Episode Report Card Demian: B | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Long Live The (Drag) Queen
By Demian | Season 4 | Episode 20 | Aired on 05.01.2002
Anyway, the Dolt orbs into the attic and calls Raige over for a consult. "How is she?" he murmurs, referring to the wife. "She's like Piper Lite," Raige replies. "All the personality without any of those messy emotions." The Dolt thinks real hard about this for all of a millisecond, then ignores it to reveal that "the rumor on the demonic grapevine is their new queen is killing upper-level demons," including those two fine gentlemen from the previous evening's midnight ceremony. The Dolt takes this as possible proof that The Phoebeast is working as a double agent. Raige is delighted with the news. Piper, however, is less than enthused. Resting her weary head on her hand, she mutters, "Since when do you guys believe rumors that are spread by demons?" Raige and the Dolt are struck dumb. Well, Raige is struck dumb, at any rate. The Dolt is just...oh, forget it.
Casa Del Sole. The Sole receives his weekly status report from a variety of black-clad demonic boy toys, led by the leather-jacketed gentleman from last night. The transparent three-dimensional bust of a twentysomething woman rotates in the middle of the glass-topped table as Leather Guy identifies her as "Alison Witt." "Among other things," he explains, "she's spearheading the movement to clean up Delores Park." A grungy runt of a frat boy engages in a territorial pissing contest with a scorching, full-lipped, dark-eyed colleague over who should have the pleasure of vanquishing Ms. Witt. The Sole out-pisses the both of them by noting that "it's all [his] territory." The boys quiet down as Leather Guy moves on to the next target, one "Gregory Conroy," who works as a probation officer for juvenile offenders. The rotating bust hovering above the table spins quickly to morph into the gentleman in question. Apparently, Mr. Conroy is so good at reforming the kids in his care that "he's cost [the Underworld] several potential demons." The Sole nods to the scorching demonic boy toy, indicating that he is to kill Mr. Conroy. Scorchy smiles, and the love radiates outwards from my television screen. The Phoebeast, in form-fitting Eva Savealot pleather and precious little else, slams open the doors from the elevator bank, thereby dragging the meeting to a grinding halt. The various dark demonic forces eye her warily as she makes her way through the parlor. "Relax, boys," she grins as she slithers through the room. "I'm here to cook, not kill." Ew. Her left breast is about to pop out of her top. She fakes the guys out by drawing back her hand as if winding up for a flaming pitch, then giggles when they startle and jump in their chairs. The Phoebeast pauses to peck The Sole on his cheek, and continues into the kitchen with her shopping bags. You're telling me The Queen Of All Evil doesn't send an underling to the supermarket? What about D'Eartha, Feebs? She's halfway to being your own private pack mule, after all. Whatever. The Sole rises to his feet, shoots a look at Leather Guy, and follows The Phoebeast out of the room.