Supernatural Spotlight – Episode 6.11 “Appointment in Samarra”
This episode begins with the appearance of Robert Englund (better known as Freddy Kreuger from Nightmare on Elm Street) as a doctor who works out of the back room of a Chinatown butcher shop. He’s stitched up John Winchester many times over the years, but now it’s Dean seeking him out, for some sort of procedure which, apparently, has a 75% success rate. I’m thinking a vasectomy, but no, he’s going to go all Flatliners.
In the seven minutes that he’s dead, Dean casts a spell to summon Tessa, a Reaper (as in the Grim kind). But he doesn’t really want Tessa, he wants her boss … Death.
Dean figures that if there’s anyone they know who can get Sam’s soul out of its little hell box with Lucifer and Michael, it’s Death. And, in fact, he’s right. He tries to blackmail Death by threatening to not give his ring back (the ring was obtained at the end of last season, so that the Winchesters could trap Lucifer). Death is amused, because he knows exactly where the ring is being held. But still, he offers Dean a deal, a bet, and if successful he’ll give Sam’s soul back and put up a wall that will hold back the memories of his torments … for a time. Possibly even a lifetime.
The terms of the bet: Dean has to wear Death’s ring for a day.
Media tie-in novels are common nowadays, and 
A little context: I am a huge fan of the old-school Stan Lee/Jack Kirby THOR run from the 1960s. Not the entire run, mind you, just the really good second half when Kirby was really off the hook. The Origin of Galactus, Ego the Living Planet, the ManGog, Tales of Asgard, just amazing and timeless Kirby goodness. There’s a reason this guy was called the King of Comics, and this series shows it like no other.
It gives me great pleasure, now, to invite Leah here to talk to us about Ideomancer and its exciting current issue.
Confession: I watch almost no TV. Well, that’s not quite true: NFL football, an occasional news program, and the odd episode of The Simpsons aside, I watch no TV. Lost is lost on me. There aren’t enough hours in the day for 24. The Sopranos? Fuggedaboutit. There are too many good books to be read in the world and not enough time for television.
During the course of the past few days I’ve had the pleasure of chatting with a goodly number of writers. It’s been good for my soul to talk shop with knowledgeable peers. But one question that invariably cropped up concerned my method of writing. How did I prepare my drafts? And as I explained it, curious looks would blossom over the visages of my brother-and-sister scribes.