And when all that's over with, Emma too-casually mentions the fact that, while she can't offer them a specific address for The Vampire King's real lair, there are certain things she remembers about the place "that maybe can help" in pinpointing its location. We then enter this evening's second and most oddly-placed commercial break most woefully CHOMP!-less, after which we...

...return to the same damn place we just left. God, I hate this show. In any event, Our Idiot Morons plus Dead Bobby plus The Vampire King's Child Bride have all long since departed, apparently, and the sole surviving vampire returns from his animal hunt to find Leviathan Edgar waiting for him instead. "Where's your boss?" Leviathan Edgar demands. "Go to hell," the sole surviving vampire sasses, so Leviathan Edgar latches onto the sole surviving vampire's arm, morphs into sole surviving vampire form, and reads the sole surviving vampire's transferred thoughts to learn that The Vampire King's squirreled himself away deep within in the wild and tangled depths of Missoula, Montana. With that, Leviathan Edgar rips the sole surviving vampire's head off -- off-camera of course, because God forbid we have any fun at all tonight, ever -- and we shoot ahead to...

...some random supermarket somewhere else, the following morning. Dumbass El Deano bitches for a bit about the "rabbit food" he's been forced to eat as of late before Our Idiot Morons realize they'll be needing a bit of Dead Man's Blood if they hope to survive their intended encounter with The Vampire King. Well, Dead Man's Blood, or just a few syringes full of the toxic vampire poison now circulating through the veins of the entire local population, as Dumbass El Deano realizes when he spots some zonked-out, Slurpee-swigging lardass splayed across a nearby bench. The lardass, in fact, has been rendered so dazed and compliant by The Leviathans' fiendish high-fructose corn syrup that when Dimwit Sammy asks for a few milliliters of his blood, the lardass immediately and obediently holds out a fat-thickened arm. "This is for Hurricane Katrina?" the lardass wonders at one point while Dimwit Sammy draws his blood, and I'll be letting you good people decide if that's an authentic shout-out or not. Of course, while Dimwit Sammy proceeds to bleed the lardass dry, Our Idiot Morons chit-chat some more about Dead Bobby's current mental state, and I pretty much tune everything out until a Walsh County Sheriff's Department cruiser turns into the supermarket's parking lot, with the doughnut-munching cop behind the wheel blasting War's "Why Can't We Be Friends?" through the prowler's speakers. It's a hell of a lot funnier than it has any right to be, especially when the cop starts tooting his siren along in time with the music, but alas, this episode's sole entertaining moment passes almost as quickly as it appeared, and before we know it, we've leapt forward again to...