Episode Report Card Demian: B+ | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Ow! Quit it. Ow! Quit it.
By Demian | Season 1 | Episode 8 | Aired on 11.24.1998
The Twinkly-Toed Tinkle Of Wacky Wiccan Hijinks: Vin's so dreamy, isn't he?
Demian: He's a slackjawed jackass, and can it. I'm trying to recap, here.
Twinkle-Toes: Someone needs to get laid.
Demian: Fuck off.
Prue and Piper are equally befuddled by this outburst, but neither has time to process it, for Phoebe clomps in at that moment, apologizing for running up the phone bill with all of her fruitless late-night internet research. She also apologizes for cracking on Piper's zit the previous evening. "So you really can't see it?" Piper asks hopefully. Phoebe glances at Piper's chin and snorts, "Like I said: It's huge."
Demian: Not in the face!
Twinkle-Toes: Just a little tap?
Demian: Do it and I'll tap your prancing ass right out the goddamned window.
"Something weird is going on," Piper sagely notes as the Dolt saunters in through the back door.
Twinkle-Toes: "Back door." Snicker.
Demian: Shut UP!
The Dolt tells the Glamorous Ladies that the staircase woodwork should be done that day. Piper and the Feebs make with some more of the competitive flirting before the Dolt lopes back out to his truck. "Here we go again," Piper growls. "Piper," simpers Phoebe, "we both know the only reason I like [the Dolt] is because you do."
Demian: Don't.
Twinkle-Toes: Fine. Try to do a person a favor! Just don't come bitching to me when you can't figure out if they're telling the truth because of the spell, or if they're telling the truth because they actually want to. [Sniffles.] I'm just trying to do my job here!
Demian: Blow it out your flaming ass, Isadora. I'm not a frigging idiot, you know.
Twinkle-Toes: Well, that's certainly open for debate. [Pause.] Got any porn?
Demian: Check the roommate's lair downstairs. And leave that damn mallet here!
Phoebe slams the box of faux Alpha Bits onto the counter and grunts, "I have no idea why I just said that!" She spins on her heel to face Prue and spits, "What's going on?" Prue's all, "Whoops! Gotta go!" and leaps from her chair to bolt out of the kitchen. Phoebe stops her short with a dark threat. Prue winces and babbles, "Icastatruthspellseeya!" before racing into the dining room. Phoebe and Piper howl, "What?" in unison and storm after her.