Supernatural
The Mentalists

Episode Report Card
Demian: A | 5 USERS: A-
YOU GRADE IT
The Hardy Boys Are Still Talking About Dead Amy

Cynthia's enraptured by the display, but the minor pyrotechnics seem to knock the psychic off balance, and she stammers something about Uncle Danny not appreciating the question. Unfortunately, the angry brother will not be deterred, but as he snarls something about his missing inheritance, the fireplace behind them belches out a sudden burst of flame before an ill wind shoots down the flue to snuff out the blaze completely. And as Cynthia and her brother quickly descend into a bout of petty squabbling, utterly oblivious to the ominous goings-on around them, the psychic grows increasingly panicked and pivots sharply about in her chair as the lights continue to flicker around her head until the planchette on the Ouija board captures all their attention when it begins skittering about on its own. "Oh, my God!" Cynthia exclaims. "Danny?" The planchette darts quickly and decisively over to the NO. Dun-dun-DUN! A sudden and drastic chill envelops the room, and as the trio's breath streams visibly from their mouths, Cynthia finally realizes that there's something not quite right about this particular séance. "What's going on?" she gasps, but the psychic's far too busy with her own massive freak-out to answer, thank you very much, and she staggers to her feet in abject terror as the planchette spins itself around on the board and slowly levitates into the air.

The planchette turns until it's directed its sharpest point at the psychic, and barely has the psychic had a chance to open her mouth to scream when the thing flies across the room to embed itself in her carotid. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, writhing about in an absolute frenzy of delight atop his overstuffed armchair, and if you think the dear, dizzy lizard liked that bit, just wait for what comes next. A fresh gout of psychic's arterial spray paints the vast expanse of the angry gentleman's forehead red before the camera returns to the psychic to linger lovingly on the spurting gash in her neck as the poor woman crashes backwards onto her tasteful and now-ruined Oriental carpet. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" And as Cynthia unhinges her lower jaw to let her howls and wails echo throughout the tastefully appointed parlor, the camera focuses in on the crimson flood gushing from the psychic's fatal wound until the utterly awesome sight vanishes behind this evening's rudely appearing...

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