"Nancy?! EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" You must forgive Raoul's over-exuberance and high-pitched squealing at the moment, as the darling little...hey! Dude, don't pony on top of your goddamned armchair! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Fine, fall and break your neck -- see if I care! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" God! ANY-way, this next scene has opened with Nancy Sinatra's "These Boots Are Made for Walkin'," which is why my faithful recapping companion is now shimmying in so foolhardy a fashion high atop his overstuffed armchair. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" In non-Raoul news, the camera's darted over to an RV park in Tennessee, where it eventually finds Crowley chilling inside a heavily be-sigiled motor home with a glass of Johnnie Walker Black as yet another CBA newslady tells us of the miraculous spontaneous worldwide eradication of leprosy. Which is actually kind of clever of this show, when you think about it. Leave it to Castiel to eradicate a Biblical scourge that modern science has pretty much already taken care of, instead of something far less Old Testament yet far more relevant like cancer or AIDS. Anyway, no sooner has Crowley eased himself into an overstuffed armchair of his own when the TV buzzes and blinks and flickers off, seemingly of its own accord. As expected, Castiel materializes at Crowley's side and mildly observes, "You look stressed." "Bollocks! Crowley sighs, and with that, we walk all over this season's first CHOMP-less commercial break. "DOON-DOON, DOON-DOON, DOON-DOON, DOON-DOON, DOON-DOON, DOON-DOON, DOON-DOON, DOON-DOON CHUNG! Chicka-CHUNG! Chicka...!" KNOCK IT THE HELL OFF ALREADY. "Hee!"
Trailer park. Aftermath. Crowley gamely prepares to be smote, or smited, or smitten, or whatever the hell that stupid word should be, but Castiel's got a bit of a surprise. You see, he's determined it's in his best interest to keep Hell going -- you know, as a threat to those who would cross him -- and he'll thus be needing Crowley to return to his day job, pronto. Of course, the usual distribution of souls will be altered effective immediately, with Heaven receiving the far greater share from now on, as Castiel would hate to see Crowley amass enough power to mount an effective rebellion. Crowley has little choice but to accept Castiel's proposal and scurries back to the bar to offer his new boss a friendly little cocktail, but alas! My Godly Baboo's developed an irritating rash on his hand, and so must skedaddle, now. Next!