There follows an immensely entertaining little scene in which the boys arrive at the spot where Dean had parked the Impala, only to find the Impala gone. Dean starts stompy-clomping around on the sidewalk, raging at the utterly indifferent heavens over his apparently stolen baby, until he starts literally hyperventilating over the missing Metallicar, and hee! Conscientious Sam of course immediately speeds to his stricken brother's aid, but the cute moment shatters all to hell the instant that rawthah plummy accent I've come to know and hate chimes from off-screen, "A '67 Im-pah-lah? Was thet yaws?" Shoulder-shooting Bela and her scraggly hair and her overdone makeup and her ridiculous accent and her International Woman Of Mystery leather trench in brown and her...her...I FUCKING HATE HER. And she helps her cause not a bit when she reveals she had Metallicar towed. "KILL HER!" shrieks Raoul. "KILL THE ONE WHO WOULD ASSAULT THE IMPALA'S DIGNITY!" I couldn't agree with you more, my scaly friend, and as I simply will not be able to make it through this scene again because of her wretched presence in it, here's what I remember: Posh Bela's the Alex of whom Ms. "Gertie" Case spoke in the earlier scene, and good ol' Gertie's one of the pommy git's regular customers on the Eastern Seaboard's séance circuit, for you see, Posh Bela's not only cornered the black market in stolen supernatural goods, she's also been cheating little old ladies out of their pensions by performing fake summoning rituals so they might commune with their dearly departed. Such a charmer, this one is! And why are the boys still talking to her? "Because the script says so?!" Raoul helpfully suggests. Once again, I hate it when you're right, my faithful lizardly companion, because she needs to get off the fucking television screen, right fucking now. Oh, and look at that! She's gone. "They should have killed her first!" They're actually of a mind to, Raoul. "Can I shoot her?" Dean glowers once the British aggravation's out of earshot. "Not in public," Sam clenches. Oh, go ahead, Sam. After what she did to your shoulder, it's justifiable homicide.
Night. Over in an expensive-looking Frank Lloyd Wright knockoff of a mansion, a trim thirtysomething clad in nothing more than a set of pajama bottoms brushes his teeth up in one of the manse's capacious bathrooms, completely unaware of The Shadow Of Watery Doom that's just passed in front of the camera. A few tense strings hit the soundtrack just as this evening's next bit of Monster Chow hears the squeaking of a tap opening up behind him, and he turns to find the jacuzzi-style bathtub suddenly and inexplicably near to overflowing with brackish green water. Because he apparently missed the relevant first-season episode, the Monster Chow does not run screaming for his life from the room and instead foolishly chooses to kneel at the tub's side, first screwing shut the open taps, then tugging fruitlessly at the stopper. He next stupidly pauses for a very long moment, staring at his reflection in the murk below, so it's no surprise at all when a hand shoots up out of the water to latch onto his neck. The Monster Chow chokes and gags as deadly black veins burst out from his hairline to crawl down his forehead, and his oxygen-deprived face slowly turns a most foul shade of violet as his bulging eyes roll straight up into the METAL TEETH CHOMP! "BORING!" shrieks Raoul, feeling impossibly cheated at the moment. "Where is the GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!?" Not anywhere near this pathetic excuse for an episode, that's for damn sure.