Episode Report Card Demian: C+ | 186 USERS: C+ YOU GRADE IT Welcome To Fantathy Thithtern!
By Demian | Season 6 | Episode 6 | Aired on 2003.10.26
Back at the Manor, Big Gay Chris snips a few pieces of Thimon's bloody rag into a copper bowl up in the attic. As he adds other ingredients to whatever he's mixing, the Dolt orbs in to glower, "We need to talk." "Sorry," Big Chris perks dismissively. "Now," the Dolt insists, advancing upon his wayward son with the purloined Valkyrie amulet. Big Chris eyes the necklace for a second, then snickers, "I don't have time for this," as he goes back to his potion. "You had time to kill a Valkyrie," the Dolt accuses, before reminding his son that Whitelighters don't kill people. "But it's all right for an [ever-useless] Elder?" Big Chris sasses. "You have Valkyrie blood on your hands, too." That's my boy. The Dolt protests that he was protecting the Glamorous Ladies, which Big Chris was also doing when he telekinetically squeezed that woman's heart to a pulp, so cram it, Dolt. The Dolt puffs out his chest to announce that he's convened a hearing up in Whitelighterland to decide Big Chris's fate, and he fully expects Big Chris's "soul" to be "sent back down to earth for recycling" by that evening. Big Chris is all, "You do what you have to do, asswipe, but I've got a fucking vanquish to finish." "Why are you making a vanquishing potion?" the Dolt dumbly wonders, as Big Chris siphons some of the mixture into a turkey baster to transfer it to a small vial. "To help the sisters," Chris duhs, turning his back on the Dolt. "Why aren't they making it?" the Dolt demands. "They're busy!" Chris snits, glaring at his dimwit asshole of a father. Hee! The Dolt tries and fails to locate the gals with his supernatural radar. "If I can't sense them," he growls, "that means they're not in this world." "I'm on it!" Chris yells, exasperated. He moves to orb out, but the stupid Dolt restrains him, so Big Chris gets all up in the Dolt's gargantuan face for what follows. "If I don't show up where I'm supposed to be -- alone -- they'll die," Big Chris explains, his patience long gone. The Dolt glares, but he allows Big Chris to orb up through the ceiling. Once Chris is gone, the Dolt spots Thimon's bloody rag on the table, and snatches it up to examine it more closely. Which somehow involves sniffing at the embedded gore. The Dolt is gross.