Episode Report Card Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT The Phantom Of The Maggot Neck Is Here
By Demian | Season 8 | Episode 6 | Aired on 10.29.2005
Starting with the very next godawful bit, in fact. Back at the Manor, The Retarded Bimbo hits the main stairwell's lower landing and then, for no reason whatsoever, vaults herself into a slow-motion backflip over the banister to land in the foyer below. Asshole. She vanishes through the front door to head back over to...
...that earlier alleyway, where The Phantom Of The Crappy Subplot is pushing a terrified-looking blonde thing out of her flip-flops and up a brick wall with his Chris Of The Spider Woman claw, and this makes absolutely no fucking sense at all. No, I'm not talking about someone wearing flip-flops in San Francisco in October, though that's asinine in and of itself. I'm actually referring to what happens after the blonde morphs into demonic form. The demon The Phantom has by the neck vows, "I'll see you in The Waste Land!" before glowing purple and simply vanishing into The Phantom's Chris Of The Spider Woman claw, and no you won't, you jackass, because first of all...oh fuck it. There are only so many times in one season that I can rant about a particular continuity fuck up -- the number of said times being one -- and I covered The Waste Land two episodes ago. Long story short, The Retarded Bimbo arrives to annoy every single living thing on the planet with her lisping and her attitude and her maggoty neck and sweet Jesus, I want to die, but first I suppose I have to tell you that she hurls one of the vanquishing vials at The Phantom, who telekinetically slings it over into his henchdude's chest. Sayonara, henchdude. The Phantom then whips another Flaming Ball Of Death, but The Retard pulls an annoying, Matrix-y dodge to avoid the thing before pitching vial after vial at The Phantom's torso. The last bottle to shatter seems to finish him off, and a triumphant Retard simpers out of the alleyway.
Not!warts Library, and D'OH! The Phantom Of The Crappy Subplot's simply made a tactical retreat, you see. "I've got a score to settle!" he seethes, after flambéing one of his remaining henchdemons and sending the other two fleeing from the room. That might be true, but first you have to vanish into another commercial break, doll.
Manor parlor, the following morning, and Phoebe's unfettered Fun Bags are vibrating lewdly beneath a grey-toned tube top and I certainly can't take anymore of that, and Raige is no goddamned help at all when she squeezes past the reporters who are still in a gangbang on the front porch even though they should have been arrested for trespassing yesterday, and what the hell have these two women been babbling at each other about for the last five minutes? Oh, yeah: Raige's little stunt last night in Seth's bedroom has had quite the unintended effect of leading him to ramp up his printed speculations and accusations, as evidenced by that morning's headline in All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me, which he would have written last night before he left the office to head back to his cluttered bachelor flat to suck down half a bottle of whiskey and pass out in his cold and lonely bed, so SHUT UP, SHOW. In other news, Vexzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. The Dolt enters during all of this with an angry red bruise on his face and stomps off into the kitchen to yell at Piper. Raige, meanwhile, decides to "call in the big guns," and orbs out through the ceiling. Phoebe gazes sadly into her coffee cup before the shot cuts back into the kitchen, where the Dolt's just admitted he got all manly at The Preschool Of The Damned and punched out a photographer who'd pushed his camera into The Psycho's face. Piper, flabbergasted, icily wonders what he thought he would accomplish through such action. "I was trying to protect our son!" he cries, and Dolt, really. If anyone needed protection in that situation, it was the foolish photographer who dared assault that dead-eyed serial killer you've been harboring in your home for the last two years. The Dolt gets all pouty again and starts spouting some garbage about being powerless, like, it was your choice, honey, so zip it. Piper hasn't a clue what's gotten into him and says as much, so the Dolt stomps out of the room in a huffy snit. "Don't you walk away from me!" Piper shrews, storming after him. "Watch me," the off-screen Dolt grumbles. Heh.