Episode Report Card Demian: A | 1 USERS: A+ YOU GRADE IT Stars shining bright above you
By Demian | Season 1 | Episode 5 | Aired on 11.03.1998
Attic. Kit -- hi, Kit! -- meows and glares from his majestic perch behind some lit candles. Piper and Phoebe sit on the floor beside the low table and read each other's "Perfect Man" wish lists aloud. It's so like a game of Mystery Date that I want to vomit, but you all want to know what they're wishing for, don't you? Sigh. Piper's list reads, "I want a man who is single, smart, and employed. A man who loves sleeping in on Sunday, sunset bike rides, cuddling by a roaring fire, and late night talks. A man who loves love as much as I do." Phoebe wants "the sexy, silent type that finds you driving through town on the back of a Harley at three o'clock in the morning. A man who appreciates scented candles, body oils, and Italian sheets. He's about hunger, and lust, and danger, and even though you know all this and he will never meet your friends or share a holiday meal with your family, you can't stay away. And, he recycles." All of that was [sic], by the way. The ladies also make a joke about their supposed paramours' respective endowments. Now, because I've watched TV before in my lifetime, I know neither of the gals is going to find one man who possesses all of her specified qualities. Nope. Each is going to find an army of men, and each of those men will embody a single characteristic from the list, and every single one of these gentlemen will fall instantly, dangerously in love with the P to whom he's been assigned. And unless Connie Burge yanks some novel way of presenting this subplot out of her ass, it's all going to be so very tedious. Piper flips to the entry in question and is surprised by its contents. Phoebe giggles that, as women, they have it easy as far as the spell goes. "If we were men looking for women," she reveals, "the spell requires putting a piece of honey cake in a sweaty armpit for days." I think I've met guys who would be into that sort of thing. In any event, the gals drop a satchel containing their wish lists into a copper pot at the center of the table, link hands, and recite the following twice:
I conjure thee,
I conjure thee:
I am the queen,
You are the bee.
As I desire,
So shall it be.
As they make their collective way through the verse, a minor whirlwind springs to life within the confines of the attic to blow out the candles and whip through the ladies' hair as Kit yowls with mild irritation in the background. The whirlwind dissipates as quickly as it arose the moment the Ps finish their recitation. Phoebe and Piper hear the phone ringing downstairs and excitedly leap to their feet to answer it. Kit rolls his eyes and licks his paw all, "Stupid bitches."