The Bay Mirror. Phoebe, employing the handle "Cinderella29," chats online with Cyrano73. He asks for a date. She tells him to go to hell. Is this episode over yet? It isn't? Damn. Phoebe's non-Mary Cherry assistant interrupts with some bad news: Chronic hated the first draft of Phoebe's dating article, has sent it back crimson with corrections, and would appreciate a rewrite by close of business. Phoebe, apoplectic with rage that someone would dare criticize her prose, storms into Chronic's office, hikes up her pants, and there goes my lunch. Along with my ability to focus on anything that follows. I'd been ignoring The Pants, you see, and doing quite a good job of it, too, but now? Forget it. My eyes are riveted on Phoebe's crotch, and yes, it is indeed exactly like staring into the face of Satan. Thanks for asking. "Blah blibbety blah blah wah," bleats the Feebs. "Wah wibbety wah wah blah," snaps Chronic. Phoebe's Cooter picks its teeth with a letter opener. At some point, Chronic insists that Phoebe and The Cooter join him "on assignment" that evening at six, so Chronic can convince them that online dating is A Very Good Thing. Phoebe rolls her eyes in aggravation as Chronic strides past her into the main office. Scene.
Over in Munchkinland, the leprechauns have gathered in a sun-dappled clearing to hold a midget processing summit, which they conduct in Irish accents so appallingly horrific, I want to take The Cooter's letter opener and plunge it into my ears. The evening this episode originally aired, I suffered a minor psychotic break within seconds of this scene's first line. In a desperate attempt to preserve what little remains of my overall sanity, my brain decided to shut itself down, blocking all sensory input from the TV set until the camera finally switched back over to the Manor. To prevent that from happening again, I've muted the sound, so you'll have to bear with me as I recap this scene using the captioning alone. Most of the midgets want to hide from Big Bad Greg. One of these wee lads was the A-plot victim on a recent C.S.I., and another I recognize from one of ER's Christmas episodes. Unfortunately, neither of these gentleman is tonight's lead little person. That honor goes to the one they're calling Seamus. The captioning's misspelling it as "Shamus," by the way, which is funny because of the whole killer-whale connection. Seamus is a fiery Italian who wants his fellow dwarfs to "pool [their] luck" to fight Greg. No, seriously -- the actor's Italian. I checked. Though I suppose we should all be thankful that Crackhead Brad didn't grant the role to the Korean dwarf who's been lurking in the corner of the frame throughout this scene. After a bit of predictable back and forth on the overall issue, Seamus rallies the troops with a heartfelt call to arms or something and the scene finally ends.
Manor attic. Raige smoothes her shrunken and stained sweater on the table, then reads the following from a slip of paper:
Personal loss
Should not be mine.
Restore this sweater
And make it fine!