Exercise: Throwing a Fit!
Dean was kicking and yelling and flinging himself around the hotel room. Sam was seriously afraid he was going to break a bone. Lamps hit the floor. Bedclothes flew off the bed. Duffels were upended and clothing thrown about. Sam gathered up all the weapons he could find and shoved them in his pockets.
Too late! Dean pulled out his biggest handgun, NOT the pretty silver one with the mother-of-pearl grips, but the big black ugly Dean-means-business one.
“No, Dean - No!” Sam yelled.
Dean shot the TV. Sparks flew everywhere.
“Frickin BBC America! Spoiled me for Day of the Doctor!”
Too late! Dean pulled out his biggest handgun, NOT the pretty silver one with the mother-of-pearl grips, but the big black ugly Dean-means-business one.
“No, Dean - No!” Sam yelled.
Dean shot the TV. Sparks flew everywhere.
“Frickin BBC America! Spoiled me for Day of the Doctor!”