|EPISODE 308: A VERY SUPERNATURAL CHRISTMAS
|Madge: This might pinch a little my dear. (cutting Dean's arm)
Dean: You b*tch!
Madge: Oh my goodness me somebody owes a nickel to the swear jar. Oh, you know what I say when I feel like swearing... fudge!
Dean: I will try to remember that.
|Dean: (to Madge) You fudgin' touch me again, I'll fudgin' kill you!
Madge: Very good.
|Young Sam: Is Dad a spy?
Young Dean: He's James Bond.
|Sam: (getting off the phone with Bobby) Well, we're not dealing with the anti-Claus.
Dean: What'd Bobby say?
Sam: Uh, that we're morons.
|Sam: Look, Dean. If you wanna have Christmas, knock yourself out. Just don't involve me.
Dean: Oh, yeah. That'd be great. Me and myself making cranberry molds.
|Sam: I don't get it. You haven't talked about Christmas for years.
Dean: Well, yeah. But this is my last year.
Sam: I know. That's why I can't.
Dean: What do you mean?
Sam: I mean, I can't just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything's okay, when I know next Christmas, you'll be dead. I just can't.
|Dean: (holding up Sam's presents) Look at this. Fuel for me and fuel for my baby!|
|Dean: She gave them to you for free? Do you sell them for free?
Shopkeeper: No way. It's Christmas. People pay a buttload for them.
Dean: That's the spirit.
|Young Dean: First thing you have to know is we have the coolest dad in the world. He's a superhero.
Young Sam: He is?
Young Dean: Yeah. Monsters are real. Dad fights them. He's fighting them right now.
|Dean: Christmas is Jesus' birthday.
Sam: No, Jesus' birthday was probably in the fall. It was actually the Winter Solstice Festival that was co-opted by the church and renamed Christmas. But I mean the Yule log, the tree, even Santa's red suit, that's all remnants of Pagan worship.
Dean: How do you know that? You gonna tell me next... the Easter Bunny's Jewish?
|Dean: Sam, why are you the boy that hates Christmas?|
|Dean: Wreaths, huh? Sure you didn't want to ask her about her shoes? I saw some nice handbags in the foyer.|
|Sam: Huh, when you sacrifice to Holnacar, guess what he gives you in return?
Dean: Lap dances, hopefully.
|(brothers wake tied to chairs)
Sam: Dean, you okay?
Dean: Yeah, I think so.
Sam: So I guess we're dealing with "Mr. and Mrs. God," nice to know
|Dean: So what the hell do you think we're dealing with?
Sam: Actually I have an idea.
Sam: It's uh, it's gonna sound crazy.
Dean: What could you possibly say that's gonna sound crazy to me?
Sam: Um, Evil Santa.
Dean: Yeah, that's crazy.
|Dean: So was I right, was it the serial killing chimney-sweep?
Sam: Yep. It's uh, it's actually Dick Van ****.
Sam: Mary Poppins.
Dean: Who's that?
Sam: Oh, come on. Never mind
|Sam: He punishes the wicked.
Dean: By hauling their asses up the chimney.
Sam: For starters, yeah.
Sam: Nothing. It's just that, well you know, Mr. Gung-Ho Christmas, might have to blow away Santa.
|Santa's Elf: Welcome to Santa's Court. Can I escort your child to Santa?
Dean: Um, no. But actually, uh, my brother here, it's been a life long dream of his.
(Sam gives confused look)
Santa's Elf: I'm sorry, no kids over 12.
Sam: He's just kidding. We only came here to watch.
(Dean smirks and shakes his head)
Santa's Elf: Ewww.
|Sam: Yeah. It's pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door, saying "Come kill us."
|(Dean to shop owner)
Dean: We were playing Jenga over at the Walsh's the other night, and he hasn't shut up about this Christmas wreath. I don't know. (Looks over to Sam) You tell him.
Sam: Sure. (Sam pauses to look at shop owner) It was yummy.
|Dean: So this is your theory, huh? Santa's shady brother?|
|Young Sam: But Dad said the monsters under my bed weren't real.
Young Dean: That's 'cause he'd already checked under there. But, yeah, they're real. Almost everything's real.
Young Sam: Is Santa real?
Young Dean: No.
|Dean: What are you talking about? We had some great Christmases.
Sam: Whose childhood are you talking about?
Dean: Oh, come on, Sam.
Sam: No, just... no.
Dean: All right, Grinch.
|Young Sam: Why do we have to move around so much?
Young Dean: 'Cause everywhere we go they get sick of your face.
|Dean: (Edward taking blood from Sam) Leave him alone you sonofab*tch!
Edward: Hear how they talk to us? (laughs) The Gods. Listen pal, back in the day we were worshipped by millions.
Dean: Times have changed.
Edward: Tell me about it. All of a sudden this Jesus character is the hot new thing in town. All of the sudden our altars are been burned down and we are being hunted down like common monsters.
Madge: Oh but did we say peep. Ohh no no, we did not. Two millennia we kept a low profile, we got jobs, a mortgage... wait, what was that word dear?
Edward: We assimilated.
Madge: Yeah ,we assimilated. Why, we play bridge on Tuesdays and Fridays. We are just like everybody else.
Dean: You are not blending in as smoothly as you think lady!
|(breaks into suspected Anti-Santa's house)
Suspected Anti-Santa: WHAT THE HELL?!
Dean: Um.. uh... Siiilent niiight.... hooollly niiight...
(Sam joins in )
|(looking at a house with tons of elaborate Christmas decorations)
Dean: This is where Miss Wreath lives huh? Can't you just feel the evil pagan vibe?
|Edward: You mister had better show us some respect!
Sam: Or what, you'll eat us?
|(Sam in pain)
Dean: Merry Christmas Sam.
|Young Dean: What is it?
Young Sam: Sapphire Barbie?
|Sam: (opens his gift from dean) Yeah! Skin mags! And shaving cream!|
|Madge: Open wide. (puts pliers into Deans mouth and grips a tooth. The door bells rings)
Dean: Somebody gonna get that? You should get that.
|(young Sam holds a girl baton in his hand)
Young Dean: Maybe Dad thinks your a girl. (laughes) Open the next one. (Sam rips off the paper and peers at the gift) What is it?
Young Sam: Sapphire Barbie? Where did you get this Dean? Tell the truth.
Young Dean: The nice ladies house down the street. But I didn't know they were chick gifts, I swear.
|Sam: Hey, uh, Dean, (long pause, Dean looks over) You feel like watchin' the game?
Dean: (grins) Absolutely
|Edward: Sweet Peter on a popsicle stick!|
|Dean: What are we looking for again?
Sam: Um, lore says that the Anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smell like sweets.
Dean: Great, so we're looking for a pimp Santa. Why the sweets?
Sam: Think about it, Dean. If you smell like candy, the kids will come closer, you know?
Dean: That's creepy.
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