Episode Report Card Demian: B | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Never Was There A Tale Of More Woe!
By Demian | Season 6 | Episode 5 | Aired on 10.18.2003
The camera cuts away from the parlor to super-speed across a craggy landscape before dumping us in Friar Mako's apothecary. Big Gay Chris gingerly removes the Everglades egg from a small sack and passes it to the good Friar. Part Check: Still no part, but no modified pompadour, either. Just a sort of shaggy tangle pulled back from his face. Friar Mako totes the egg over to a bubbling pot, where he cracks it open, dropping the egg's contents into the mix. The pot boils over and expels a gout of flame upwards towards the camera. The flames flare out, and we head…
…back to Castle Montanague, where Raige, clad in her third top of the evening, orbs into the late Lord Montanague's ruined study to find Slampiece Buttfuck dispiritedly examining a potion vial. She chides him for contemplating the use of magic to battle the Callapulets when he'd promised himself not to. Buttfuck rails about his dead dad and his dead fiancée and blah wah tragedy-cakes before barreling towards the door. Raige slyly orbs out into the hallway to block his passage with a smile. "You have two choices," she brightly states, crossing her arms to show she means business. "Either you can go over to [Incontinence Estates] and use your considerable influence -- not to mention your fairly neutral reputation -- and bring them to the peace table, or I can orb your butt down to Purgatory, and you can spend all of eternity getting a lovely sunburn!" "You're crazy!" Buttfuck counters. "Quite possibly," Raige allows. "More importantly: I'm actually serious. It's the only way to end the feud -- it's what Olivia would have wanted, right?" Buttfuck mulls this over while the camera scampers over to a nearby framed photo of Buttfuck and Olivia in happier times. The photographic image of Olivia's head morphs into her ghostly visage, and her ghostly visage is pissed.
Back at the Manor, the Dolt lopes into the kitchen with Raige's bloodstained white top, which he presents to Piper for inspection before dropping it into a simmering pot on the center island. Piper's working some heretofore-unheard-of mojo on the blouse to learn if Raige was hit with a Flaming Ball Of Whatever The Fuck I'm Supposed To Call These Things Now That Cole's Dead, or if the Flaming Ball was actually something else. The Dolt, trying his best to sound casual but ending up sounding desperate and lonely -- like, blow it out your ass, you pathetic piece of garbage -- asks, "So…how was your date?" "Short," is Piper's curt reply. "You mean, like, leprechaun short?" the Dolt teases. Piper allows a smile and explains that her date "was cut short" by their current crisis. There's a bit more of this before Piper gasps and points to Raige's soaked blouse, which has begun to glow. "It's getting lighter," she exclaims, "which means [Raige] was not hit by a [FBOWTF-Demian's-STCTTNTCD] -- she was hit by a plasma ball, and plasma only occurs on the spiritual plane." Ooo-kay, hon. We'll go with that. Phoebe barges in to announce that the Montanagues and Callapulets have arrived. Piper steers the dimwit and the ex-husband atticwards for a séance.