Dude, this sucks.

[It's the understatement of a lifetime as they make their way down a long, winding, dusty road. It's a million degrees outside and as it turns out, linen shirts and cotton pants aren't as comfortable as they sound. Don't even get him started on the itchy beard glued into place. He scratches at it with an air of irritation.] How the hell does ZZ Top pull this off?

[He turns for the hundredth time to look back at the Impala's hiding place off the highway and behind a forgotten gas station. He can't really make it out anymore, but he can feel her lying there. Calling for him to come back and drive her somewhere far, far away from this scenic countryside.


He sighs, pushing down his irritation but unable to remove it from his tone.] Alright. Tell me the plan again. We get in as long lost cousins Bill and Ted, we feel out the curse, then what? It's not like we can salt and burn the bitch.

[Parks the Impala outside a downtown apartment building that has seen better days. Things have been a bit strained since Dean turned down the opportunity to be an immortal Frankenstein and he's grateful for the temporary relief that this job has afforded, even if this one is a little more unusual than usual. He looks up at the building through the windsheild as a few drops of rain begin to fall.] You sure this is it?

[He looks over at Sam and raises his eyebrows] I thought the Amish were supposed to live on farms, not over a bar called Dirty Frank's.