Episode Report Card Demian: B+ | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Men Suck
By Demian | Season 5 | Episode 21 | Aired on 05.03.2003
Demons who dwell
In slivers of night,
Uncloak your shadows
To witches' sight.
A giant who is not André because that guy is long dead rises behind them from a murky haze of black smoke to tower above the gals, clad in what suspiciously resembles the infamous holocaust cloak. Piper wings the vanquishing vial into his chest, and Not André howls and wails and disappears in a veil of fire. "We done here?" Raige snips. "Sleaze away!" Piper cheerily replies. "Yeah, well, at least I get some," Raige retorts before orbing on out of there.
Lair Of The Ratbag. The gentleman of the lair, enshrouded in the duvet, raps on the bathroom door while whispering Raige's name. Raige emerges, fanning away Creeper stench while nattering some excuse about not hearing him. Ratbag sniffs the air. "It's all right," he says. "You don't have to hide in there. I know what you're doing." "You do?" Raige gapes, believing she's been busted. "Yeah," he shrugs. "You smoke." Wah. Wah. Waaaaaah! I light my fourth cigarette of the morning as the opening credits clamor into the lair to smack Raige's delighted grin clear off her face.
Darryl, my man! Long time no see.
Unbearably perky opening travelogue. "I UUUUUUsed to carry the weight of the world!" trills an overexcited ovary. "And now all I wanna do is spread my wings and fly-YIII!" Shut up, ovary. I'm assuming the lyrics reference Phoebe's Issue Of The Week, by the way, because everything's All About Her, but we'll get to that later. Over on Prescott Street, the Feebs herself has invaded the Bridal Boudoir to swipe some of Piper's lipstick. She blithers endlessly about the contrasting merits of "Woodmist" and "Rouge Sensation" before turning to ask The Done One for his opinion on the matter. Wait a minute. Who the hell is that kid on Piper's bed? Shit. Just when I'm finally able to distinguish one goddamned Done One from another, they go and throw a new baby into the mix. What's more, this one's at least eight months old, so I suppose it's curtains for the Achingly Cute Doltine Cracker, Quasimodo, and Wyatt-San. Something tells me they're keeping The Precious Done One Log on the payroll for now, though. An unintentionally hysterical bit follows wherein Phoebe rattles out instructions regarding proper Grams-meeting etiquette while The Rapidly Aging Done One just stares up at her blankly all, "I see your lips moving, so I know you're talking to me, but you're such a complete and utter moron that refuse to process a word you say, you terrifying hag."
Raige enters to chat with Phoebe about Chronic The Hedgehog making some sort of international booty call to the Feebs from his corporate jet, but I'm not listening, because The Rapidly Aging Done One is completely ignoring his trampy aunts in favor of pushing himself up from the pillows, shoving his pacifier into his mouth, and playing with one of his little black sneakers like he's about to lace the thing up all by himself. And this is why you should never work with babies, ladies. They're focus-sucking monsters. The camera finally cuts away from The Rapidly Aging Done One in time for Raige to wonder if anyone's ever utilized the truth spell from the Book of Shadows. Phoebe confirms that The Late Lamented once did, with predictably wacky results, and warns Raige not to try it out on Slampiece Ratbag. "It could hurt a lot," she cautions. "You never know what you're gonna get when you cast that spell." Raige's response indicates that she's going to go for it anyway, but I'm no longer paying attention to her because The Rapidly Aging Done One is throttling Phoebe with her own necklace. Atta boy. Before he can choke the life out of the dimwit, however, Piper bellows from below.