Rattle, Rattle WE DON'T GIVE A SHIT ANYMORE THEN! As you'll no doubt recall, Bobby dropped dead after taking a bullet to the brain courtesy of lead Leviathan Richard Roman, and his unquiet and aggressively hirsute spirit is likely roaming the earth even as I type this. Meanwhile, Darling Sammy wouldn't shut the hell up about stupid Dead Amy already, and at some point during this seemingly neverending season, Dashing El Deano turned into a whiny little bitch who occasionally flashes a creepy, dead-eyed smile, just so he can freak us all the hell out.
In far more important news: Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon is missing. Yes, missing. When last I heard from him, he was going bowling, but that was three whole weeks ago, and I've seen neither scale nor claw of him since. And to be honest with you, I'm more than a little worried. Sure, he's taken it upon himself to vanish with no explanation before, but he never stayed away longer than a couple of days, and besides, all of those disappearances ended up being tied to the brief (but passionate) affairs he's been known to dally in from time to time with various of the charming locals here in Brooklyn, New York. That can't be the case this time, because that dizzy lizard is utterly incapable of maintaining a romantic relationship for longer than thirty-six hours, max, so I don't know what to do. I tried putting up flyers, but the neighbors told me they were scaring the children, so I had to take them all down again. Naturally, I can't get the police to listen to me, either, but you know if he were a skinny blonde white woman instead of a tubby little green-scaled prehistoric killing machine, he'd have been all over goddamned Nancy Grace weeks ago. So, you know. I'm a little emotional right now. If any of you happen to see him, would you please tell the shrieky bastard to give me a call, at least?