A/N: Well, Terry, you said you fear nothing. We shall see about that.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. This is for entertainment purposes only, not for profit.
"Hi there, beautiful!"
"Hey! Stop rubbing up against the Impala like that!"
"But I wuv her. An' I'm pitching woo."
"Only thing I wanna see you pitch is a ball."
"Tha's what I'm doin'. I got two of 'em, y'know."
"Coyote?"
"An' I got my very own dangly. It's a First dangly, too…"
"Old Man, I'm warnin' you---"
"Okay, Zoolander."
"Didn't I tell you before that I don't pout?"
"Yeah, right, scowly boy."
"Jesus. Nothing says dumb idjit like a drunken demi-god."
"Hi, Bobby."
"Hey, Dean. Thanks for unclogging the toilet. I would've done it myself, but those tiny drowned clown bodies get caught up in that u joint, you catch hell trying to get 'em out. And explainin' to a plumber how the hell that happened again is not my idea of a fun afternoon."
"Again? Uh…not your first time at this particular rodeo?"
"Nope. I've lost count. No tellin' what else is down there in those sewers."
"Oh."
"Damn. I gotta go see about that baked chicken in the oven."
"You're gonna leave me out here alone with a drunken demi-god?"
"In a New York minute, boy. As fond as I am of that old furry fool, I'm not lettin' a baked chicken burn to a crisp, even if he did arrange for me to win the lottery. You can handle this, Dean."
"Hey, Dad."
"Hey, son! I can't get Sam to come out from behind the sofa. Keeps saying 'Can't move, clown will eat me'. What the hell is that all about?"
"That's Sam, Dad."
"Did you ev'r know tha' you're my...my hero…hic…"
"Here we go…"
"An' …an' everythin' I would… like to….be…"
"Damn, this is embarrassing--"
"I can fly high-er than…a…eagle…for you are… the wind…beneath my…wings…Hi, Papa John!"
"Oh my God…"
"Hello, Old Man. Got some black coffee in the back if you want it."
"Nope! I wanna greasy pork sandwich in a dirty ashtray. An' a beer."
"Yeah…right. I think you better stick to the black coffee."
"Dun't wan' no stinkin' black coffee."
"Suit yourself."
"I wuv you. Ya know that, don't cha?"
"I suspected as much."
"You knew already? Aw, I wanted to su…sur…sub…sur-pri-se you."
"You did. You do. Every damn day, Old Man."
"No shit? Geez!"
"Dean, where's he goin'?"
"Did you ever know… that you're my her-o…You're…hic… every-thin' I wish I could be…"
"Who knows?"
"I don't believe this."
"He's happy."
"He's ---what?"
"He's happy we didn't ditch him, so he ties one on. You got anything in the journal about hangovers?"
"For humans I know a trick or two, but for Tricksters? You're on your own, son."
"Damn!"
"An' I'm down to get the fric-tion on…so, ladies…yeah…ladies…yeah…"
"Uh, Dean…"
"If you wanna roll in my Mercedes…yeah…"
"Dad?"
"Then turn around, stick it out, even white boys got to shout…"
"Oh God, don't tell me…he's after the Impala again?"
"Baby got back!"
"Yep."
"Oh, baby I wanna get with ya, an' take your picture…"
"Hey!"
"My homeboys tried to warn me…oooops!"
"Come back here!"
"'m drunk, niño, not estúpido!"
"Damn. I never knew Dean could run that fast, John. Old Man's four legged, and he can't shake the kid. Beer?"
"Thanks, Bobby. Knew those endurance runs would pay off sometime."
"Ah, it's been a good day so far."
"Yep. Damn good beer."
"Baby, I'm sorry. When I saw what he was doing to you I wanted to claw my eyes out. I'll never let that happen to you again. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"Hey, Dean."
"Hey, Sam. Dude, you okay?"
"Yeah, now I am. That tiny clown really freaked me out."
"Sam…"
"Crawled underneath my shirt and I still don't know where he got that damn feather---"
"Sammy—"
"And those tiny fingers of his. And I think that bastard was using his tongue, too ---"
"Sam—"
"---left tiny little cherry red lip prints all over my stomach—"
"Dude! Way too much info!"
"But I thought you wanted to know---"
"Sam, it's over. Let it go."
"Okay. Uh, Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"You're standing there with your hand raised like you're Storm from the X-Men. And you got a raincloud directly over the Impala."
"Yeah?"
"The cloud is raining on the Impala, Dean."
"Thank you, Captain Obvious."
"Huh. That is pretty damn impressive. Why don't you just wash the car by hand?"
"Don't ask, Sam. Just…don't ask."
A/N: 'Can't move, clown will eat me' – stolen, I mean, borrowed from Lisa Simpson. Storm is the weather goddess in X Men. My apologies to her, too. My muse has already informed me that there will be a third and final part to this opus, posted Saturday. Why? 'Cause that's the kinda muse she is.
Reviews are much appreciated.