And wouldn't you know it? Just when the two freshly downsized gents settle down to chit-chat about possible future opportunities, a mighty disturbance from above unleashes a shock wave that sets the entire bar to shaking. "Earthquake?" gulps Poor Doomed Stuart, suddenly wide-eyed with panic. "Nah," Zachariah wearily sighs as a bright white light opens up through the skylight above his head. "My boss," Zachariah shrugs, casually tossing back his just-delivered cocktail as the piercing whine heralding his boss's arrival rapidly amplifies in volume to overwhelm both Poor Doomed Stuart and the entirely blameless bartender -- like, leave the bar staff out of this, dicks -- and as the two humans start hopping around in gape-mouthed agony with their balled-up fists desperately and uselessly pressed against their bleeding ears, every single piece of glass in this dingy little joint explodes to fill the air with whickering shards of glittery death. "VIOLENCE!" shrieks Raoul, predictably offering his vociferous approval for this splintery development, and did I mention that they just killed all of the booze in the process, hon? "DEATH!" Raoul howls, instantly trading allegiance as well he should. "DEATH TO THOSE WHO WOULD KILL THE BOOZE!" All in good time, Raoul. All in good time. "Ooops! Spoiler?!" Well, you know. Sort of. "Hee! [Slurp!]"

Now, where was I? Oh, yes: As Poor Doomed Stuart's eyes burst into flame right there in his screechy little skull, and as the similarly afflicted bartender flops to the sticky floor mats, dead, Zachariah calmly spreads his arms open beneath that horrible white light, all, "Come on! I've been waiting for this! Smite me!" Fortunately for those of us who appreciate Zachariah's smarmily sadistic presence on this show, The Piercing Whine's not there to smite him, but rather to deliver a message that I'm supposing goes a bit like this: "We're switching to Plan B, so get your ass back up here." "You won't regret it!" a delighted Zachariah shouts back. "Thank you!" And with that, The Piercing Whine retreats, leaving Zachariah alone with the now most thoroughly deceased Stuart to exult, "Back in business, boys!" before heading for the exit, merrily singing a few bars from "When The Saints Go Marching In" as Dead Stuart's seared-out eye sockets smolder and sizzle and...

...SPLAT! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" shrieks Raoul, once more writhing about upon his overstuffed armchair with delight over the fifth season's endlessly compelling blood-burst of a title card, and have you anything to add at this juncture, my faithful lizardly companion? "I do not!" Excellent. Then I shall jump ahead to...