Those guys are either gonna dust you or use you as bait.

Three points.

(1. I'm not an idiot. I know what this week is. By all means, have a Southern Baptist-style potluck supper for all I care. I'm not gonna be the little archangel that rained on your religious parade.

(2. In case you're all worried, no, I don't celebrate April Fool's Day. I'm a little more professional than that, thanks. Although, given the sheer number of dick moves people pull on that day, it's my busiest time of the year. ...That and Thanksgiving. I'm not sure why.

Anyway.

(3. I'm dragging Irene into the CES tomorrow. We'll be gone... Oh, a good three or four days. Maybe. If you need anything.... Y'know what? Just don't need anything.

Geez. I bet that "Days Without Incident" counter is lonelier than a dateless girl on prom night. Anyone wanna place bets on what happens next? I'm thinking weird alien spores. I'm sure this place would look great colonized by alien lifeforms that just want to eat our spleens.

[Filtered to Max, otherwise known as the AWKWARD FILTER OF AWKWARD.]

Sorry, I got the heck out of Dodge the other night without sayin' anything. My, uh, beeper... Thing went off. Warden business, y'know? Didn't wanna wake you up.

[Filtered to Dean (Viewable by Sam, because Gabe is occasionally a decent person and thinks he deserves to know.)]

Your former Warden kinda... Left me in charge of you until the next sorting, which I'm sure makes you as happy as it makes me, which is not at all. So... We need to talk. And if I do it person, I'll probably end up strangling you.

....I'm not actually sure I won't end up strangling you through the network if this conversation goes where I know it's gonna go, but at least this way, you've got some insurance against me braining you with a bedpan. See? I'm a reasonable guy.

[WELCOME BACK TO THE BARGE, have some Sinatra to twist the knife into your already anguished hearts, because Gabe can't resist mocking the masses. NEVER MIND THAT IF HE LISTENED TO THE LYRICS, IT WOULD HIT UNCOMFORTABLY CLOSE TO HOME, BUT MAYBE NOT, BECAUSE HE'S TOTALLY DENYING THAT HE HAS ANY FEELINGS OF THE LOVING VARIETY FOR PEOPLE NAMED MAX. REALLY. :|]

Welcome back to reality, and to lull you back into that horrible den of self-realization, here's a long-distance dedication for all you newlyweds out there, courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Trickster. May the next week be extremely awkward for all of you. 

As for me... Can every port be like that one? I think I've had enough lust and schadenfreude to keep me happy for the rest of the winter. 

[While the Winchesters are away, the Tricksters will play, apparently. THE BARGE HAS TIMING. :| Hope your ears love the sultry sound of loud-mouthed demigods/archangels with slight southern drawls, residents of the Barge, because that's what you're getting. And there is nothing in the tone of this that does not scream SNARK.]

GOOD MORNIN', VIET-NAM.

Or afternoon. Or, for all I know, half-past midnight. I don't believe in clocks. Anyway. 

Hi! I'm the newest sherrif on this Love Boat. One of you lucky sons of bitches will eventually be mine to mold into whatever amounts to a productive, functional member of society. Lucky you! For the rest of you, juuust get used to the sound of this voice, kids, 'cause you're gonna be hearing a lot of it. 

I could go on, tell you all a few things about me, and we can all have a nice, little sharing circle, buuuut I'm not that kinda guy. Sorry. A man's gotta have a little mystery about him. In this case, a lot. 

But, hey, I'm here for all you losers. That's the deal I made and I live up to my deals. Think of me as your own personal pagan deity. So if you really need and/or want me, look me up sometime. It's Trickster, comma, the. Thank you and good night.