Episode Report Card Demian: C- | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Mata Whori
By Demian | Season 6 | Episode 13 | Aired on 01.24.2004
Meanwhile, Phoebe enters the shadowy Manor through the front door and places her handbag and coat on the entry table.
Up in the attic, the plasma swirls around Buttfuck for a bit, then dives down through the floor.
Down in the hall, the plasma streams through the ceiling and plunges into the Fun Bags, hurling Phoebe into a post-monition. A World War One-era French infantry brigade readies, aims, and fires as a disembodied female voice screams at them in tones of defiance mixed with panic. When the shots ring out in the post-monition, we cut back to the Manor, where Phoebe absorbs the blast of the phantom bullets and hurtles violently backwards through the air to smash a vase halfway down the hall with her ass before sliding on said ass along the floor to the dining room doorway. Phoebe clutches at her unharmed stomach for a moment before darting her eyes around and wondering aloud, "Qu'est-que c'est?" D'oh!
Manor, a few hours later. Raige orbs into the hallway with Piper, and the two wearily trudge towards the stairs while recapping their adventures at Bondage A Go-Go. As they've located the king, Piper wants to collect Phoebe and return immediately for a vanquish. Raige, yawning, insists on "a hot bath and a warm bed" instead -- after she's checked in with Slampiece Buttfuck, of course. Piper spots the shattered remnants of the vase and wonders, "What happened here?" "Bonjour!" Phoebe calls as she wafts down the stairs in a hideous bra-and-micro-mini set stitched together from swatches of cherry-red sateen, accented with vast swaths of sheer pink and tangerine chiffon. It's deeply hateful. What's even more deeply hateful is that she apparently had this thing hanging in her closet on the off chance she'd ever need clothing appropriate for possession by a long-dead Jazz-Age Eurotrash whore. "What the heck are you wearing?" Piper growls. "Just a little something to help me get my boyfriend back," Phoebe replies. "Showing a little skin never hurt." Millions of viewers at home beg to differ, skank. Piper supposes this means things didn't go well with Chronic the previous evening. "No," Phoebe admits before adding, "Je ne sais pas pourquoi." But instead of pronouncing it "Zhunsaypa," the dumbass goes, "Zhuh-na-say-pas," because Phoebe's a fucking moron, even when she's been possessed by a long-dead Jazz-Age Eurotrash whore. "Since when do you speak Freedom Fry?" Raige smirks. "I don't know," Phoebe airily replies, "and it's kind of weird, actually, considering I hate the French." "No you don't," Piper protests. "You love everything about France." Phoebe seems surprised to hear this, and this is the point where I'd expect both Piper and Raige to realize that something's dreadfully wrong with their sister, but they don't, because they're idiots, and this show sucks. Piper reminds Phoebe that they have a Power of Three vanquish scheduled down at Bondage A Go-Go, but Phoebe just breathes, "I'm sorry, I can't," before floating through the front door to find Chronic. Who's supposed to be on a goddamned plane bound for France right about now. Rrrgh. Piper and Raige rather blankly watch her go. "Please tell me she didn't…" Piper begins. "Cast a spell on herself?" Raige finishes. "I think she did."