Episode Report Card Demian: C+ | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT This is the way the season ends
By Demian | Season 4 | Episode 22 | Aired on 05.15.2002
"See?" Raige smirks. "No major disaster struck." Tell that to the Dolt's ass, sweetie, and say hello to the Cleansing Burst Of Synchronicity while you're at it, for barely have the words left Raige's lips when Phoebe clomps through the front door, braying about the Tashmin incident at the office. Phoebe flops onto a sofa and strips off her pink jacket. The Fun Bags jiggle, unencumbered by proper foundation garments, beneath a sky-blue scoop-necked sleeveless top with small matching fabric flowers tracing a line from her right shoulder down through her cleavage. Also: NIPPLES. They look like they could cut glass, and I'm finding it difficult to focus on what she's saying. Not because I find this sort of lewd display tantalizing, mind you, but because the NIPPLES seem to be tracing a message of their own in the air. For a moment, I try to interpret what they're etching into the air above Phoebe's lap. Then I beat myself repeatedly in the head with a handy hardcover copy of the Norton Anthology, realizing that if I've reached the point where I'm trying to interpret the NIPPLES' gay dance on my TV screen, it's long past time I checked myself into the psychiatric ward at Illinois Masonic. Piper wonders "how [Cole] is holding on" despite the mighty vanquish the gals leveled on his fine ass two weeks ago. It's called "a signed contract for Season Five," Piper. The Dolt supposes that, because Cole was merely half-demon, he might be trapped in some sort of "astral plane." Whatever it is, Phoebe's determined to find a way to contact him so that she can convince him to knock it off already with the spectral whisperings and the ghostly possessions of faux psychics. Raige is convinced that Cole's love for Phoebe prevents him from moving on and out of all our lives for good. Phoebe mumbles something in response as the ambient chittering of a helicopter hits the soundtrack. As that noise threatens to overwhelm the conversation, another sound, like that of a golf ball getting sucked into a metal vacuum hose, whoomps through the air. The noise from the chopper vanishes, and the Dolt stiffens into a freeze behind Piper. NO! Not like that. God! As if the NIPPLES weren't bad enough. Jesus.
Piper waves her hand in front of the Dolt's face, getting no response. Raige crosses again to the window and peers out at the street. "Um, guys?" she stammers. "I think you ought to take a look at this." Piper and Phoebe edge to Raige's side as the shot cuts to a Glamorous Ladies P.O.V. The entire road crew has frozen as well, and they're in a helpfully obvious array of various mid-toss poses, such as the gentleman in the midst of shoveling a spadeful of sand off to one side. The shot pans across the sky, taking in a frozen pigeon and the helicopter, silently suspended in the air. Raige mistakenly believes that Piper's responsible. Piper rightly claims she couldn't possibly toss a freeze that affects so large an area. "But I can," announces a mildly fey voice from the parlor behind them. The ladies spin around to find a great, muumuued marshmallow of a gentleman whose massive man-teats threaten to give the Fun Bags a run for their money. "I'm the Angel Of Destiny," he announces. The man-teats sway from side to side as he lumbers towards the shrinking Ps. "And I've come to change yours." Raige straightens her spine in amazement, Piper tilts her head back to peer at the intruder through suspicious, slitted lids, and Phoebe cowers like the goofy little dipshit she is as we slide into the opening credits.