...SPLAT! "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" And while Raoul wriggles himself into a rapturous blur of unprecedented and ear-piercingly loud grue-induced euphoria over there on his overstuffed armchair thanks to that delightfully appalling and immensely gratifying opening sequence, I'll quietly skip ahead to the bit where...

...Darling Sammy, once again masquerading as a dapper federal agent, gingerly fingers the blood-encrusted valentine Russell and Alice left on her refrigerator door while he too-casually asks of Alice's freaked-out roommate, "So, you were the one who found the bodies?" "There was blood everywhere," the freaked-out roommate offers by way of response as she packs now-dead Alice's tchotchkes into boxes in the living room before pausing to add, "And... other stuff." "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Darling Sammy winces sympathetically as Freaked-Out Roomie continues, "I think Alice was already dead." "But Russell wasn't?" Sam prompts. Freaked-Out Roomie silently squirms around for an uncomfortable moment until she finally admits, "I think he was -- mostly -- except he was still sort of... chewing." "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" And now that Raoul's gone paralytic with bliss over this latest compelling development -- paralytic, I should note, save for a few involuntary spasms of pure, unadulterated joy -- I can safely ignore him for the next several minutes to deal with this week's necessary exposition. Long story short, and as you've probably guessed by now, Alice and Russell pretty much ate each other to death right there on the hastily scrubbed and therefore still-stained kitchen linoleum, but the really weird thing -- according to Freaked-Out Roomie, here, at least -- is that up until the evening of her untimely demise, Dead Alice had never once exhibited any sort of psychotic behavior at all. In fact, Alice was such a teetotalling, purity ring-sporting, Bible-thumping, goody-goody nice girl that her last evening with Dead Russell was her first date in months. "She was so excited," Freaked-Out Roomie mournfully reminisces. "Apparently," Darling Sammy Carusos, "they were both pretty excited." YEEAAAAHH!

Cut to this week's motel room, which is apparently part of an establishment named "Diamond Jack's," if that little stand-up flyer advertising this week's VALENTINES SPECIAL of FREE CHAMPAGNE next to Dashing El Deano's propped-up feet is anything to go by. Darling Sammy, rather uncharacteristically clutching a massive paper bag stuffed with fast food, lets himself in to give Dashing El Deano the bad news: Dead Alice's apartment contained no EMF and no signs of sulphur, so possession of either the ghostly or demonic variety is most likely out as far as explanations go for that delightfully appalling and immensely gratifying pre-credits sequence. Dean, for his part, has spent the morning making nice with the local constabulary, and has this to say about the no doubt wonderful experience: "Duuuuude! The coroner's? You didn't see these bodies -- I mean, these two started eating and they just...kept going. I mean, their stomachs were full -- like, Thanksgiving dinner full." Raoul, still in the throes of his rhapsodic swoon, lifts his impressively fanged maw long enough to shriek, "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" at this unexpectedly vivid bit of added detail before lapsing back into near-catatonic jubilation, leaving me pretty much alone once more with Our Intrepid Heroes as Darling Sammy sighs to himself for a bit over how fruitless their investigation has been thus far until he settles in for a solitary evening of satisfying research while at the same time granting Dashing El Deano permission to "unleash The Kraken." Hee. Dean's all, "Whaaaaaaa?" so Sam's forced to elaborate by reminding his brother that it's Valentine's Day -- also known to Dirty El Deano as "Unattached Drifter Christmas" -- which is Dean's penis's favorite holiday for what I hope are obvious reasons. Rather uncharacteristically, Dean's Penis passes on the opportunity to stalk its prey through cocktail lounge after cocktail lounge filled with lonely women. Darling Sammy, visibly perplexed, affixes Dean with The Super-Special Puppy-Dog Eyes Of Heartfelt Fraternal Concern to note rather appropriately, "When a dog doesn't eat? That's when you know something's really wrong." "Remarkably patronizing concern," Dean shoots back and, after insisting he's completely fine, the improbable celibate settles in for some satisfying research of his own.