Naturally, the trap springs, somehow propelling the golf ball back towards the front of the garage, where it proceeds to bounce off that stick Our Imperiled Gent used to prop open the door, and... "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" For yes, gentle reader, the stick snaps, sending that garage door trundling straight back down to decapitate Our Soon-To-Be-Dead Guest where he lies. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Our Dead Guest's body jerks about spasmodically for a couple of delightfully gruesome seconds as an ever-expanding puddle of blood spills out towards the driveway, and barely has the camera leapt back to gift us with a wide shot of Our Dead Guest's corpse when it's time for the...

...Tinkle, Tinkle RAAAWWWR! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" I'm so glad you enjoyed that sequence, Raoul. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" And I'm even happier to note that, unlike so many recent episodes, there's more where that came from. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" So, I guess I should just keep this going, then? "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Okay.

Deep within the lush coastal rainforests of southeastern South Dakota, Sad Bobby sits at his desk in the Emporium's study, poring over various leather-bound tomes while chugging voluminous amounts of whiskey straight from the bottle. "Atta girl!" Watching him from the far kitchen archway with worried expressions on their dear little faces are Our Intrepid Heroes and, after a moment, Darling Sammy hisses an urgent "Say something!" in Dashing El Deano's general direction. "You!" Dean soundlessly mouths back, thereby eliciting for himself the most massive of Sam's Massive Bitchfaces, and after a bit more of the whispered back and forth between the two of them, the boys resort to a rousing game of Rock-Paper-Scissors to settle their latest dispute. And in an ominous sign that Things Are Not Quite Right With Our Intrepid Heroes This Evening, Sam actually loses, even though Dim Dean's still obstinately throwing Scissors. Dun-dun-DUN!