"'Elroy McGillicuddy'?" Sam reads from the card with a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And his two loving sons," John adds, with far more affection than we've grown to expect from the evil, tedious bastard. Sam, not sure where the tone of his father's last statement is coming from, gamely yet grudgingly offers him a half-chuckle before Shut Up Daddy asks, "What else did the doctor say about Dean?" "Nothin'," Sam grimaces before adding, "Look, if the doctors won't do anything, then we'll have to." "I don't know," he continues, with much shaking of badly coiffed head, "I'll find some...hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on him." Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding! Correct answer, Psychic Boy! Hooray! Shut Up Daddy, however, simply agrees to "look" for somebody, which isn't enough of a commitment as far as Sam's concerned, and so the whole thing blows up into yet another argument between the two, with Puffy Sam refusing to "just sit around with [his] thumb up [his] ass" while Dean lays at death's door, and Shut Up Daddy snorting...something I totally don't care about before the whole tiresome little spat simmers down long enough for Shut Up Daddy to inquire after the fucking Colt's current disposition. Puffy Sam rolls his eyes into the back of his skull before huffing up a lungful of air to peeve, "Your son is dying, and you're worried about the [fucking] Colt?" Shut Up Daddy harshly reminds his younger son that they've got a demon on their collective tail, and the fucking Colt is their only protection against it. "It's in the trunk," Sam allows after tossing his father a tired glare. Shut Up Daddy's all, "In the trunk of the wreck that used to be your brother's car? We are both demonically screwed and arrested!" Or something like that. Sam assures Shut Up Daddy that he's already contacted Bobby to drive down to their current location (for those of you playing along at home, they're somewhere inexplicably near "I-83," which only runs through Maryland and South-Central Pennsylvania, like, whatever, show) for a tow. Shut Up Daddy orders Sam to meet up with Bobby to retrieve the fucking Colt, with instructions to return to the hospital with it immediately. Also, as almost too casual an afterthought, Shut Up Daddy passes Sam a grocery list of hunting-related provisions he'd like Bobby to procure. "'Acacia'?" Sam squints, peering at what his father's written down. "'Oil of abramelin'? What's this stuff for?" "Protection," John calmly replies. No, that's not suspicious at all! Right before Sam exits, he spins around to wonder if his father knew what The Ceiling Demon meant when the latter claimed to have "plans" for Sam and "the children like [him]." "No," Shut Up Daddy shakes his head. "I don't." LIAR! Sam The Amazingly Puffy Mind-Reading Psychic Boy fails to pick up on the lying lies his lying liar of a father is telling him and exits the room. Perhaps Sam's mind-reading abilities are being blocked by ALL OF THAT HAIR THAT HE NEEDS TO CUT ALREADY, FOR CHRIST'S SAKE. You know. Maybe.