hey i wrote another chapter to this

the co-writer of previous chapters was Mr Johnny Walker but this chapter involved Mr Jack Daniels

ooh gentleman jack always there to ease the paiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin

"Sam, you've got white on you."

"What?" Sam felt around his face. "Where?"

"Dribbling out of your mouth. Here," Castiel licked a napkin, and then dabbed at his face. Almost instantly, Sam was flying at half-mast.

"Thanks, Cas," he said, licking his vanilla ice cream cone and adjusting his crotch.

Once in town, our friends had immediately forgotten what they had come to do. They had gotten some ice cream, and were now playing with the Impala's babies and making plans for tomorrow. Playing with the baby Impalas entailed throwing sticks that they refused to fetch and trying to fend them off while they attempted to fornicate with your leg (cars matured faster than humans, and auto-puberty had hit hard), and making-plans-for-tomorrow was just Sam suggesting activities then being shot down.

Dean, however, was delighted. The ice-cream parlor had run out of his favorite flavor of ice cream, and now he had something to angst about. He had been cheerful for too long, dammit. But to his ire, neither Sam nor Cas were paying attention to him! He'd been trying to cry prettily for about fifteen minutes, not wanting to ruin his eye make-up, but really, if no one asked him what was wrong soon, he'd consider it.

One of the baby Impalas (Pinkie Pie, also known as Optimus Prime, depending on who you were) started to hump Dean's leg gleefully. "Get off, you little bastard," he muttered, fearing for his pants.

"Hey, guys! What about a picnic?" Sam turned to Dean joyfully.

"What?" Dean asked, still unsuccessfully trying to pry the lustful vehicle off his leg.

"You know, tomorrow. There's woods all around here, I'm sure we could find a nice spot. I could make some food tonight; I bought that new cookbook a few weeks ago. Dean, if I made that garlic stuffed chicken thing, would you eat it?" Sam inquired.

"Sam," Castiel said, "the corpse was found in the woods. If we do go there, we should be armed, and -"

"Jesus Christ, Cas, shut the cock up. You always have to ruin everything for us. Like that time you bought those rubber balloon thingies and made us all wear them during sex because you said it would be 'safer' or something."

"Condoms," Castiel supplied, "and I got them free from a clinic."

"Whatever," Sam rolled his eyes, "the thing is; you're no fun. You never want to do fun things." Castiel sighed. There really was no arguing with Sam, especially when he was like this. If there was, Dean and Cas wouldn't have had to be subjected to post-coital shadow puppets every night. Just then, he had another thought.

"But it's raining. And it's supposed to rain all week. You can't have a picnic in the rain," Cas stated, reasonably.

"God, Cas, don't be such a Debbie Downer. Quitters quit, and we're not quitters! We're having a picnic tomorrow, and that's that!" Sam turned on the Impala defiantly. "Let's go back to the motel. I've got sandwiches to make."

To be continued…

OMGZ WUT WILL HAPPEN?

CRAZY SHENANIGANS AND HILARIOUS HIJINKS YOU BET YOUR SWEET ASS