Chapter Text
"I'm just saying it would be nice if, for once, a horror movie would try to be a little bit more realistic and have the vengeful spirit possess something more commonplace--like a Tickle-Me-Elmo--instead of the stereotypical creepy porcelain doll in victorian garb."
Perplexed, Sam asks, "Y/N, why would you want," as he looks over his shoulder from the passenger-side of the front bench-seat of the impala.
"Because it would be fuckin' hilarious, Sammy," Dean guffaws as he fiddles with the radio console knob, trying to find a station with less commercial jingles and more music. Sam counters, "No it wouldn't! Remember the Tishomingo case Garth told us about, with the...toys? The novelty quick wears off."
Dean drags his hand down his face as he recollects, "Aw, shit. I forgot about that. I know I joke about going out with a bang, but that was fucked up."
Interest piqued, you lean your forearms against the front bench-seat and question, "Wait, what happened in Tishomingo...?"
Before Sam can finish pleading, "Don't--," his dear brother curtly lists, "Spirit of an asshole who was sadistic well before turning into Casper the not-so-friendly ghost. Possessed dildos. Bodily fluids of all kinds spewed everywhere," before shaking his head, a look of disgust contortining his face into a grimace.
"Eww," you drawl as you don an expression matching that of Sam and Dean's shared grimace.