...sneak into Biggerson's through the suspiciously unguarded kitchen entrance. Idiot. Oh, but get this: On his wary way towards the dining room, Our Intrepid Hero stumbles across... wait -- I have to wake him up for this. "Hey! EEEEEEEEEEEEE! [Thunk!]" It was brief, but it was worth it, I'm sure, for Our Intrepid Hero has stumbled across the bloated corpse of Biggerson's short-order cook, which is presently face-down in the still-bubbling deep fryer. Christ, but that has got to stank. Anyway, Dean stifles his gag reflex and soldiers on out to the dining room, where he finds Castiel...oh, for gross. Our Intrepid Hero might have no problems stifling his gag reflex, but the absolutely repulsive scene now playing out on my television screen is making it incredibly difficult for me to stifle mine. It's Castiel, on his hands and knees above a buffet tray overheaped with raw hamburger meat, and Misha Collins is pushing handfuls of that crap into his mouth, chewing, and swallowing it. "Glalalalalalaalallalalalllaalalalah!" Though, you know, thanks to this episode, I've learned that Misha Collins apparently lacks any semblance of a gag reflex whatsoever, which probably makes him, like, a rilly fun date. "Glalalalalalaalal -- DIRTY! -- lalalalllaalalalah!" And look at that! While I've been so busily alternating between retching and leching, a gaggle of henchdemons have drop-kicked Dimwitted El Deano right into the next METAL TEETH CHOMP!

Biggerson's. Aftermath. The henchdemons drag Dean into the restaurant's main dining room, where Famine's been eagerly awaiting Our Intrepid Hero's entrance. "What did you do to him?" Dean demands with a quick jerk of his head in his angelic boyfriend's direction. "You set your dog on me," Famine wheezes, "so I just threw him a steak." Castiel, oblivious, continues to shove cold, limp meat into his mouth. Dean snarls something stupid regarding Famine's methods, so Famine retorts that he really doesn't have to do all that much to push people over the edge -- especially in the United States, where our already-ravenous consumer culture has turned us into "a swarm of locusts in stretch pants" who nevertheless are "all still starving" because we've apparently failed to realize that "hunger doesn't just come from the body." "It also comes from the soul!" Famine hisses triumphantly. I'm certain Dean would chide Famine for unleashing so facile and sophomoric a bit of social criticism so late in the episode, were Dean not a complete fucking idiot. Gotta admit that that "locusts in stretch pants" line was pretty good, though. In any event, that whole Starving Soul crap conveniently leads us into the next segment of this neverending bout of blathering, as we finally get Famine's explanation for why Dashing El Deano and Dashing El Deano alone has remained impervious to Famine's influence throughout the course of the evening's festivities: "You're not hungry, Dean, because inside, you're already dead!" Good to know. Thanks, Famine!