Episode Report Card Demian: B- | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Smells Like Fish, Tastes Like Chicken (Parte Deux)
By Demian | Season 5 | Episode 2 | Aired on 09.21.2002
Oh, copier room. I think I'll miss you most of all. Not. Raige lays a little exposition on the Cole, blaming him for Phoebe's transformation in the process. She none too kindly suggests he vanish himself to Tibet, and swears that Phoebe thinks he's "an evil freak with superpowers from Hell and battery acid for blood." It slowly dawns on him that this isn't Raige's longstanding animosity shrieking in his face -- it's Phoebe shrieking at him as well. Raige lobs a few more choice words at him and stomps out of the copier room for the very last time ever. Cole purses his lips and looks pensive.
Hag Manor, Attic Subdivision. Piper's finished her Rosie Perez spell and rises to her feet to recite it. Fortunately for my eardrums, she does not employ Rosie Perez's accent and inflections to do so. It goes a little like this:
Locked in,
Boxed in.
Full of fear,
My panic
Grows manic
'Til I can't hear.
In need
Of reprieve
So I can breathe.
Remove my fear,
Please make it leave.
Dude. Piper has got to stop listening to those alt-rock crapmeisters she books at P3. ["Or reading Kaia's crap poetry." -- Sars] Though I have to admit, whoever wrote this for her did a good job at tossing together a bit of rhyme that actually sounds like something Piper herself would create on her own. Whoa. Did I just compliment a Charmed writer? I need more coffee. Anyway, Piper glows a bit after she completes her recitation, and skitters to the full-length mirror to see if she can notice anything different in her demeanor.
Sittin' on the dock of the bay, watching some overweight bozos unload their trawler. Two of the guys position the net over a bin of some sort, and the third yanks on the rip-cord thingy once the net's in place. Like I know from commercial fishing. Of course -- of course -- the Feebs, unconscious, comes tumbling out of the net with the rest of the tuna and the halibut and whatnot. Moron. Mylar romped through the oceans for centuries before she gave it all up for a tawdry knockoff of Tom Cruise. I bet she never swam into a fucking net. Jesus. And I suppose this means I won't be buying shots for Hurricane Isidor any time soon. In any event, the fisheryokels poke and prod and leer at her, wondering whether she'd be worth more alive or dead. Dead, guys. Definitely worth more dead. Necron unfortunately zips onto the pier at this moment, cutting short our foray into the world from which Sebastian Junger minted piles of money. One of the fisheryokels hoists a speargun and nails Necron right in his Adam's apple. The force of the impact slams him up against the wheelhouse of a tugboat, and the spear, still embedded in his neck, embeds itself further into the side of the boat. Oh. Yes! Even better -- get this -- Necron calmly eases himself forward to pop his neck off the end of the spear. More effects like that one, please. Please? The fisheryokels don't have much time to gawp, for Necron blasts each of them with bolts that reduce them instantly to teeny piles of ash and cloth on the dock. Necron then menaces his way to Phoebe's side, and a small amount of Feeb-fu ensues. After clocking the demon with a winch, Phoebe calls out to the Dolt, who orbs in immediately to orb right on out of there with her. Necron conjures a couple of scruffy black crows on a bit of rigging and orders them to follow Phoebe and the Dolt. The scruffy crows comply by winging off into the commercial break.