Standing Outside the Fire

65

[Dog Dean Afternoon]

INT. TAXIDERMIST'S SHOP – NIGHT

Stuffed animals were on display in a workshop. A sports broadcast played on the radio.

"And with a 1:20 left in the game, it's 62-54. This team wants that championship. It would be great. He's up. It's good, but the ref's on the whistle. He's calling a foul."

A German Shepherd walked over to a desk at which a taxidermist was brushing the whiskers of a squirrel under a magnifying lamp. A completed squirrel was dressed in an ornate cape and held a sword. Another had a bird draped across its back. A display sign read 'Game of Thrones.'

"It could be charging. Number 10 – he's not happy about that. This guy just about could foul out, and nobody but the ref wants to see that happen. Coach Johnson watching the clock. He calls time-out. Talking to the ref right now. You know, so far in this game, there have been a number of fouls called by this particular ref, and that's not..."

The dog whined.

"Easy, Colonel," the taxidermist said.

Something fell or was knocked over in the workshop. The German Shepherd barked and growled. The taxidermist switched off the radio, picked up a shotgun and went to investigate.

"Is anyone here?" the taxidermist asked.

He walked towards a large stuffed bear and seemed surprised when he looked up and saw it.

"Whoa! Gets me every time."

The German Shepherd barked as the taxidermist walked back to his desk.

"What's the matter, boy? It's me."

The German Shepherd continued to bark as a man in a cowboy hat appeared behind the taxidermist. The taxidermist raised his shotgun, but the man in a cowboy hat knocked it to the floor. The man in a cowboy hat opened his mouth and a long forked tongue protruded.

"What the hell?"

The man in a cowboy hat grabbed the taxidermist by the throat and lifted him off the ground, choking him. As the taxidermist continued to splutter, the man in a cowboy hat grabbed him around the middle. Their shadows reflected on the wall and there was a crunching noise as the taxidermist folded over backwards, his spine broken.

INT. BUNKER – DAY

Sam and Francesca were sitting at the table as Dean came into the room. The twins were in their swings, smiling.

"Wow," Dean commented.

"What?" Sam and Francesca asked.

"Kevin. Just poured some buffalo milk down his gob twice."

"Buffalo milk?"

"Yeah, the hangover cure-all. It's got everything in it. Except buffalo milk."

"How is that kid still recovering from Branson?" Sam wondered.

"What can I say? He's an amateur. The slippery nipple shots at the Dolly Parton Dixie Stampede nearly killed the guy."

"All right. Well, uh, Frankie and I got something that's gonna get us back on the road."

Dean sat next to Sam and across from Francesca. "A case?"

"Yeah," Sam and Francesca replied.

"You sure you're ready for that?"

Sam frowned. "Why would I not be ready for that?"

"Aren't you kind of running on empty?"

"Yeah, but the last three nights straight, I had eight hours of shut-eye. For a hunter, that's like 20. Trust me, Dean. I feel good."