A very short mini series written for my beta, PlatinumRoseLady, because she is very helpful. This just goes to show you that, when challenged, I keep my promises. So feel free to chalange me. Angst to humor, go ahead.

Disclaimer: I have nothing against blind people, people with AIDs, horses, or edible bears, and I do not own Supernatural.

Jokes On You

Chapter Three: Drum roll and Curtain call.

The Impala rolled to a stop at the rustic townhouse that looked a little creepy in the rain storm. Dean eyed it and gave a low whistle. Sam eyed it and chuckled. Lightning flashed, thunder cackled. They got out, with Dean lugging their duffle bag. Sam was too busy carrying his… actually, last time Dean checked, Sam was just swaggering next to him. Being useless.

"Friggin' Sasquatch," Dean muttered.

"Stupid organism," Sam insulted back, and laughed.

Dean froze. "Sam, can you please pretend to control yourself for one minute?"

Sam pouted and muttered, "You are such a control freak."

They walked up to the front door and knocked hesitantly. Sam was distracted by something shinny that vaguely reminded him of a hilarious hippo. Dean steadfastly focused on the door as to avoid acknowledging Sam's annoying presence. It was opened by an elderly gentleman with a timid, "Hello?"

"Is the home of the comedian-" Dean started to say his name but was abruptly cut off.

"Yes, this is the Master's home. Was. I meant, was his home until he got the last laugh," the old man said in a raspy voice. He chuckled dryly.

"Okay," Dean said nonchalantly as Sam stood next to him shaking with mirth. "I'm Dean Ackalacki and we are reporters for the Daily Planet."

"I'm Old Man Bates," he looked over at Sam, "Is your co-worker okay?"

"Clark?" Dean turned to Sam, who was bright red. "Oh yeah, he's fine. He's just super sensitive to light."

"So, anyway, the Master…" Dean started to question.

Bates got very excited suddenly and started to mutter. "No! He was 'Master' but I'm the Master of the house now! You may call me Master… Bates."

Dean looked at him. "Uh, yeah Master… Bates can we see his workshop?"

Beside him, Sam had firmly clamped one hand over his mouth to keep the giggles quiet.

Master Bates eyed them warily, but let them in. "What do you need to see anyway? All that phony Comedian had has gags that nobody appreciated."

He added softly, "Nobody appreciated me."

Sam patted his back softly. Bates looked at him, his eyes brimming with unspoken emotion. "It's lonely here, sometimes."

As Dean pushed the door to the secret study open, he heard Sam say, "We'll come back later."

Dean looked over the room, anxious to be done with this case and all its ridiculousness.

"Bates!" a voice shouted from above.

They looked up to see the ghostly form of the Comedian.

"Master!" Bates shrieked.

"Dean!" Sam yelled terrified, but mostly amused.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, trying to stop Sam from touching everything in the room.

"Why yes that's me," he said brightly, picking up a rubber nose.

"I thought his name was Clark…" Old Man Bates said suspiciously.

"Who dares disturb my slumber?" the Comedian called again from the rafters. He wafted down to face Sam.

Dean patted Sam's shoulder. "Uh, we do. Just on a dare."

Sam chirped, "We're trying to make you disappear!"

"Sam."

Sam smiled, at Dean's glare. "Can we light stuff on fire now?"

"Oh that's it. Well, Joke's on you." The Comedian crossed his arms over his chest. "The only way you may leave this place is if you can answer my riddles three."

Dean was trying to figure what object had the most potential. There was a lot here, and anyone of them could be tying the rouge spirit to this earth. If it would by them time -he sighed, "Sure give me your riddles."

"What…" the Comedian stopped for dramatic pause, "do you call a bear with no TEETH?"

"Gummy Bear," Dean said, crossing off the whoopee cushion, squirt gun, and chattering teeth from his list. Sam poked a small stuffed animal and giggled.

"Okay, I'll give that one to you. Next! Why…" the Comedian stopped to think of something, "don't Seagulls live by the bay?"

Dean's eyes narrowed on a hideous bow tie that sat upon a red pillow in the middle of a pedestal. "Because then they'd be bay-gulls," he called as he walked towards the demonic object.

The Comedian was furious. But so intent was he of thinking a decent riddle, he paid little attention to his guests. Old Man Bates was dusting in the corner. "Ah ha!" he declared triumphant, "and now for the toughest question yet!"

Dean held up the polka dotted monstrosity and listened intently. "Alright," the Comedian said savagely, "A horse walks into a bar, the bartender says-"

"Why the long face!" Dean said flicking his lighter open.

"'I have A.I.D.s!'" Sam completed the archaic joke. Sam fell over laughing so hard, his ribs ached painfully, and gut was sore.

The Comedian snapped. "Drat and Blast."

"Hold on!" Dean called to Sam, sprinkling some salt on the bowtie. With practiced ease he lit the bowtie on fire. John Winchester's training had to be good for something, aside from teaching Dean amazing jokes.

"Oh no!" The Comedian said, suddenly realizing that his ghostly tail was on fire. "Bates stop them!"

Bates dropped his feather duster and huffed. "Why do you always call me when you need me?"

He stormed away to vacuum the kitchen.

The ghost shrieked then disappeared. Gone from his ghostly clutches, Sam was able to finally stop laughing. Dean picked up a squirt gun, just in case. He doused Sam. When no giggles ensued he breathed a sigh of relief.

Sam stood up and cleared his throat. He shuffled in place. He blushed. "That was awkward."

"Just tell me you no longer have any interest in High School Musical."

"What?" Sam raised one eyebrow. He blushed, thinking of his deep longing to one day perform in a musical. Preferably Wicked. He shook his head sadly.

"Good." Dean snorted, walking out of the old house. "Let's go get pie."

"Hey, Dean," Sam brightened, "why don't blind people sky dive?"

Dean sighed, and shrugged. "Because it scares the shit out of their dogs!" Sam explained.

"That's not funny Sam," Dean said checking that there was nothing else weird in the house before moving on, "But guess what?"

Sam shrugged, dodging a falling chandelier. "What?"

"I owe you a lot of pranks."

Sam eyes widened as they walked out the door. "But Dean," he whined, "it was the ghost sickness… you can't blame me for that!"

Dean got into the Impala. He turned on the radio. "I can and I will, Sam. Get in the damn car."

Sam sighed. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep well for the next few days, but at least things were normal.

As he settled himself in the car, he sat on a whoopee cushion.

Well, mostly normal.

THE END