Episode Report Card Demian: F | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT This Show Blows, And I Want To Die
By Demian | Season 5 | Episode 17 | Aired on 04.05.2003
"Thank you," Phoebe offers. Piper grunts and waves her hands in the air, breaking the freeze before announcing that she has "to get back to going bankrupt." "Scratch that," she amends, glancing at her watch. "I have to get back to fighting with my husband." There's a bit of babble regarding Piper's present difficulties with the Dolt, what with their new baby and their competing "careers" and all, before the gals exit the bar to head back to the Manor.
Cut to an outdoor café, where some deadbeat ratbag wails a version of "Greensleeves" that makes me want to kick him until he's dead. As an aloof businessman strides by without dropping change in the "down on [his] luck" ratbag's guitar case, a midget materializes in the shrubbery. We all saw the previews, so we all know it's a leprechaun, but the more pressing issue is: If I tied my socks together and wrapped them around my neck, could I strangle myself? Or would I pass out before they kill me? I'd live? Shit. The midget opens his stubby fingers to reveal a "nugget" of "gold." "Sláinte is táinte," he chants, and the "nugget" dissolves into a stream of sparkling gold bits that plows into the top of the ratbag's skull. Prepare yourselves: I'm pretty sure that's real Gaelic. I couldn't find "táinte" in any online glossaries, but I know "sláinte is" translates as "health and," so he might just maybe have actually wished "health and luck" on the ratbag. Of course, the midget mispronounced "sláinte," so this episode still blows goats. In any event, a glowy flare passes through the ratbag's body as a gust of wind ruffles his hair and slams shut his guitar case. A whimsical flute tootles in the background as that same gust sends a bit of sidewalk trash skittering down the street. Shut the fuck up, Whimsical Flute. The ratbag spots something green where the trash had been, and rises to investigate. It's a fifty-dollar bill. The ratbag, needless to say, is stoked. No surreptitious enforced sodomy at the Salvation Army shelter for him tonight! Nope, he's gonna get himself his very own cage at a roach-infested SRO! Score! The midget smirks to himself and super-speeds on out of there...
...into a nearby alleyway, where he slams into Gregory Moltisanti from The Sopranos. This can't be good. The midget's knocked flat on his ass from the impact, but quickly leaps to his feet to offer his profuse apologies. Greg, who's been fitted with a pair of reptilian contacts for this evening's festivities, snatches the midget up by his throat and makes with the sneering threats. After far too much of this, Greg tosses a little demonic mojo at the tiny man, who presently howls and wails and explodes. Greg stoops to retrieve the midget's discarded shillelagh, then draws himself up to shout, "Go n-éirí an bóthar laet!" Again, that's real Gaelic. "May the road of light rise," I believe. Does this mean I can't give this crapfest an F? Oh, wait -- I totally can, because as soon as Greg finishes with the shouting, a rainbow arcs over Telegraph Hill and plants itself at his feet. God, I hate this show. Unicorns, leprechauns, Harry Potter, and rainbows? Who the fuck do they think I am? Hilary Duff? 'Cause, you know, it's all about me. Greg steps into the rainbow, flares white, and shoots into the opening credits.