t-shirt, and while the existence of each item of clothing can certainly be attributed to the demonically foul influence of Satan himself upon the earth, the overall effect tends more to indicate extreme dweebishness in their owner rather than the extreme wickedness Sam and Dean are looking for, so it's little surprise when we discover he's not the powerful witch the boys suspect him to be, which occurs when Dashing El Deano electrocutes a rubber chicken on the shop's counter with the evil joy buzzer. The Conjurarium's owner emits a terrified squawk and collapses to the floor in a comically exaggerated swoon over the sight of so much melted chicken, so Our Intrepid Heroes splutter profuse apologies before beating a hasty retreat, and that poor schmuck's never going to get that damn rubber off his counter, ever. Sam and Dean can be real assholes sometimes. "I agree!"