Episode Report Card Demian: F | 159 USERS: C+ YOU GRADE IT Desperate Crackmonkeys
By Demian | Season 8 | Episode 4 | Aired on 2005.10.16
Unfortunately, none of that will be happening tonight. (Ooops. Spoiler!) Instead, Muggy McGowan kicks things off by twitching fitfully down the stairs to enter the dining room clad in a light, summery dress which -- after all of the scurrilous and tawdry gossip surrounding her expulsion from a Los Angeles nightclub this past week -- I can only describe as being "snow white." Raige has arrived on the main floor to bitch about her missing jewelry and her coffee date that morning and NO ONE CARES, RAIGE, before she crosses to the sun porch to annoy the dead-eyed Psycho, who's doing something horrible on the floor with what I'm assuming are the mangled remains of his poor, neglected, and ultimately doomed younger brother. Then again, I didn't look that closely, so maybe the bemulleted one was just banging some toys together. Piper blathers something expository about the Psycho's impending school play, for which she is currently trying to stitch together a costume, and if they're seriously just going to lift an entire subplot directly out of a year-old episode of a far more popular program and dump it into the middle of all this garbage, then they can all rot in Hell. In any event, Raige has parked herself in front of a small mirror so her glamoured Amazonian identity might wonder if it's best to apply a shade of lipstick that complements Raige's actual skin tone or to go with a color better suited for the person the rest of the world can see, and I swear to God, all that Bolivian marching powder has destroyed every last brain cell that was left in that spastic little head of hers, hasn't it? No matter, for it's all just some typewriting crackmonkey's excuse to have Piper rise from her task and stand behind Raige in the reflection so we might catch sight of the new glamour she's chosen for herself after last week's unpleasantness with the police. Piper's new identity is far closer to her actual age, from the brief glimpse we get of her here, and actually resembles Raige's glamour closely enough for the two to pass as sisters. Not that any of you care, I realize. I'm simply trying to be thorough.
Anyway, Piper sits back down to futz with the mini-Sgt.-Pepper's uniform she's concocting for her murderous sociopath of an elder son as Raige babbles in the background about Vex Pexter and how unsuitable a choice he is for the role of Phoebe's semen provider. He's "a player," you see, and even Phoebe's own paper regularly includes gossipy items about his latest conquests, or some such nonsense. Before Piper can properly reply to all of this, however, a bubbly Phoebe jiggles in from the kitchen to blurt, "Did you hear the good news?" "Lemme guess," Raige replies with an overly sarcastic brightness that Phoebe's far too self-centered and stupid to notice, "[Vex] is the one?" "Yep!" the oblivious Feebs perks; referring to the various charts and books scattered about on the dining room table, she continues, "According to every magical calculation there is!" "Not only that," Phoebe adds, manically gesticulating for emphasis, "but it all times out purrrrr-fectly -- you know, my vision of us getting married, when I'm supposed to get pregnant, all of it!" I'm going to ignore her stupid marriage premonition to attack the second part of that thusly: No, dipshit, it does not time out perfectly with when you're supposed to get pregnant -- at least, not if you're basing everything on your assy Vision Quest at Not!warts, for as you'll recall, you birdbrained hag, your nephews were about eight and ten years old, so you're not due for another seven goddamned years, and shut up, Phoebe. And Phoebe's loudly ticking biological clock can go straight to Hell with everybody and everything else responsible for this ungodly mess, too. Blech. In any event, Raige threatens to get snotty, so Piper hastily changes the topic by hoisting the jacket of the Psycho's costume into the air, in the process somehow managing to change scenes entirely as we find ourselves...