Episode Report Card Demian: F | 1 USERS: A+ YOU GRADE IT Jesus Is Just Alright With Me
By Demian | Season 7 | Episode 20 | Aired on 05.07.2005
Previously on Are You Ready For An Eighth Season? I Said, ARE YOU READY FOR AN EIGHTH SEASON?, Piper chatted with Raige about the recent changes in the Dolt's life, the Dolt whined to Piper about the recent changes in his life, the Glamorous Ladies gave the whiny and recently changed Dolt Not!warts to run, Phoebe decided to purchase a graduate degree for herself, and Raige was briefly beset by the Dental Drill Of Dreadful Discord before she had a little tête-à-tête with Elizabeth Dennehy atop the Golden Gate Bridge.
Currently on And Great Was The Wailing And Gnashing Of Teeth Across The Land, we fade up on the Manor's two cordless phones lying on the table up in the nonexistent attic while, in the background, Raige flicks a pinch of something or other into the copper potions pot, receives a sparkly yet noxious cloud of smoke in her kisser for her troubles, and swears. "Keep it down!" Piper chides, sashaying into the nonexistent room from the upper stairs. "I just got [poor, neglected, and doomed Tiny Gay] Chris to sleep." "WELL, IF YOU WERE HERE TO HELP ME, THAT WOULD MAYBE, YOU KNOW, HELP," the ever cooperative Raige blares. Shut up, Raige. Piper resists the urge to backhand Raige to the other side of the attic and instead asks for the phone, as she wants to call the dead-eyed, bemulleted Psycho's preschool to make sure her tiny serial killer hasn't taken it upon himself to eviscerate randomly selected groups of his ankle-biting peers yet. Or something like that. Muggy McGowan flaps her arms around in the air and makes yappy noises about the Psycho being safe and sound at Not!warts. Piper patiently reminds her lippy bastard of a half-sister that they informed Raige about the Psycho attending a regular preschool last week. "You didn't tell me that!" Mugs insists before allowing her face to crinkle into a grimace of self-doubt. "Did you?" Piper's all, "Um, yeah, you scatterbrained dumbass, and you said you were worried about him using magic in public." "And what'd you say?" Muggy, like, hunchbacks. Seriously, she drops one shoulder towards the floor, pushes the other one up and over her chest, and nearly squints her right eye shut while goggling with her left. She looks like Peter Lorre the morning after a weeklong cocaine binge in Ensenada. In ropy slutwear. You know, of the three leads on this damned, unkillable show, she really is the one I'm worried about in light of the renewal. I mean, if she's this twitchy now, by this time next year she'll be lurching uncontrollably around the set with an IV of L-Dopa running out of her arm. "I said," Piper drones, clearly irritated at the expository turn the conversation has taken, "I was worried about him having a normal life." Raige takes this opportunity to bitch about her charges, but Piper cares as little about that bullshit as I do and powers around the table to snatch up one of the handsets. "No using the phone!" Raige demands. "I'm trying to prevent a demon attack!" There has been a spate of those recently, you see, and Raige explains that, while each of the recent intruders has displayed different powers, indicating they've likely been of various demonic species, they have all attacked shortly after the phone rang, for some certain-to-be-compelling reason. "No, they don't," Piper disputes. "Phoebe called earlier, and nothing happened." Muggy wrinkles her entire head in despair as her "New Zealand charge" rings her Whitelightery bell, just as one of the cordlesses on the table goes off and I race into the kitchen to slam my head repeatedly with the oven door over the sheer stupidity of it all. It's a lot of clanging going on at the same time, is what I'm saying.
In any event, a strapping young Aberzombie-and-Bitch type in a bomber jacket and sunglasses almost instantly rays into the nonexistent room to conjure a Flaming Ball Of Death atop his right palm, which he then hurls in the gals' direction. Raige and Piper dive towards opposite sides of the table as the FBOD plows between their falling bodies to vanquish a sheaf of paper on the ancient roll-top desk behind them. Hey! What happened to the Dolt's mad crazy reorganization of the nonexistent attic's contents? You know these hateful bitches spent the better part of a week putting everything back where it was. Ingrates. From the floor, Piper hastily flings out one of her mighty Hands of Discontent. The resulting mojo zaps the strapping intruder's inner thigh, and he face-plants into the floorboards with a grunt before pushing himself back up onto his knees. Raige snatches up a handy vanquishing vial and pitches it into the guy's shoulder. Interestingly enough, nothing happens. Raige screams for her sister to redeploy the Hands just as the strapping intruder generates another FBOD. Piper hikes herself up into a sitting position and complies with both, which for some reason propels enough of the mighty mojo to send the strapping intruder on his merrily blazing way down to The Waste Land. Maybe. As his screams slowly echo away, Piper cocks a brow and sings, "You might be right about that phone thing!" before vanishing into the opening credits.