Morgue, and you'll have to excuse me while I take a moment to poke Raoul with a stick, because I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want to miss what happens next. "Hey! What on earEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" For yes, gentle reader, Doctor Corman has summoned Darling Sammy to examine this never-named hamlet's latest mysterious fatality, which happens to be that of a former fattie who got a gastric bypass to drop his weight from "Dugong" to "Human-Appropriate." However, for whatever reason -- and as his now-bloated carcass attests -- "Lester Fitch," here, decided last night to go on a Twinkie binge, stuffing his gut until "he blew out the band around his stomach," after which he resorted to "jam[ming] the cakes down his gullet with a toilet brush," and... "EEEEEEEEEEEEE! [Thunk!]" Yep -- we've lost Raoul again, I'm afraid. "Glalalalalalaalallalalalllaalalalah!" Let me take another moment to shove a wallet into that gaping maw of his so he doesn't choke on his own tongue.
There. That's better. Now, where was I? Oh, yes: So poor, unfortunate Dead Lester was forcing those snack cakes down his throat "like he was ram-rodding a cannon," as the good doctor so vividly puts it, and now he's bloated-toes-up on a slab. "What do you make of it?" Sam asks. Doctor Corman draws a hip flask from his lab coat and, after taking a long, contemplative swig, he replies, "I'd say it was a very peculiar thing to do." "Peculiar"? Perhaps. "Awesome"? Most definitely. "Gauauauauuauauauauauh!"
Out on the street, Sam shares the details of Dead Lester's untimely demise with Dean via his cell phone, and Dean replies with news that this never-named village has seen eight suicides and nineteen intentional overdoses over the last couple of days which, as one would suspect, is far higher than the seasonal averages for such things in a town of this size. They ring off after agreeing to meet up with each other in ten minutes, and Darling Sammy's about to head back to this week's motel room when... his Spidey Sense sets to tingling! Again! Some more! DUN! The intentionally bald undertaker has just emerged from the coroner's office, you see, and as Our Intrepid Junkie is once again scenting massive amounts of sweet, delicious crack, he darts out of the frame to...
...attack the intentionally bald undertaker in an otherwise deserted alleyway! "AIIIOESSS! Ack! [Ptui!]" "VIOLENCE!" roars Raoul once he's managed to spit my now drool-encrusted wallet to the floor, and I won't be attempting that particular lifesaving trick again at any point in the near future. "WANTON ACTS OF UNREPENTANT JUNKIE-ON-CRACK-PIPE VIOLENCE AND GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Yep, the intentionally bald undertaker is actually a demon in intentionally bald undertaker's clothing, and The Crackhead Ginormotron, having sniffed out the sweet, delicious demonically enhanced blood coursing through the guy's veins, now flips him up against the wall to slash at his face and arms with The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't, for The Crackhead Ginormotron has rather uncharacteristically fallen back under the thrall of his addiction, and here merely wishes to wound his opponent rather than kill the bastard, because The Crackhead Ginormotron intends to, like, suck on the guy's cheek, or something. Or maybe his shoulder. Oh, I don't know. Leave me alone. In any event, The Crackhead Ginormotron still suh-huuuuuucks at the hand-to-hand at the moment, so the demonically enhanced undertaker's able to beat a hasty retreat, though he does leave that suspicious-looking briefcase of his behind. Along with, you know, a not insignificant amount of his demonically enhanced blood on the blade of The Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't, which The Crackhead Ginormotron agonizes over for a few very long seconds before wiping the blade clean with a rag he snags from a nearby Dumpster. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" You're loving this episode, aren't you? "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!"