Crackle, crackle OH NO! I'm missing the THEN! No big loss, as once again, it featured no mullet rock. Long story short, Our Intrepid Heroes tracked one of Daddy Shut Up's saved voice mails to Harvelle's Bar And Grill, where they met Ellen The Awesome Broad and her spunky blonde daughter, Jo. "'Spunky' might not be the best choice of words," opines Raoul, The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, "given how distasteful certain bits of this evening's subject matter truly are." Is he threatening me?
Crackle, crackle NOW! From the black comes a helicopter shot of the Philadelphia skyline just after sunset that's subtly disorienting because of the helicopter's slight descent as it circles City Hall's tower. William Penn's inky silhouette drifts past the modern skyscrapers in the background of the shot as an appropriate location card materializes at the bottom of the screen. The Plaintive Yet Spooky Piano Of Some Whacked-Out Shit's About To Go Down In The City Of Brotherly Love tinkles on the soundtrack as the camera hops down into the cacophonous streets below to settle opposite the rather imposing faÃ§ade of a warehouse rehabbed into apartments for skinny little blonde yuppies too stupid to realize they can avoid at least part of the city's ludicrous 4.5% wage tax by moving across the river to Camden. The camera focuses in on the windows of the third floor's front unit, through which we can spy electric lights buzzing and blinking on and off. DUN! Inside, a skinny little blonde yuppie too stupid to move to Camden bitches, "I checked the fuses -- they're fine." Just as The Plaintive Yet Spooky Piano PING-PING-PING-PINGs, the blonde pissily adds, "It's the wiring! Look, you promised this place would be ready when I moved in!" As the electrical buzzing continues around her, the building's super apparently offers an unsatisfactory response. "No!" she snits. "You come up now!" "Oh, honey," Raoul croons to the supe, "you can just go right ahead and ignore her strident ass, because this little moron's going to be dead in about three seconds." Raoul, you see, has watched this program before, and so knows that skinny little blondes combined with unnaturally buzzing lamps always leads to death for one of the parties involved. Said party, needless to note, has yet to be a light fixture. The skinny little blonde too stupid to move to Camden who's going to be dead in about three seconds slams down the phone and spots a blotch of black goo on her Pottery Barn coffee table. Because she is a moron, she stretches out her hand to stick a finger in the crap, like, even if I didn't already know that was a puddle of ghost spooge, I still wouldn't just go poking my bare hand into a pile of black sludge, you disgusting woman! "It's unnecessarily rough on one's manicure as well," Raoul sniffs, eyeing the perfectly honed claws on his left paw, and I really don't want to ask how he knows that.