And as if to justify that DUN!, the owner's scream of horror hits Not Maya's ears at this very instant from the main floor below. With the camera, we jump ahead of the creepy little girl to peer down from the second-floor gallery at the foyer below, through the foyer's chandelier. The owner's picking her way through an unruly mass of toys scattered across the carpet while frantically babbling into her cordless, "Are you there? Yes, you have to send someone over right now!" The camera untangles itself from the chandelier to settle a little lower over the scene, so we might now spot the pool of blood slowly expanding across the parquet from the rotund driver's twisted form at the bottom of the stairs, just as Not Maya arrives on the gallery to goggle at the scene below. "Tyler, don't look!" the owner shakily pleads before returning her attention to the 911 call. The camera slides into a low-level pan across the toys on the main floor until it sweeps past the rotund driver's rapidly cooling corpse. Ooops! My bad, 'cause he's not dead yet! Yes, the wide-eyed driver, despite having his head wrenched all the way around on his neck by his apparent fall down the stairs is still working his gaping mouth like a landed trout. Ew! "I can even see the shattered vertebrae poking through the skin!" shrieks Raoul, clapping his paws together with delight. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" The camera leaps back up to Tyler's unexpectedly impassive expression before returning to crawl past the soon-to-be-dead fat guy and linger on yet another antique porcelain doll lying flat on its back at the guy's mangled side. A spider's web of cracks runs across the doll's blank face, likely due to its impact with the floorboards. The rapidly expanding pool of blood crosses the parquet to soak the doll's white shirt right before everything gets gobbled up by the METAL TEETH CHOMP!
RAAAWWWR! "Eeeeeeeeeeeee! God help me, but I still love that title sequence, even after all these months." You and me both, Raoul. You and me both.
An old blues song hits the soundtrack as a print-out of a computerized map of the Midwest fades up on the screen, followed by the words "Peoria, Illinois." Someone's inserted pushpins into various locations on the map, nailing scraps of paper containing the names of The Ceiling Demon's extra-special mommy-free and -having children to certain cities, including Lafayette for Scott, Peoria for Ava, Lawrence for Sam -- who has a star next to his name, because he's super special -- and Guthrie for Andy. Lengths of string connect the pins in differing configurations, and it's all very Heroes of them, but that's not the point. No, the point is the massive production error also pinned to the map. Yes, someone in the props department completely fucked up Ava Wilson's "Missing" poster, for rather than having it issued by the Peoria Police Department, the thing's headed "Lafayette Metro Police" and reads in part, "Ava Wilson was last seen at her home in Lafayette, Indiana." WRONG. But we'll gloss over that to join Darling Sammy, who's on his cell in the brothers' latest motel room, finishing up a chat with Ellen back at Harvelle's just as Dean arrives from the outdoors with a couple of cups of coffee. Long story short, in the last month -- yes, "month," as Sam notes later in the conversation that follows -- neither Sam nor Dean nor Ellen have learned anything regarding Ava's mysterious disappearance, but Ellen does pass along a bit of information regarding "two freak accidents in the last three weeks" in a hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut. In the first, "a lady drowned in the bathtub," and in the second, well, we just saw the second, now didn't we? By the way, I'd link to an image of The Shining's Drowned Lady In A Bathtub, but I'm afraid they're a bit too graphic. "Oh, for heaven's sake!" Raoul interjects. "They're not babies! Here. Looks like someone could do with a nice little seaweed wrap and a facial!" Um. Thanks, Raoul. Yeesh. Now, where the hell was I?