Episode Report Card
Demian: A- | 4 USERS: A+
The Hardy Boys Raise a Little Hell

...Nonexistent NOW! The NOW! bailed this week because, as we quickly learn from the location card that emerges from the blackness at this point, the opening scene's set in St. Mary's Convent in Ilchester, Maryland, in 1972, and the NOW! resents being called a LYING LIAR WHO LIES. In any event, a candelabrum also emerges from the blackness to float above the location card for a moment until an otherworldly breeze rushes in from points unknown to blow the location card off the screen, and as the candles flutter in the unexpected gust, the camera follows their flickering off to the left for a bit before...shooting down the adjacent hallway towards a closed door! DUN! The door hides a small chapel, within which a balding and somewhat mopey-looking priest extinguishes a few devotional tapers until that otherworldly breeze bursts through the door behind him to charge up the aisle towards his back. As the camera advances, it becomes clear that otherworldly breeze is actually carrying a tremendously immense cloud of bitterly black demonic goo, and as the hapless mope up on the altar opens his mouth to scream, that cloud quickly overtakes the camera to spiral up through the air before roaring into a dive straight down the hapless mope's throat. Uh oh. The howling and the screams, however, cut off abruptly once we...

...leap forward a bit in time, and the screen fills with the hapless mope's now demonically enhanced eyes as he breaks the unnerving silence to recite, "Our Father, who art in Heaven." Naturally, the demonically enhanced priest can barely choke out that last word, but things really start to go south when he follows that up with, "Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah-blah-BLAH!" The camera skitters away to catch one of the eight nuns in the pews as she stifles a giggle, and I'm immediately yanked out of the scene because not only has this pert little twentysomething Bride Of Christ apparently seen fit to slap utterly unreasonable amounts of eyeshadow and rouge and lipstick onto her face before hitting daily Mass, but her eyebrows have been waxed to within inches of their lives as well, and what the hell, show? "I'm afraid I must step in to dispute your tone!" Raoul interrupts, somewhat appalled at my apparent ignorance. "Just because that charming young lass has already landed herself a husband is no excuse to let herself go!" Um. "Upkeep, ladies! Upkeep is the secret to any successful marriage!" Oh, Jesus. "Depilation! Epilation! Manicures! Pedicures! Lipstick! Lingerie! Girdles!" Wow. "What?!" You really don't get that whole Bride-Of-Christ thing, do you, Raoul? "Well! I've never met the gentleman, I'm sure! But wouldn't the dear lad want every single one of his seven hundred fifty thousand wives to look her best at all times!? Hmmmm?!" You know what, Raoul? Next time I see him, I'll ask, okay? "Okay!" So, might I continue? "Please do!" Rrrrgh.

ANY-way, Sister Mary Slapface stifles a giggle or two, but that's really not that important right now, because what is important is the fact that Father Schmidt's ambling down the main aisle from the altar, musing about evil and the Creator and whatnot right before he...ominously bolts the door! DUN! None of the nuns seem to notice this, however, so let's have a listen to the nonsense dribbling out of Father Schmidt's mouth at the moment, shall we? "We shall!" Knock it off, Raoul. "Hee!" "Sometimes," Father Schmidt admits, "I feel -- in a very literal sense -- that I have been wandering the desert for years, looking for our father." "Well, not our father," he amends, absently gesturing around to include his increasingly puzzled flock in the pews. "My father." "See, he's in jail," Father Schmidt continues, now walking back up the aisle, "and your dad put him there!" At this, Sister Slapface bolts upright in her seat, and her clumpy mascara goes, "Whaaaaaa?" just as Father Schmidt brisks by, more or less noting, "I almost gave up hope, but I finally found him -- or at least the spot where his cage door opens -- and it's right here! In a damn convent, for God's sake!" By now, Sister Slapface and the others of her order have become visibly unsettled by the demonically enhanced priest's decidedly erratic ramblings, but for whatever docile, obedient, and otherwise brainless reasons, they remain in the pews with their hands folded uselessly in their laps instead of, oh, I don't know, getting the hell out of there by any means necessary. Stupid nuns.

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