Dean then spends a full ninety seconds of airtime wandering through empty corridors. "BOOOOORRRRIIIIIING!" shrieks Raoul. Finally, at very long last, Barry White's "Can't Get Enough Of Your Love, Babe" arrives on the soundtrack from a lecture hall elsewhere in the building, so fleet-footed El Deano spends another thirty seconds arriving there and opening the door to find the janitor's imaginary bimbo stripper whores lounging around upon a red, canopied bed beneath the twinkling lights of a disco ball atop the hall's stage, and I am not making any of this shit up. Lava lamps abound. The janitor's imaginary bimbo stripper whores stroke their thighs and such as El Deano warily makes his bow-legged way down the auditorium steps to the main floor, but in all honesty, absolutely nothing that's happening onscreen is of any importance at the moment, as this entire set-up's just an excuse to play some Barry White. Really. Trust me on this one. As Dean approaches the stage, the janitor's imaginary bimbo stripper whores crawl across the red velvet bedspread on their hands and knees to coo, "We've been waiting for you, Dean!" Dean, dazed with lust, splutters, "Y-y-you guys aren't real." "Trust me, sugar," The Janitor's Imaginary Brunette Bimbo Stripper Whore promises, "it's gonna feel real," and all of a sudden, I'm getting this bizarre pre-operative transsexual hooker vibe from El Deano and the janitor's imaginary bimbo stripper whores. Well, more from the latter than the former, but you know what I mean. "Come on," The Janitor's Imaginary Blonde Bimbo Stripper Whore simpers through gallons of collagen in her lips, inviting El Deano onto the bed. "Let us give you a massage." "You know," El Deano sighs, "I'm a sucker for a happy ending -- really, I am -- but I'm gonna have to pass," and I cannot believe that line made it past Standards And Practices. "FILTHY!" shrieks Raoul, burying his eyes in his paws in embarrassment for everyone involved with this production.
As the camera slobbers all over the janitor's imaginary bimbo stripper whores, the janitor himself calls out from the audience, "They're a peace offering!" and do you get it? 'Cause Dean apparently doesn't. Poor Dean. Poor dumb, slovenly, piggish, stupid, obstinate, bow-legged, wee little midget-of-a-man Dean. I do love him so. There follows an endless dialogue between Dean and his prey wherein they share a snicker or two over the Trickster's methods -- particularly the mortifyingly amusing slow-dancing alien the janitor conjured to torment the meathead jock frat-boy asshole -- before Dean vows to stop the janitor if it's the last thing he does. "Too bad," the Trickster sighs, "I liked you." "But Sam was right," he adds, with menace creeping into his voice, "you shouldn't have come alone." Psych! He didn't! For Sam and Bobby now appear on opposite sides of the auditorium clutching hefty wooden stakes. By the way, according to the accompanying article in The Weekly World News, those stakes are tipped with the blood of one of the Trickster's victims. You know, just so you're aware. Because there's sure as hell nothing in the episode itself that will ever inform you of that fact. Did we mention it was only thirty-eight minutes long? With at least two of those minutes devoted to following Dean through an empty building? Did we? "We did!" Good. Just wanted to make sure.