Episode Report Card Demian: B+ | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Touch my monkey.
By Demian | Season 5 | Episode 20 | Aired on 04.26.2003
The camera cuts over to a nearby stall, atop which perches a screeching monkey. I think it's Marcel from Friends and Outbreak. Fortunately, neither David Schwimmer nor Dustin Hoffman will be joining us for this evening's festivities. Asshat hacks. Piper, Phoebe, Raige, the Dolt, and The Precious Done One Log wander over to bicker about Phoebe's work schedule while Marcel hovers above their heads. At an opportune moment, Marcel leaps from the stall onto Phoebe's shoulder and presses his paw against her ear. He next hops over to Raige to slap a palm over her mouth before finally landing on Piper's head to sling a furry arm across her eyes. Quasimodo whimpers while various onlookers point and laugh. See? I told you this kid was funny-looking. The Dolt decides that Quasimodo's "overstimulated," and prepares to orb back to the Manor while Piper drops off her film for processing and Phoebe heads to her afternoon appointment. "I think that monkey got dust in my eye," Piper bitches. "Do you hear that ringing?" Phoebe dims. Raige clears her throat. Testily. Get it? Good, because even Marcel's had enough of this crap. He howls and spits and rays on over to…
…Crazy Grace's Bar And Grill. Crazy Grace feeds Marcel a peanut before tossing a little glowy mojo. Marcel flares up yellow and morphs into the monkey totem from earlier. Kazaa wants to attack immediately, but Crazy Grace stomps all over that rash idea. "No," she orders. "The witches are infected, but the monkey's curse is designed to punish," she explains. "It won't take their senses until the moment the witches need them most. Muah ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Okay, Crazy Grace doesn't cackle. Then again, Crazy Grace doesn't need to. She's creepy enough without it.
Moment Of Need, Part The First. We cut to The Bay Mirror, where Phoebe, running late, jiggles into a conference room to find Elise Rothman, Girl Editor waiting rather impatiently with a trio of consultants from the never-named newspaper syndicate. The only one of these three to get any lines is the puffy, soul-patched, and terribly fey "image consultant" Chronic hired to whip Phoebe into shape. While he's not as irritating as The Sassy Sissy, he's enough of a stereotype to set my teeth on edge. "I think you're beautiful," he minces, before qualifying, "Stylish -- approachable." I'll take that as code for "bizarre -- slutty" and keep moving. The Pansy continues to gush just as Phoebe's hearing flees the scene. Would that I could do the same, so I wouldn't have to listen to any more of this tedious fag's never-ending Phoebe praise. Fortunately, the Pansy's voice quickly grows tinnier and tinnier until it fades out completely. Phoebe shoves a finger into her ear and digs around for a bit before squinting as she watches the group's lips move without hearing a sound. Elise rests a hand on Phoebe's shoulder and mouths, "Are you all right?" Phoebe, stone deaf at this point, rises uneasily from her chair and blunders out of the office while babbling an excuse for cutting the meeting short. Elise, outraged, shrieks after her, to no effect.