In any event, the camera returns to Sam and Dean to find the boys still flailing about atop their mattress until a publicist drags Sam off to one side while a makeup artist directs Dean to a nearby table so she can clean his face. Dean, of course, insists he's not wearing any makeup. The makeup artist presents him with evidence to the contrary, which she has just collected on a moist towelette. "I'm a painted whore!" Dean realizes, and really, Dean? "A painted whore"? Really?

Meanwhile, over in another corner of the set, the publicist interviews Sam, basically asking him what could possibly be left for his character after he already defeated Satan and saved his own soul. Sam -- wait for it -- flails.

Sometime later, the boys meet up again and, after Dean bitches about his makeup some more -- just to make sure we all know he's not down with that sort of faggoty bullshit at all, I suppose -- Super-Smart Sammy announces that he's pretty much figured everything out: For whatever reason, Belthazor zapped Our Intrepid Heroes into an alternate reality in which their real-world lives have become fodder for an extremely low-rated TV show, and Dean and Sam are merely actors known as "Jensen Ackles" and "Jared Padalecki." "So, what, now you're Polish?" Dean spits. "Does any of this make any sense to you?" he continues as they wander off the soundstage and onto the lot where, much to his visible distress, they find multiple copies of the Impala scattered about, each in varying stages of decay. "I feel sick," Dean moans, confused and distraught. Join the club, sweetie.

"I wanna go home," he whines as the two hustle their collective way through another section of the lot. "I feel like this whole place is bad-touching me." Sam takes a moment to agree with that particular sentiment, then attempts to shove the plot forward by suggesting they contact My Sweet Baboo for a consult. The boys duck into a handy alcove, and Dean gets as reverent as he possibly can while praying, "Dear Castiel, who art maybe running his ass away from Heaven, we pray that you have your ears on." And when that's done, they look off to one side to find a reasonable facsimile of My Sweet Baboo peering at them from across the way. Because they are idiots, Our Intrepid Morons immediately assume this reasonable facsimile is the real deal, despite the fact that they've already established they're on a film set of their lives, and despite the fact that this reasonable facsimile appears to be wearing clogs. "Cas?" Dean shouts, skittering on over to the reasonable facsimile with Sam hot on his heels. "What is all this, huh?" he demands. "What did Balthazar do to us?" The Clog-Shod Yet Otherwise Reasonable Facsimile Of My Sweet Baboo takes a blatantly actorly moment to compose himself, then intones, with much wiggling of his eyebrows, "To keep you out of Virgil's reach, he's cast you into an alternate reality -- a universe similar to ours in most respects, yet dramatically different in others." In case you haven't guessed, The Clog-Shod Yet Otherwise Reasonable Facsimile Of My Sweet Baboo thinks he's running lines for an upcoming scene with his co-stars, with the joke being that the supposedly scripted lines really are describing Sam and Dean's current dilemma. To that end, we learn that the key Belthazor handed Sam before he pimp-smacked the two of them into this alternate reality opens the room in which Belthazor stashed every weapon he swiped from Heaven's arsenal at the end of last season. The boys, naturally, are relieved to hear this, and next wonder what gives "with all this TV crap." The Clog-Shod Yet Otherwise Reasonable Facsimile Of My Sweet Baboo frowns at this, for "Jared" and "Jensen" have apparently gone off-script, and he breaks character to groan, "They put out new pages?" He whips out his sides and starts leafing through them until Dean snatches the paper from his hands and realizes, "These are words in a script!" "This isn't Cas!" Dean sneers after glancing at the sides. "His name is 'Misha'!" Dean shoves the paper back into "Misha's" chest, and the boys take off, with Dean grousing, "'Misha'? 'Jensen'? What's up with the names around here?" Hey! That's what I was just wondering! Well, sort of.