Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter THEN! Something sprang Darling Sammy out of Hell over a year ago, but because Darling Sammy didn't bother to inform Dashing El Deano of his return topside until the season premiere, Dashing El Deano worked his big-boy man-panties into a tremendous wad and yelled at everyone, after which Bendy Lisa told him to take a hike, so Dashing El Deano yanked Metallicar out of storage and hit the road. Also, as you'll no doubt recall, My Sweet Baboo had rather a complicated relationship with The Archangel Raphael -- the latter of whom, when last we saw him, was trapped for all eternity in a flaming circle of holy oil. Or, you know, until he mojo'd that rattrap they'd left him in to the ground, after which he could presumably have clambered over the wreckage to freedom. Your choice. And at the end of last season, after the abortive Apocalypse, Castiel fluttered back up to Heaven to kick truculent angelic ass now and take traitorous angelic names later, for My Sweet Baboo is, at heart, one mean motherfucker.
Rattle, Rattle Tacky Blue Glitter NOW! Cop Shop Locker Room. As one surely imperiled officer of the law ambles on in from the outside to fetch his jacket, his equally imperiled partner loiters at the sinks, rinsing his face one last time before heading out for that evening's shift. Unfortunately for The Imperiled Partner, his careful ablutions seem to have opened up a pair of shaving nicks on either side of his face, and -- even more unfortunately for The Imperiled Partner -- when he lifts his fingers to apply pressure to the cut on his right, his hand basically turns into a Spanish Tickler, and he strips a four-inch slice of fresh meat from his cheek. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, writhing about atop his overstuffed armchair with amounts of delight both copious and profuse, so gleeful is he to receive so much of the good stuff so early in the episode. "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" The Soon-To-Be-Dead Partner allows that initial clump of bloody, mangled flesh to slop wetly onto the porcelain below before whispering a panicked, "What the Hell?" at his reflection and backing away from the mirror with a couple of slow and horrified steps made even slower and more horrific by the fact that he appears to be leaving the soles of his feet behind him. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Meanwhile, some grue-filled abscess on his back chooses this very moment to erupt, and now a positive river of blood is coursing down the back of his white t-shirt. "GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" Honey, at least try to take a breath -- you're going to pass out. Again. "I can't help it!" shrieks Raoul. "It's just...! It's so...! It makes me...! GOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!"