Supernatural
Season 7, Time For A Wedding!

Episode Report Card
Demian: F | 9 USERS: B-
YOU GRADE IT
The Hardy Boys Are Overstaying Their Welcome

And speaking of that cunning little vacation cabin nestled away on the tranquil shores of scenic Loon Lake, we arrive back at same to find Batshit Becky dejectedly slouching her way through the door, fresh from her sit-down with Gay Guy. She mopes her way back to the bedroom, where Sam is of course still bound and gagged, and she launches herself into a mournful explanation of her motives and justifications that takes up a full three minutes of screen time. And, you know, credit where credit is due: Emily Perkins does her damn best to sell the hell out of the garbage they've given her to deliver during all of this. Unfortunately for her, it still reeks. Long story short, her grand plan to triumph at her high school reunion with Darling Sammy on her arm has fallen to ruin, and she's now more convinced than ever that she's nothing more than a desperate loser, fated to stagger through life forever alone. Or something like that. She carefully withdraws the latest vial of Gay Guy's magical elixir from her jacket pocket, and stares at it for a very long time. "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Exactly.

The Only Restaurant In Town. Batshit Becky's driven all the way back there for whatever asinine reason, and she now sits by herself at one of the otherwise deserted tables, sipping on a bourbon, neat, as Gay Guy's cater-waiter minions break down what remains of the reunion around her. "Becks!" Gay Guy calls out. "You missed the party!" "Yeah, well," Becky pouts. "Weird night." "So, what are we thinking?" Gay Guy prompts. Becky takes a long moment alone with her cocktail, then grits her teeth and declares, "I'm in." DUN! Well, maybe. To be honest with you, I can't remember a thing about her part in the hijinks that follow this evening's next CHOMP!-less commercial break, even though this episode aired less than two days ago, but I'm pretty sure we're at least meant to believe that her gritty declaration warrants a DUN! "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Yes, Raoul, of course I'm aware of the fact that her gritty declaration actually warrants nothing more than a long, loud snore, but work with me, here, okay? "ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!" Oh, whatever.

The Only Restaurant In Town. Immediate aftermath. Batshit Becky rises from her lonely chair to seal the deal with the customary kiss, but at the very last instant, she...whips out a Zippo and sets fire to the carpeting? The hell? Oh, I see: She'd actually dumped a bottle of Stoli Blueberi onto the floor in the shape of a booze-soaked Devil's Trap, and her Zippo ignited a racing trail of badly CGI'd flame that's now ensnared Gay Guy right there where he stands. Batshit Becky races to the just-appearing Sam's side to shriek about her awesome levels of awesomeness, or something, but all it takes is one eminently condescending bitchface from her would-be paramour to send her skittering into the shadows. Dean and the eternally useless DJ Qualls step forward to join Sam, with Dean drawing the long-absent Knife That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't from his jacket pocket to carve Gay Guy's borrowed spleen right out of its demonically enhanced body.

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Supernatural

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