Supernatural
Mommie Dearest

Episode Report Card
Demian: A | 5 USERS: A+
YOU GRADE IT
What Are Hardy Boys Doing In This Closet?
In a hurry? Read the recaplet for a nutshell description!

Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter THEN! Crowley, as I'm sure you'll recall, spent most of the first half of this season interrogating a wide variety of beasties in what appeared to be an abandoned asylum until My Badass Baboo most awesomely torched the demon's bones, thereby immolating Hell's temporary new master while bringing to a close what had been an exhausting storyline for everyone involved. Shortly after all that happened, we learned that each of those tortured beasties emanated from a single source known as "The Mother Of All," an entity who can only be defeated through judicious application of phoenix ash. So, Our Intrepid Heroes traveled back in time to 1861 to secure a bottle of said ash, which brings us right up to the...

...Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter NOW! The advancing NOW! dissolves into the night sky, allowing the camera to pan down until it lands on a tidy little strip mall currently playing host to, among other establishments, the "8TH STREET SPORTS LOUNGE." And as the camera continues to work its way towards the ground, two boozy frat boys emerge from the SPORTS LOUNGE in question to bitch about the bar's prices until one of them spots The Mother Of All sauntering on over in their general direction from points unknown. Mother, as is her wont, has clad herself in little more than a bloodstained white shift for this portion of tonight's entertainment, and when Douchetard Number One greets her arrival with, "Heaven must be missing an angel!" she unfortunately does not immediately tear his head from his neck with her bare hands. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, once again jumping the gun considerably whilst writhing about atop his overstuffed armchair with delight, and Raoul! "Yes?!" I said "she unfortunately does not immediately tear his head from his neck with her bare hands." "Oh, poop!" Now, there's no need to pout, my scaly friend. "[Sulk!]" Things are about to get quite vicious, I assure you, so if you'll just be patient and let me continue? "Promise!?" Promise. "Then by all means!" Excellent.

So, while Mother unfortunately does not immediately tear the douchetard's head from his neck with her bare hands, she does brush a couple of ominous fingers against his cheek, so I think it's safe to assume that Douchetard Number One is not long for this world. "And thank heavens for that!" Raoul? "Ooops! Sorry! Hee!" ANY-way, Mother vanishes off towards the bar, leaving the douchetards alone in the parking lot and, after a series of sickly red lines race unnoticed through the capillaries just beneath Number One's skin, the now-imperiled douchetard grins, "I think she likes me!" Douchetard Number Two quite rightly rolls his eyes at this and drags his companion off towards their car while...

...Mother enters the bar proper, barefoot, to the deeply funkadelic opening bass line of Hot Chocolate's "You Sexy Thing." She takes a moment to scan the crowd -- there are at least two dozen patrons and employees currently mingling with each other -- then turns to bolt the front doors, effectively barricading them by snapping off both the lock's twist knob and the doors' handles. Once this is done, she calmly saunters across the floor until her somewhat disheveled appearance draws the attention of two boozehounds slouched across a nearby table. "You okay?" the first of the boozehounds leans forward to ask. "I'm perfect," Mother replies in an off-puttingly affectless tone of voice that makes me curse the day they ever cast this so-called actress in this role. "Is that blood?" the first of the boozehounds asks, pointing to the crimson smear staining her dress. "I suppose it is," Mother shrugs by way of reply, and I'll not be ranting about how much this actress's line delivery sucks at the moment because I fear dear Raoul is growing restless, and we are so, so very close to the gratifying viciousness I promised him two paragraphs ago. "Hurry, you foolish little man!" See what I mean? "CHOP-CHOP!"

"You sure you're all right?" the first of the boozehounds squints through his Bieberbangs, and Mother takes this expression of concern as an invitation to sidle on up to him and plant a great big sloppy wet one on his understandably surprised lips. A series of sickly red lines promptly explodes backwards from his mouth to wash up across his face before disappearing down his neck, and the first of the boozehounds sits there, stunned, as Mother nonchalantly abandons him to continue her trek towards the back of the bar. The first of the boozehounds soon lets his head drop forward into his chest, and as he descends into some sort of seizure, his companion calls out, "Hey! What the hell?" "I gave him a gift!" Mother calls back, never once breaking her stride, and as the first of the boozehounds continues to jerk around in the dim blurry background of the shot, Mother reaches out to cup an unsuspecting brunette's chin in her hand. Sickly red lines sprout up from the brunette's jaw line while the second of the boozehounds tries to haul his still-shuddering friend to the latter's feet, and as Mother stretches her arm to touch yet another young woman, the first of the boozehounds... suddenly bolts upright and tackles his companion to the ground! "VIOLENCE!" For her part, the infected brunette takes a flying leap at a startled businessman, and the other young woman flattens a bruiser twice her size against the pool table. "VIOLENCE!" All three of Mother's pets immediately start gnawing away at their respective victims' throats while Mother herself swipes someone's Mai Tai and settles onto a stool in the far corner to point and laugh at all the fun. "ATTA GIRL!" About half the other patrons race for the barricaded front doors, where they quickly twist themselves up into a heaving, panicky knot of screaming heads and desperately clawing hands while the initial three victims eventually slacken against the filthy floor with gaping wounds at their throats. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Mother's pets immediately lunge for fresh victims -- the brunette most impressively stripping one strapping gent from the frenzied pack at the doors to toss him halfway across the bar before jumping on top of him -- and as they tear through the throats of these new victims, the initial three suddenly roar back to life where they fell to attack the remaining patrons, and this chaotic, mindless horror sweeps through the room like a virus while Mother quietly sips her Mai Tai and Errol Brown wails at us about miracles and...

...Tinkle, Tinkle RAAAWWWR! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" I told you it was worth it. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Have you anything to add? "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" I guess not. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" I gotta say, though, that this was the best pre-credits sequence they've featured in months. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" I take it you agree with me. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Okay, I can't wait for you to calm down, so do you mind if I forge ahead without you for a bit? "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Wonderful.

Deep within The Lush Coastal Rainforests of Southeastern South Dakota, Dashing El Deano sits at a workbench in the Emporium basement, prepping five shotgun shells with last week's phoenix ash. Eventually, Darling Sammy arrives from above with the boys' hirsute host, and Dean admits he had "a little mishap" with the ash mere moments ago that has led him to question the stuff's efficacy. To demonstrate, he scoops a bit of it up in his fingers and rubs it into the skin on his forearm, grumping, "This stuff is supposed to burn t

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