Word Counter: I fed it's unnatural hunger for percision
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
A/N: She's dead, Jim.
Happy Birthday Liv! You're the most fantastic beta, you keep me thinking and striving to improve my writing. I could never ask for a better muse.
Dean tried to count the chickens, but not enough had hatched. He buried his head in his hands. "There's not enough room in here to swing a cat!"
Sam held the burlap bag shut as firmly as he could. With a yelp, he let the cat out of the bag. "Damn!"
Dean squirmed uncomfortably, carefully stepping on pins and needles. "Your guess is as good as mine."
Sam pointed to the book floating above them. "It's that cursed book!"
"The bigger they are, the harder they fall." Dean smirked as he took aim.
Meanwhile, several cows began the trek home.