Immediately afterwards, we land in the nuthouse's dayroom with the boys, who are now clad in little more than t-shirts and scrub pants, the scant attire in which they will remain for the rest of the episode. There is a God. "Hallelujah!" I'll let that outburst of yours slide, Raoul, but only because I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment. "Praise Jesus!" Oh, for Christ's sake. "I feel the spirit!" If he puts on his church hat... "My soul says yes!" ...I am walking away from this recap and never coming back. "Speak to me, Lord!" YOU CAN STOP ANYTIME YOU FEEL LIKE IT, RAOUL. "Ooops! Sorry! Hee!" "How was your Silkwood shower?" Dean opens -- rather appropriately, if you ask me, given the fact that sitting next to Raoul while the dizzy lizard's getting his God on is an experience quite similar in levels of unpleasantness. "Hey!" Oh, cram it.
Now, where the hell was I? Oh, yes: Darling Sammy gamely bright-sides something enthusiastic-sounding about the excellent water pressure before delicately inquiring, "Did the nurse...?" "She was very thorough," Dean hastily replies, vigorously nodding his head, and Our Intrepid Heroes "Yip-yip-yip!" at each other in agreement regarding Nurse Diesel's thoroughness for a very long period of time until Dean finally settles into this evening's necessary exposition. Long story short, at Sam's insistence, they got themselves thrown into the loony bin as a favor for one of their worthless bastard of a so-called father's old hunting buddies -- a fellow named Martin who apparently hasn't been the same since some never-explained incident in Albuquerque -- and after a pointless exchange involving how well Dean is not dealing with the spectacularly explosive demise of The Harvelle Girls, Our Dear Boys amble over to a relatively secluded corner of the dayroom to chat with this Martin person, and they find themselves face-to-face with Uncle Rico. "Who?!" Never mind. "Okay!" Anyway, Uncle Martin, while acknowledging he's devolved into little more than "a bag of loose screws" over the last couple of years since he committed himself, nevertheless insists something supernatural's afoot at Glenwood Springs, as there have been five deaths amongst the inmates in the last four months, and although he himself hasn't caught a glimpse of the creature he believes is responsible, a few of the other whackjobs in the ward have. Dean, of course, questions the reliability of these whackjob witnesses, but Uncle Martin firmly vouches for each and every one of them, so Sam swiftly moves on to the next order of business. "Have you checked any of the bodies?" he asks. "Found signs of an attack?" Uncle Martin blanches, blinks, and eventually stutters that he d-d-doesn't g-g-go around d-d-dead b-b-bodies anymore. He'd elaborate, I'm sure, were it not for the fact that Head Shrink bumbles in on the conversation at this very instant to invite "Alex" and "Mr. Creaser" to that morning's group therapy session. Sam and Uncle Martin obligingly rise from their teeny table to comply with Head Shrink's request, but when Dean also rises to tag along, Head Shrink bodily blocks his path to smile, "Actually, I'm going to be putting you in the afternoon group." Dean: "Buh?" Head Shrink: "Well, to be frank, the relationship that you have with your brother seems...dangerously codependent. I think a little time apart would do you both good." HA! I'd tell Head Shrink to preach it, but I'm afraid Raoul might use that as an excuse to slap on yet another of his church hats and start speaking in tongues. "ULULULULULULULULULULULULU!" Crap.