In any event, yeah: No blood, with just a lot of girly screaming from Boring Sammy instead, and to heap insult on top of injury, here, even though its victim was quite uncomfortably and unnecessarily naked the last time this particular torture device featured in the narrative, Hallucinatory Uncle Arthur for whatever reason has chosen to keep Boring Sammy completely clothed, so there's another reason this stupid scene can just rot in Hell for all I care. "I agree!" Thanks for that, Raoul. So, I can move on? "You must! [Slurp!]" Excellent. Well, first I should probably note that this hideously dull sequence does close with the camera swirling above Boring Sammy's boring form prone on the boring cot -- where he'd been all along, in case you fell asleep during that last scene -- and it ends with Our Intrepid Hero stretched out in the actual shape of an actual inverted crucifix atop the now downward-pointing pentagram painted onto the floor below so, you know. He's Satan. Or something like that. Next!
Up in the parlor, night's fallen, and Bobby pours out a couple of shots of scotch that he and Dean'll sip on throughout the conversation that follows, and I mention them specifically because the shots of scotch are probably the most exciting elements of the scene. Yaaaawww...ooops. Forgot this bit. Just as Bobby ruminates over the nonexistent possibility that Boring Sammy won't survive the boring detox because Bobby's contractually obliged to ignore the fact that Jared Padalecki's returning for the fifth season, one of his many, many telephones rings. "Hello?" Bobby answers, and he listens to the person on the other end for all of two seconds before barking, "Suck dirt and die, Rufus. You call me again, and I'll kill ya." Heh. Bobby slams down the phone. Dean, cautiously intrigued, edges closer to Bobby's desk to wonder, "What's up with Rufus?" "He knows," Bobby darkly replies, like he's some hairy, middle-aged mash-up between Paris Hilton and Jenna Maroney, and hee! In any event, the phone promptly rings again, and this time around, Bobby actually listens to what Rufus has to say, and an expression of horror gradually creeps across his craggy face. DUN!
Meanwhile, down in The Hateful Boring Panic Room Of Demonic Boringness And Detox, Stupid Boring Sammy finally realizes he's not actually strapped to Princess Embolism's torture table, and sits up to...hurl himself into yet another hallucination! DUZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Fortunately, this one involves Colin Ford appearing before Our Intrepid Dumbass as Wee Sam, so the scene's not a total loss, but then again, given the surrounding episode, the scene's not exactly positioning itself anywhere on the same continent as a win, if you know what I mean, so whatever. Wee Sam politely confirms for the benefit of the exceptionally inattentive in the audience that Boring Sammy is indeed hallucinating before demanding, "How could you do this to me?" Stupid Sammy opens his m...awwwwwwwww! It's The Super-Special Puppy-Dog Eyes Of Guilt-Stricken Pleading And Doom! And while they appear to have no effect whatsoever on Wee Sam, they're turning yours truly into a puddle of goo right here on the sofa, so perhaps I should fast-forward through this little bit to get to the heart of Wee Sam's argument, such as it is. "Please do! Your unexpected sympathy for the tiresome lad is making me nervous! [Slurp!]" As you wish, Raoul. So, Wee Sam's central point seems to be that Stupid Sammy promised them both a life of luxurious normalcy, and as we all know, Stupid Sammy's failed spectacularly on that point, so next!
Well, okay, there's a little more to it than that, I suppose, with Wee Sam yelling at Stupid Sam about Stanford and whatnot, and Stupid Sam apparently still harboring massive amounts of guilt regarding Crispy Jessica's most spectacularly gruesome demise at The Ceiling Demon's hand, and then Wee Sam mocks Stupid Sam for clinging to Crispy Jessica's blessed memory as some sort of excuse for his current behavior, and at this, Stupid Sam clenches up completely to tell his younger incarnation to go blow, so Wee Sam magically whips himself around to the other end of the room, and by the time Stupid Sam's pivoted around on the cot, Wee Sam's eyes have flipped a sickly, marbled yellow. DUN! Except, you know, not, because this is a goddamned fucking hallucination, and Stupid Sam's babbling away at nothing more than himself, so again: Whatever.
Back upstairs, we finally get some actual damn plot points in the form of a sheaf of research Bobby passes to Dean. Seems Rufus risked Bobby's wrath to let him know three more seals had been shattered, those being the ten animal species that suddenly vanished from Key West, the fifteen guys on an Alaskan fishing boat who were suddenly struck blind, and the New York teacher who suddenly decided she had sixty-six students too many. "And why were we not witness to THAT?!" Raoul shrieks, understandably feeling cheated, especially given the gruesome possibilities inherent in that last scenario, and dude. Do you know how much money it would have cost them to stage such sequences of death and destruction? "Too much!?" Correct. "Rats!" Have some more flagon juice, sweetie -- it'll calm your nerves. "Thanks! [Slurp!] I will!" In any event, neither Bobby nor Dean has any idea how many seals remain, and both find themselves more than a little perturbed that Dean's angel friends are nowhere to be found, so Bobby's got an idea. "I was just wondering," he hesitates, not sure how Dean will react, so you know Dean's going to storm off in a stompy little bow-legged fit as soon as Bobby gets the next few words out of his mouth, "with The Apocalypse being nigh and all, is now really the right time to be having this little domestic drama of ours?" Dean, not getting it, spits, "Whaddya mean?" "I don't like this any more than you do," Bobby hedges, "but Sam can kill demons -- he's got a shot at stopping Armageddon." Dean, of course, is outraged, and refuses to "sacrifice" his younger brother's "life" and "soul" for "the greater good," and speaking as one of the six billion people on the planet such sacrifice would save, Dean, I'm afraid I must tell you to SHUT THE HELL UP. Ignoring me, naturally, Dean continues rhetorically, "Times are bad, so let's use Sam as a nuclear warhead?" YES, DEAN. YES EXACTLY. "I must say!" Raoul interjects. "That charming young man is being quite the selfish little human-thingy at the moment, don't you think?!" HAVE YOU NOT BEEN LISTENING TO ME RAOUL? YES! YES! A THOUSAND TIMES YES! GOD! "Hee! [Slurp!]" Oh, you horrid dragon -- you were del