Down in the ballroom, The Prophet's regaling his by-now-thoroughly-bored audience with the sordid tale of his lost virginity -- the next day at school, his girlfriend told everyone "it didn't count" -- when the desk clerk from earlier rises to leave. Chuck screams at the guy not to open the door, but the desk clerk just rolls his eyes and continues on his merry way, of course breaking the thick line of salt Our Intrepid Heroes had so thoughtfully laid down before the last commercial break, in the process summoning one of the murderous little brats, who now smilingly menaces the desk clerk with his knife. Chuck, thinking fast -- and for some reason accompanied by that familiar ch-ch-ch-cha! sound cue from The Six Million Dollar Man -- upends his mike stand and, charging the back of the ballroom, rips the cast-iron base of the thing through the little beastie's body. The Hell-sent moppet instantly dissolves into a gigantic spray of gooey ghost bits, but more importantly, Becky The Wincesting Fangirl's panties have instantly dissolved into a gigantic spray of... "Demian, please!" What? "I just ate!" Ah. My profuse apologies, friend of friends, but you should know that Becky The Wincesting Fangirl is now just as smitten with The Prophet Chuck as she had been with Darling Sammy and his remarkably healthy chest, if not more so. "Okay!" And just as Chuck orders the LARPing fanboys to resalt the ballroom doors...

...Our Intrepid Heroes find themselves uncomfortably face-to-face with the other two murderous moppets just as...

...Blubber and The Brain prepare to torch the hastily assembled remains of all the brats involved. One problem: Blubber's nowhere near as adept as Dashing El Deano at firing up a Zippo. "How come Dean can always light the stupid thing on the first freaking try?" he howls, thwarted. And just as The Brain artfully twists his mouth into a series of increasingly frantic curlicues...