This week's entirely awesome episode begins with Our Intrepid Heroes investigating your run-of-the-mill haunting in -- of all places -- a comic book store, but when The Comic Book Guy immediately accuses them of something incredibly distasteful known as "LARPing," which I never needed to know existed, ever, the boys put the kibosh on the ghost hunt in favor of immersing themselves in the fandom surrounding a series of novels called Supernatural, which happen to include every single detail of their lives from Seasons One through Three, up to and including that fabulously stupid racist truck, those hideously stupid racist bugs (complete with Insta-Dawn!, I'm sure), the unfortunately aerated (but not noticeably racist) Madison, and the reason Dashing El Deano's racist against dogs (including, presumably, Madison).
Seems an alcoholic, shut-in hack named Chuck Shirley [Felicity's Richard) -- who lives in Kripke's Hollow, naturally -- has been on the receiving end of four years' worth of painful visions that he funneled into his fiction, and while the Supernatural book series was cancelled right after its Dean went to Hell, Chuck continued to labor away on new titles, including the latest, which includes the details of this very episode, as this episode is airing. A great, big, meta mind-fuck of truly epic proportions, I hear you say? It is, indeed, but it gets brilliantly tied into this season's overarching storyline when My Sweet Baboo pops up to announce that Chuck is actually A Prophet Of The Lord, and that the Supernatural book series is destined one day to become "The Winchester Gospels." Did I mention how awesome this episode is?
In any event, startling revelations aside, the main plot involves Our Dear Boys contorting themselves into a variety of extremely amusing shapes in failed attempt after failed attempt to prevent Chuck's latest prophecies from coming true, leading up to the return of an adult Lilith, who makes Darling Sammy an offer he can't refuse: She'll call off The Apocalypse if he and his brother agree to die. Just as Sam's about to seal the deal [In all senses of the word! - Z], Dashing El Deano arrives with our freshly minted Prophet and said Prophet's avenging guardian archangel to drive Lilith out of town, so that whole saving-of-all-Creation thing is going to have to wait another week or two. Or, you know, until May sweeps. Whichever comes later. Damn you, Kripke!
Rattle, Rattle WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE!" shrieks Raoul The Big Gay Supernatural Dragon, jumping the gun considerably and now feeling quite the fool, given that he's writhing about upon his overstuffed armchair with delight over nothing more than a flock of twittering birds. "Oh, I am ashamed!" Raoul shrieks, blushing furiously. "However! In my defense, you did startle me with that most unusual outburst of yours!" My apologies, friend of friends, but I was quite startled myself, for they've skipped the BLOOD-RED THEN! this evening. "Entirely?!" Indeed. "How rude!" Well, to be honest with you, Raoul, skipping the THEN!'s nothing compared to everything else they skipped this evening, if you understand my meaning. "I do not!" Then follow along, my impressively fanged companion, and you shall learn all. "Thanks! I can't wait to see what this charming little Thursday-evening divertissement has in store for us tonight!" Oh, they're just going to break your poor little heart, aren't they? I'll get the Kleenex ready.
There. Now, where the hell was I? Oh, yeah: This THEN!-less introductory segment, during which the camera's risen on the interior of a darkened and absolutely tragic bachelor pad as a flock of incongruously joyful songbirds twitter somewhere outside the house. The camera hoists itself over the back of the sofa to take in the pad's apparent owner, dead to the world, clad in little more than some plaid boxer shorts and a stripey robe with his face all unshorn, and as I apparently attended college with this actor back in the day, it wouldn't surprise me in the least to learn this is not the first time I've actually seen the guy dead to the world, clad in little more than plaid boxer shorts and a stripey robe with his face all unshorn, but that's neither here nor there at the moment, for we must join this unconscious slob as he's...flung into a vision of this evening's events! Well, a few of this evening's events, actually, and some of them run in reverse so that the last shot in this guy's head is actually the first shot of the episode proper, so I do believe it's time for all of you to shut the hell up for the...
...Nonexistent NOW! The NOW! enjoys its week off, I'm sure, getting trashed at a bar somewhere with the THEN! and the -- spoiler! -- RAAAWWWR! as some geek sporting a Star Wars tee beneath his open Hawaiian shirt browses through the fantasy section of a comic book store somewhere, and the camera swings around the inordinately pleased expression on the geek's face before throwing its focus on the shop's front door, through which Our Intrepid Heroes enter at this very moment.