"Chicago." Deliberate El Deano carefully tiptoes through the pizzeria's alleyway entrance and scans the restaurant interior to find...nearly a dozen corpses! "EEEEEEEEEEEEE!" None of which have visible wounds. "Poop!" One of which was a waitress who bought it before she got the deep-dish pizza she was carrying to the table, so now it's splattered all over the floor, which seems like a terrible waste. "DEATH! DEATH TO SHE WHO WOULD BOBBLE THE DELICIOUS STUFFED SPINACH PIZZA TO THE FLOOR!" She's already dead, Raoul. "AS WELL SHE SHOULD BE! Hee!" Oy. So, anyway, one customer remains, calmly dining amidst the carnage, and Dean inches closer with The Rusty Hand Scythe That Can Kill Anything And Actually Always Does, but alas! The handle magically heats to the point where Dean all but screams out in pain, dropping The Rusty Hand Scythe That Can Kill Anything And Actually Always Does to the floor in the process. "Thanks for returning that," Death politely opens without turning around to face Our Intrepid Hero. Dean glances back down at the floor, but The Rusty Hand Scythe That Can Kill Anything And Actually Always Does has already hopped over to Death's table, where it now rests, its blade curved around Death's iced tea. "Join me, Dean," Death offers -- though, you know, it's more of a command -- before adding, "The pizza's delicious." And Death can knock it off with that "delicious" crap immediately, because I do not have fifty-five bucks to blow on a mail-order pizza from Giordano's, and I am really, really, really hungry right now. Mmmm. Mail-order pizza.
Gah! Where the hell was I? Oh, yes: As lightning flickers through the restaurant's front windows and thunder rumbles ominously overhead, Dean picks his wary way to Death's table and takes a seat opposite The Horseman just as the heavens unleash torrent after torrent of rain down upon the city. "Took you long enough to find me," Death notes, not once glancing up from his delicious-looking meal. "I've been wanting to talk to you," he admits. "I gotta say, mixed feelings about that," Dean replies, ever the smartass. "So is this the part where you kill me?" Lightning flashes across Death's harsh features as he finally lifts his eyes to meet Dean's. "You have an inflated sense of your importance," Death announces. "To a thing like me," he explains, taking a sip of his iced tea, "a thing like you, well: Think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky." Uh oh. I think that Death is being MEAN TO DEAN. "Eeep!" "Eeep," indeed, my scaly friend. He'd best watch his pasty ass lest the rabid crazy fucking Deangirls forcibly relieve him of it. In any event, Dean doesn't quite know how to respond to that -- though my God, he's looking especially attractive during this scene thanks to some expert hair-, lighting-, and camerawork -- so he remains silent as Death continues, "This is one little planet, in one tiny solar system, in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers. I'm old, Dean -- very old -- so I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you." I think I'm in love. "Demian!" Kidding! Just kidding, but I certainly wouldn't mind if Death popped up every now and again in future episodes to remind these dolts how insignificant they are -- it might give these weepy little girly men a little perspective on all of their distasteful chick-flick ills.