In any event, Susan The Kiddie-Incinerating Nutbag actually embraces her schizophrenia, thank you very much, and even takes a moment to wish her nonexistent uncrispified rugrat back to the cornfield from whence he emerged, but she continues to insist with ever-increasing amounts of wild-eyed insanity, "The monster? It is real!" Head Shrink, all but rolling his eyes at her, exposits that Dead Annie was The Kiddie-Incinerating Nutbag's roommate, and nods that Dead Annie's untimely demise touched everyone -- batshit and sane alike -- in the facility, but he suggests, "Perhaps it's easier for you to conjure up a monster than to face how tragic [Dead Annie's] suicide really was." "I can hear it at night in the walls!" Crazy Susan hyperventilates. "You have to believe me!" Head Shrink doesn't have to do jack as far as this lunatic is concerned, and he proves it by ripping off his reading glasses while leaning forward to emphasize, "Hey, Psycho Lady! There's no such thing as monsters!"
Cut to the monster. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeek!" shrieks Raoul, and ooops! My bad. It's just a photograph of Crazy Susan's crispy little ankle-biter in happier times. "Eeeeeeeeeeeeek!" Raoul shrieks yet again for, as I'm sure you'll all recall, your faithful recapper's faithful recapping companion has Issues with the preadolescent set. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEK!" And while Raoul shrivels his -- ahem -- sturdily constructed form into a quivering, shivering fetal position over there on his overstuffed armchair, Crazy Susan pets her demonic spawn's image with one perfectly manicured index finger for a moment until an off-screen orderly yells, "Lights out!" With that, the dismal overhead fluorescents flicker off, leaving Crazy Susan alone in the dark, where she cowers against the wall atop her undisturbed bedding, drawing her knees up against her chest in terrified anticipation of what's to come. Almost immediately, something skitters through the ventilation shaft overhead, and Crazy Susan -- idiot that she is at this moment -- rises from her protective crouch to pick her barefoot way across the linoleum until she's positioned herself right beneath the ventilation shaft's grate, whereupon she proceeds to gawp up, wide-eyed, as The Thing That's About To Kill Her Stupid Crazy Ass slowly and teasingly loosens the screws fastening the grate to the ceiling. What a dumbass.
Booby Hatch Hallway. Evidently, Stupid Crazy Susan's finally found her voice, for she's now screaming a "Help meeeeeeee!" that manages to reach the nurses' station at the far end of the hall. Unfortunately for Stupid Crazy Susan, however, her shouts of entirely sane horror trigger similar shouts of entirely unhinged horror from her fellow inmates, and the resulting cacophony elicits little more than a dismissive "They're starting early tonight!" from some seen-it-all femullet behind the desk.
Meanwhile, Stupid Crazy Susan's futilely attempted to hide her stupid crazy-ass self behind an institutional-grade nightstand as loosened screw after loosened screw drops from the grate above. Eventually, she hurls herself against her locked door to fog the tiny square of safety glass with her now-neverending howls of panic, in the process drawing the sympathetically panicked attentions of this tantalizingly scruffy bit of baggy-eyed batshit across the way. And as her inappropriately attractive companion in dementia stares helplessly at her from the far side of his own locked door, Stupid Crazy Susan screams and screams and screams and...
...silence? "Phooey!" Ah, but wait just one more moment, my remarkably recovered friend. "Whatever for!?" Because The BlasÃ© Femullet's finally arrived at Crazy Susan's door and, under the apprehensive and still-baggy eyes of the inappropriately attractive bit of scruff across the way, she slowly swings open the thing to reveal... "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" For yes, gentle reader, Stupid Crazy Susan is now Stupid Dead Susan, her rapidly cooling corpse stretched across the linoleum amidst an ever-expanding pool of its own blood, which still oozes from Stupid Dead Susan's luridly slashed wrists. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" The camera lingers on Stupid Dead Susan's now-glassy eyes for a very long moment before leaping upwards to spin around into the...
...SPLAT! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" shrieks Raoul, once again writhing about his overstuffed armchair with delight over the fifth season's endlessly compelling blood-burst of a title card, and as it just took me three pages to cover three minutes of episode, I'll be letting him writhe about like that for a little while longer in favor of rejoining the action. "Hey!"
The camera fades up on the exact same establishing shot they used to represent The Glenwood Springs Psychiatric Hospital in Ketchum, Oklahoma, at the top of the episode, but this time around, they allow us all a mere second or so to examine the stately and fog-enshrouded grounds for any suspicious paranormal activity before the camera hops inside to land upon the confidential patient file for one "Alex Van Halen," and this confidential patient file must be from the future, because it's telling me that both Alex and his brother, "Edward," have already been admitted to Glenwood Springs "for treatment of various psychoses." So much for the very amusing interview scene that follows, I guess. Next!
Kidding. Well, sort of, because now that Sammy van Halen's confidential patient file's already informed us of their institutionalization, there seems little point in me leading you through the extremely entertaining scene that follows. Which is a shame, because it's probably the simplest set up and execution of a genuinely funny joke this series has seen in a very long time. Our Intrepid Heroes' objective? To get themselves committed, for whatever mysterious reasons yet to be revealed. Their method? Offering Head Shrink the unvarnished, absolute, unadorned, 100%-pure truth about The Apocalypse and their roles in same. It works like a charm. Hee. Also: Awesome.
"Doctor Fuller would like to keep you both under observation for a couple of days," a perky admitting nurse grins as she leads Our Dear Boys down the hall towards an examination room. Dean plays dumb for a moment before sneaking a smirk of conspiratorial triumph at his overlarge hairy freak of a younger brother, and the next thing we know, the perky nurse is wrapping a pressure cuff around Dean's bare upper arm to commence with his "little check-up." For some reason -- likely because the script tells him to do so -- Dean takes umbrage at the perky nurse's ministrations and grunts, "Look, Nurse Ratched, let's get one thing straight: I've seen Cuckoo's Nest, so don't try any of that soul-crushing, authoritarian crap on me, hmmm?" Her response? "Okey-dokey!" Heh. This naturally mollifies Dean, and the shot cuts from his pretty and prettily animated mug to the perky nurse stripping the pressure cuff from Sam's bare upper arm, after which she smiles, "All right! You can go ahead and take down your pants!" "Dirty!" shrieks Raoul, a faux-appalled yet perfectly honed paw reaching for his nonexistent pearls whilst he stifles an urge to titter like the blushing schoolgirl he, in his secret heart of hearts, actually is. Jealous, my scaly friend? "Who wouldn't be, I'm sure!" Spoken like the truly lecherous lizard you are. "Tee!" In any event, Darling Sammy involuntarily unleashes The Super-Special Puppy-Dog Eyes Of Brrrrrrow? and splutters, "Wh-wh-what for?" The perky admitting nurse sassily snaps a latex glove onto her right hand while wiggling her eyebrows at him, and we'll be ignoring that Nurse Ratched crap of Dashing El Deano's and be calling h