I'D LOVE TO STEAM UP
A DEADLY, FRESH, HOT
CUP OF MINT TEA LACED
WITH CYANIDE AND CRAM
IT DOWN SAM WINCHESTER'S
THROAT. EVERY LAST DROP
OF IT. AND JUST WHEN HE
THINKS HE'S HAD THE WORST
OF IT ALL, I'LL GIVE HIM
A NICE COLD SHOWER WITH
FLUOROANTIMONIC ACID.