Episode Report Card
Demian: D+ | 5 USERS: B
The Hardy Boys Meet Nancy Drew

In any event, the misguided tourists -- whose sole purpose, apparently, was to enter in those particular t-shirts, and I'm sure there's a better way to establish Harvelle's location, but then again, I don't particularly care -- are quickly dispatched towards the Arby's down the road, but before we can leap back into the action, the bar's phone rings. Repeatedly. Because Ellen and Jo are having a supremely pissy staring contest, and the first person to blink lands the unfortunate task of answering. Or something like that. Eventually, Ellen just rolls her eyes and strides over to snatch the receiver from the wall. While she's thus otherwise occupied, Jo waves a Manila folder around in the air while expositing, "Three weeks ago, a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment." After a bit of comic business playing upon Dean's reluctance to accept the Manila folder for fear of having her mother bite off his hand, Jo continues, "This girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years, six women have vanished, all from the same building, all young blondes." Dean's flipping through the folder's contents, the first of which is a map of Pennsylvania dotted with large black Xs I'm guessing represent the victims' hometowns, Scranton and Williamsport among them. Also, for the obsessive amongst you, one of the highlighted articles identifies the building's address as "224 Wallace Street," which apparently doesn't exist, but there you go. "It only happens every decade or two," Jo explains, "so cops never eyeballed a pattern. So we're either dealing with a very old serial killer, or..." "Who put this together," Dean interrupts, "Ash?" As a matter of fact, Jo did it all by herself. "Gotta admit," Sam interjects, "we hit the road for a lot less." "Good!" Ellen snorts, having slammed down the phone to rejoin them. "You like the case so much? You take it." Jo's all, "Ohmigod! Moooooom!" but Ellen shuts her up with a sharp, "Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough, and I won't lose you, too." Dean looks like he's thinking, "Awwwwk-waaaard!" while Captain Empathy almost starts sobbing like a little girl into his cape in the background. "I just won't," Ellen repeats, with a firmness that will brook no dissent. Jo blinks.

Cheap Trick -- or a reasonable facsimile thereof -- drums its way onto the soundtrack and hits the opening line of "Surrender" as the camera cuts away from Jo's disappointment for a little bit of car porn, followed by a large bit of city porn as we're treated to a gorgeous, lingering shot of Philadelphia's skyline, this time from the vantage point of the Museum, the camera pointed down the Benjamin Franklin Parkway towards City Hall in the distance, with the Washington Monument in Eakins Oval in the foreground. Too bad Philly's such a fucking pit in real life. In any event, we at last land on Metallicar cooling its jets in front of the warehouse rehab at 224 Wallace Street from earlier, and up on the third floor, Sam and Dean pick the lock to the front unit. Once inside, the boys chat about "snaking Jo's case" as they retrieve EMF readers from their jacket pockets and start waving them around. After a bit, Sam's goes, "VWREEEE-yorp!" so gigantic, fifteen-foot-tall Jared Padalecki bends down to normal-people height to examine the electrical outlet that's still missing a faceplate, even though it's supposed to be one month after the apartment's previous occupant got her stupid skinny little ass eaten by copious amounts of demonic black ghost spooge. Whatever! Sam shoves one of his bare fingers into the remaining ghost spooge he finds clinging to the outlet, and then Dean shoves one of HIS goddamned bare fingers into the remaining ghost spooge clinging to the outlet, and this is the most disgusting scene I have had to endure on this program, ever! "Un-SANITARY! Raoul shrieks, even more appalled than I. "That's ectoplasm!" Dean gasps before noting, "Well, Sam, I think I know what we're dealing with, here." "A chronically lonely and hideously unsanitary ghost?" Raoul too-innocently asks, batting his eyelashes. "It's the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man!" Dean jokes. "My joke was better," Raoul sniffs. Perhaps, Raoul, but for some reason, your version makes that earlier scene with the eye-through-the-outlet seem more Porky's than Masters Of Horror, to the point where I'm expecting Beulah Balbricker to turn up at some point, demanding to examine the ghost's privates. Anyway, while Raoul and I have been jabbering on, Sam's gone on to note that demonic black ghost spooge is created only by "one majorly pissed-off spirit," and because Raoul and I are practically clawing at each other to make yet another tasteless masturbation joke out of that, I'll be referring to the demonic black ghost spooge for the rest of the evening by what Our Dear Boys would have us believe is its proper name, otherwise we'll never get through this. So, ectoplasm. "Eccchtoplasm's more like it. I bet his bed sheets are positively stiff." Stop it, Raoul! "Sorry! ...Not." ANY-way, Our Intrepid Heroes vow to "find this badass before he snags any more girls," and make their way into the hallway, where they find...

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