A sequel of sorts to "Supernatural Dirty Jobs".

I Hate Pennsylvania Zombies

"These last zombies didn't act like the ones we tangled with in Louisiana," Mike Rowe, host of the Discovery Channel show Dirty Jobs, stated as he dived into one of the platters piled high with steaming crawfish and corn-on-the-cob set in the middle of the table. Mike, his camera crew and the Winchester brothers sat in a quiet corner of a quaint seafood restaurant in Bucks County, Pennsylvania.

Shelling another red crustacean and sucking out the juices Dean Winchester shook his head, swallowing before saying, "nope they didn't. Gotta say this was a first for us."

Troy laughed, "now that's scary."

"Hey Mike," Sam Winchester tossed a sweet potato biscuit at the older man to get his attention, "do you think Dave will be coming out of his room any time soon?"

Easily catching the orange, yeasty missile, Mike tossed it at the smirking green-eyes at the end of the table. "If Dean would stop leaving Hershey bars outside his door he might."

Reminiscent of a B-movie zombie Dean moaned, "chooocolaaate." The men's loud laughter caught the attention of the other patrons who stared at the men for a moment before turning back to their own meals. Dean picked up his bottle of beer and took a long drink. "I'm surprised Dave agreed to join us," he pointed the bottle at his brother, "after what Sammy did to him on the last zombie hunt."

"What I…what I did to him?" Sam replied incredulously, "I didn't do anything to him Dean."

"Who said it was okay to go into the field Sammy?"

"Who knocked down the warning sign with the backend of the Impala?"

"It was dark," Dean countered defensively, his voice going up an octave.

"Oh yes, 'The Sign'," Mike dramatically intoned while wiping his fingers on a Wet nap. "What did it say again?"

Sam and Dean spoke in unison, "This paddock has several lonely," the Dirty Jobs crew joined in, "aggressive, sneaky bulls. Enter at own risk and prepare to become their bitch. Angler's access to river is fifty meters up stream." The men laughed again.

Shaking his head, Mike piled more crawfish and corn on his plate, "those bulls certainly were sneaky."

"Dave should be happy those bulls hate zombies more than living trespassers," Dean said reaching across the table to snag the steaming crustaceans on Sam's plate, "cause if it wasn't for those bulls stomping the zombies chasing him he wouldn't be alive."

"Neither would Sam and Doug for that matter," Mike pointed out with Dean nodding in agreement.

"Hey!" Sam tried to grab back his food but Dean smirked and moved his plate out of reach. "Jerk," he muttered under his breath. He looked down at the diminished pile of crawfish on his plate then quickly reached out and plucked a biscuit out of his brother's hand, grinning when Dean growled at him.

"Bitch."

Shaking his head at the brother's antics, Troy said, "watching those bulls stomp zombies into gooey mush was gross yet kinda…mesmerizing at the same time."

With crystal clarity the memory of the exact point when their plan fell apart slammed into Sam; the zombies turning away from the trap and towards them. The image of the zombies gaining on him, Dave and Doug as they ran as fast as they could over the field's uneven terrain sent a subtle shudder through his large frame.

"Yeah, once the bulls were stomping the crap out of the zombies then it all became mesmerizing, but before that there was nothing like being up close and personal with a couple of one ton bulls staring at you like you're a grape ready to be squashed and a half dozen zombies jonesing for your intestines."

Dean salted a section of corn-on-the-cob, "which reminds me, Sam did you remember to add that to the journal?" he inquired before taking a large bite.

"Which 'that' Dean? Getting stomped by bulls into a pile of chunky jelly is an effective way to destroy a zombie or spraying a crowd of zombies addicted to Hershey chocolate with a mixture of corn syrup and Nestlé's chocolate powder causes them to tear each other apart?" he dipped a biscuit into the juices on his plate. "I inserted both outcomes in between nailing zombies to their grave beds with a silver stake and feeding zombie's hearts to wild dogs."

"Standards and Practices wouldn't allow that to be shown Troy," Doug said, shoulder bumping the blonde-haired cameraman who was staring into space.

"I wasn't…" he protested.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"I wasn't! I was thinking more along the lines of combining the Louisiana footage with the Pennsylvania footage and adding in a zombie hunt from Seattle."

"I probably don't want to know," Dean said, "but what kind of zombies are in Seattle, Troy? Meat eating or vegetarian?"

"Coffee." Mike chuckled as Dean shook his head.

Sam laughed, "if you guys want to see a coffee zombie, I'll e-mail y'all a picture of Dean before he gets his morning half-gallon." His brother flashed him the middle finger.

The laughter died down when their waitress stopped by their table. "Would you gentlemen like some coffee and pie?" Troy snickered when she said 'coffee'.

Dean perked up. "Pie? What kind of pie do you have?"

"Hershey bar and Toll House walnut."

FIN

The title is my take on the phrase " I hate Illinois Nazis" from the movie 'The Blues Brothers'.

FYI - 'Toll House' is Nestlé's brand name for their chocolate chips.