Hey, stop pushing at my ankles! I'm following you, I swear.
Does protecting me from getting kidnapped by squirrels fall under that "I've got to keep you safe" policy of yours?"Dean:
We're hallucinating. Gotta be. I mean... squirrels?Sam:
Maybe they're rabid? I'm trying to keep them from biting me.Dean:
Actually I think they're drunk. They smell like cheap rum.Sam:
Oh, come on. Drunk? Have you ever heard of alcoholic squirrels? Ooh, maybe someone spilled the rum on them, poor things.
*chittering interrupted by a loud squirrel burp*Dean:
I rest my case.Sam:
That was disgusting. And I'm only mildly surprised that you can recognize drunkenness in squirrels. Why do you think that is?Dean:
A keen eye for noticing details, Sammy, my boy. You should try it.Sam:
. And my eye for details is fine. I think.Dean:
Fine, then. With your eye for detail can you figure out why we've been kidnapped by drunken squirrels to a radio station?Sam:
Well, there's a stack of papers there. Maybe they want us to read them?Dean:
*sound of papers rustling* Dude, you've got to be joking. You brought us here to read the news?
I think that was squirrel for yes. Here, since you're supposedly older, you can start.( Oh, the talky joys of plot weekends. )
And holy crap, I think that's the end of the pile.Dean:
Thank god. So can we go now?
I don't care what that was squirrel for, I'm saying the answer was yes. Want to see if Caritas is still open?Dean:
Awesome. Let's get out of here before the squirrels attack. Good night, Fandom!