"Where the hell are we now?" Dean looks around; it seemed like a pretty simple place. So had the basketball court though, (And oh man is he going to harp on Sam about the herpes commercial) Dean can't trust anywhere they end up.

Sam is next to him, looking around a bit wide eyed, (Dean would be too if he kept getting his manhood messed with) Sam looks up at Dean mouth pressed flat and brow creased with worry.

"Dean I know where we are." And as soon as he says it out of nowhere this big ass face comes over the horizon, a giant baby face that's glowing and acting like some kind of sun, it giggles and music comes from nowhere in particular-

A voice booms from the sky, "Over the hills and far away, Teletubbies come to play."

Oh shit, no.

To Sam Teletubbies are the equivalents of clowns. Clowns are no go, as far as Sam's concerned. Sam huddles behind Dean when pipes pop out of the ground and echo over and over, "Time for Teletubbies. Time for Teletubbies. Time for Teletubbies."

Then the things appear. Seriously? Whoever made this show must've been on acid for the better half of their life.

The purple one pops up, jumping from one foot to another. "Tinky Winky!"

A green one pops up doing some odd shuffle. "Dipsy!"

Now a yellow thing comes, waving its arms around. "Laa-Laa!"

And a tiny red one jumps around (And frankly Dean suspects this one the most,) "Po!"

With each creature that comes up the hill Sam flinches backwards more and his hand twitches a little closer to his gun, but when they all turn and stare at the brothers, pointing and chanting, "Your turn, your turn, your turn, Yours!"

Apparently that's enough reason for Sam to blow their heads off.

As stuffing flies everywhere Dean's curiosity gets the better of him and he sticks his tongue out (it's not snow, but close enough) and whaddya know, Teletubbies taste like cotton candy.

"That went as well as I thought it would."

The Trickster had popped up behind the boys, an amused smile on his face. (Not that the expression ever changed.)

Sam lifted his gun and spewed, (Sam seemed to be calming down the past few days, but jeez that anger is still in there,)

"Motherfucker let us out, let us the hell out or I'll-"

"You'll what? Shoot me? Try it. I could send you to the Big Comfy Couch." The Trickster grinned slyly when Sam went sheet white.

He raised his hand and prepared to snap his fingers when Dean yelled. "Wait wait wait!"

Sam watched Dean scoop up some Teletubbie fuzz and stuff it into his jacket pocket with an expression of horror. Dean (Being himself) thought he was being rude and offered said fuzz to Sam. Sam recoiled.

The Trickster watched the brothers with an amused scoff, and finally snapped his fingers.

"Moving on, boys."