Episode Report Card Demian: B+ | 173 USERS: C+ YOU GRADE IT Never Was There A Tale Of More Woe!
By Demian | Season 6 | Episode 5 | Aired on 2003.10.19
Downstairs, Piper opens the door to greet her date, a pathetic dork who looks like a cross between Greg Kinnear and an eel. What? It's true. He's way overdone the eyebrow waxing, and now they're so far apart, they seem to be dragging his beady eyes to either side of his head. Also, his whole lower face is sort of yanked forward into a long snout with a tiny little line of razor teeth beneath it, peeking through painfully thin lips. Oh, shut up. I know what I'm talking about, and this man is an eel. Anyway, Piper and The Non-Amazing Eel Man make with the awkward small-talk as Phoebe whispers, "He really likes you! I can feel it!" from behind the door. Piper shoots a scorching side-eye at the Feebs, excuses herself for a moment, ducks out of sight to remind Phoebe to leave Raige the fuck alone, and grabs her clutch to exit the Manor. Phoebe mumbles "I will leave [Raige] alone" to herself a couple of times before collapsing internally and shrieking, "I can't! [Big Gay] Chris!" Big Gay Chris instantly orbs in with a few splotches of mud on his fetching blue t-shirt. Part Check: It's all the way back over on the left, and the overall shape of his hair closely resembles what it was at the top of the hour. "I need you to watch [your Tiny Gay Self] for me," Phoebe informs him. "No. Way!" Big Chris protests. "I don't do babies. The one-and-under crowd? Not my thing." And this is why I love him so much. As a Dolt-shaped blob of orbs coagulates beside him in the parlor, Big Chris sarcastically adds, "[The Dolt], however? Great with kids." Big Chris turns to the Dolt and pointedly sneers, "Especially his own." As Phoebe obliviously blithers on about something or other, Big Chris hisses, "You're not following me, are you?" "WhyshouldIbe?" the Dolt slurs in a drearily monotonous response. Phoebe babbles some instructions at the Dolt and races out towards the kitchen. "You get that?" Chris snots as he orbs up through the ceiling. The Dolt splutters impotently for a bit before chasing after the Feebs, insisting he can't take care of Tiny Chris, as he must "follow up on some…things," and why does Tiny Chris need a sitter, anyway? Where's Piper? Incidentally, the Dolt's scruffy, still tan, still pumped up from his summertime exertions, and not wearing flannel, but good goddamn, what the hell is up with his hair? It's like they scraped a flattened marmot off the side of I-94, gelled it up to Jesus, and plastered it onto his head. Douchebag. Phoebe drops Piper's date-bomb on the Dolt's massive blockhead and dashes off on her interfering-in-Raige's-life mission. The Dolt pouts. Shut it, idiot.