..."Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" The screen freezes on their faces as Dean's voice loudly protests, "Hold on a minute!" We've cut back to their rattrap of a hotel, where Dean continues, "C'mon, dude, that's not how it happened!" For yes, gentle reader, episode author and former X-Files producer John Shiban has conspired with The Kripkeeper to give Supernatural its very own version of his earlier show's "Bad Blood," in which Mulder and Scully each spent their respective halves of the evening offering the audience wildly different yet equally plausible versions of a single event, based upon their perceptions of themselves, each other, and themselves in relation to each other and their job.
Or, you know, it's Rashomon, but the damn kids these days don't seem to get references older than Dawson's Creek, so whatever. ["Having recapped the Dawson's version of exactly this kind of episode, I see your 'whatever' and raise you a 'Jesus, not again.'" -- Sars] What on earth are they teaching them in school?
In any event, there you have it: The structure for tonight's flashbacks. And, admittedly, there are many amusing moments to be had this evening, but unfortunately, neither the voices used for the characters nor the device itself are consistently presented -- they shouldn't, for example, have those flashes of the meathead jock frat boy asshole's slow dance with the alien, for one, nor should we get that scene of the Trickster cavorting with his whores, for another, nor should we have had the entire opening sequence, for a third, and there are flashbacks wherein the dominant brother's supposed perspective is nowhere to be found -- so the entire episode just ends up being one great, big, sloppy mess. "One great, big, sloppy, GORE-FREE mess!" Raoul corrects, rightfully outraged at the waste of his time. Then again, I can't chide the overexuberant posters on the boards for indulging in unnecessary overanalysis if I'm going to do the same here, so let's just write this one off as a complete throwaway filled with manly, masculine fun and get back to the recap proper, shall we? "Indeed!"
So, where was I before the tangent? Oh, yeah: Sam makes with the pissy face and demands, "You never drank a purple nurple?" "Maybe that," Dean allows, "but I don't say things like 'feisty little wildcat,' and her name wasn't Starla!" "Then what was it?" Sam challenges, shooting his eyebrows skyward while pursing his lips all, "You ill-mannered, slovenly, thoughtless knave!" Dean, of course, can't remember. "But," he insists, more to redeem himself in Bobby's eyes than anything else, "she was a classy chick!" "Grad student," he continues, shooting the loser who failed to secure an undergraduate degree a nasty side-eye, "in anthropology and folklore. We were talking about local ghost stories." The camera's been slowly tightening its focus in around El Deano's head during all of that, which can only mean one thing: FLASHBACK!