Supernatural
Survival Of The Fittest

Episode Report Card
Demian: C- | 9 USERS: B-
YOU GRADE IT
They Should Have Cancelled The Hardy Boys Years Ago

Rattle, Rattle WE DON'T GIVE A SHIT ANYMORE THEN! As expected, this season's final THEN! has been set to the overfamiliar strains of Kansas's "Wayward Son," and despite the angry promise I made on the forum boards, I did not, in fact, choke a bitch when this sequence originally aired last Friday -- partly because the only bitch available at the time just happened to be a certain dear old friend of the dragonly persuasion, but mainly because I was too bored to move. And why is that, I'm sure I hear you ask? Because over the course of the full two minutes of screentime this montage proceeds to chew up, the people responsible for the ungodly mess this show has become do little more than remind us of certain key events and characters from the last couple of episodes, which only serves to reinforce the sad idea I've been harboring that the majority of this season was little more than a complete waste of my time. Sigh. They do include a few entirely unnecessary vignettes from what ended up being my favorite episodes this year, so that's nice, but the rest of it? Whatever.

Rattle, Rattle STILL NOT GIVING A SHIT NOW! As has been its wont as of late, the NOW! creeps forward for a bit before dissolving into a blackness in which we linger for far too long until the camera finally fades up on the interior of Richard Roman's tackily-appointed office deep within SucroCorp's world headquarters in Seattle, which is exactly where we left off at the end of last week's installment. Crowley, temporarily fixed in place thanks to that massive Devil's Trap in the ceiling, slumps himself into a handy chair while his host quite generously pours them a couple of cocktails and, after a few preliminaries, the two settle in to chat. And chat. And chat and chat and chat and chat and chat, and long story short, Richard Roman proposes a deal: Should Crowley provide Our Intrepid Heroes with a vial of blood from "one sadly unimpressive demon in New Jersey," thereby rendering This Year's Unnecessarily Complicated Ultimate Weapon useless, The Leviathans will grant Crowley and his demonic horde free reign over Canada and its exceptionally polite inhabitants until the end of time. Crowley thinks that one over for a moment, then announces, "You have a deal." An incredibly stupid deal, but there you go. "I suppose you want it in writing?" Crowley asks. "I don't kiss on the mouth," Richard Roman smirks by way of reply, so Crowley magically whips a "standard rider" out of his jacket pocket and unfurls the massively lengthy scroll across the office's carpeting. "I do so like this part," Crowley teases as Richard Roman tosses a fairly irritated side-eye at all of the paperwork involved. "Don't you?" No comment. And with that, both of these extremely talkative gentlemen vanish into...

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Supernatural

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