Episode Report Card Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Sex Is Like A Misdemeanor
By Demian | Season 6 | Episode 19 | Aired on 04.24.2004
Out at the late, lamented Andy's old desk, the woman from last night shuffles through some paperwork until Phoebe and Raige approach, addressing her as "Inspector Sheridan" and wondering if they can have a quick word with her. Phoebe immediately gets all up in this woman's face, accusing her of doctoring the images on the videotape in order to frame Detective Doormat. Inspector Sheridan, who resembles a less ethereal Julianne Moore, is all, "And you are?" Upon hearing Phoebe's name, she hmmms and notes that the Halliwells' names pop up repeatedly in Detective Doormat's files. "For the record," she continues, "I didn't fake anything, because I was there undercover, and I saw it go down with my own eyes." "I've been investigating Morris for a few weeks now," she adds as Phoebe and Raige shoot suspicious looks at each other, "trying to figure out why so many of his suspects over the last five years just vanish or mysteriously wind up dead. Now I know: He takes the law into his own hands." And with that, she excuses herself and breezes past the Manor Morons, who gape and jaw at each other until they come to a realization they choose not to share with the audience.
The screen wipes over to an overhead shot of a bustling street market. As the camera cranes back down to ground level, Raige orbs into the middle of the thronging shoppers with the Feebs. The extras as one immediately wig and scream and flail and run for cover, instead of going, "Wow. That's pretty cool. How the hell did you do that?" "I hope this works," Raige grunts before gesturing at a nearby coffee stand, dissolving the thing into a vanishing cloud of orbs as the proprietress and a customer freak and scamper out of the frame. Phoebe spies a nearby flower shop and wings the following spell:
Flowers that bring desire --
Make them turn into fire.
The various bouquets erupt, sending even more extras scattering. Suddenly, everyone save Phoebe and Raige freezes, and sweet Jesus, but this is a crappy green-screen effect. They've superimposed Raige and Phoebe on top of a freeze-frame still of the fleeing crowd, said crowd featuring uncharacteristically blurry limbs and all, but they've neglected to scale the still correctly, so the gals end up being suddenly dwarfed by their supposed surroundings. I hate this show. In any event, the birdbrains, clearly standing on some artificially lit soundstage, turn to spot the two Cleaners from earlier in the season. Phoebe demands to know why they framed the Doormat, and receives the expected obstinate response, so she peevishly reminds them that the Glamorous Ladies of Halliwell Manor "clean up [their] own magical messes." Not this time, you wretch. A supernatural entity or entities yet to be named "anticipated" last night's exposure and, realizing the gals would not have known about it until it was far too late to do anything about it, sent the Cleaners in to tidy up. Phoebe threatens to keep exposing magic until the Doormat is freed. "This will not be like our last encounter, Miss Halliwell," Harvey vows, shutting her up with a simple wave of his hand. Dude, can you teach me that trick? "We're under strict orders not to negotiate with you this time," reveals. "Strict orders from whom?" Raige snits, arms petulantly crossed beneath her chest.