Previously on Charmed, the last four weeks. But not necessarily in that order. Or so they would have us believe.
Currently on Charmed, Raige flips a map down on the table up in the nonexistent attic, narrating, "Okay, three dead innocents in three weeks, all near Memorial Hospital," and if they were all near Memorial Hospital, you've severely mismarked the map, you moron. The three little red dots she's applied to the thing, you see, arc around The California Pacific Medical Center Davies Campus, with one on Sanchez Street at 15th, one on Alpine Terrace at 14th, and the third on Hermann Street and Steiner. This show blows even when they manage to toss out an almost non-sucky episode. In any event, The Retarded Bimbo's quite eager to go on a vanquishing tear in the general vicinity of The California Pacific Memorial Medical Center Davies Campus Hospital, but Raige shoots this idea down cold. The Retard's to survey the area for clues as to the identity of the dark demonic force responsible for the deaths, and nothing more. The Retarded Bimbo objects strenuously to this restriction, but Raige and her NIPPLES are quite firm on this point. Errm. Points? Oh, whatever. Either turn up the heat or put on a bra, you skank. The Retard won't let the matter drop, however, and gets loud about how the Glamoured Glamorous Idiots have been "holding [her] back" for weeks, suggesting in the process that perhaps Raige and her sisters would rather be battling the forces of evil themselves. Mugs McGowan vehemently denies this accusation, and once more insists that The Retard embark on a surveillance mission only and leave the vanquishing for a later point in time. The Retard's all, "Fine. WHATEVER, spaz!" and clomps over towards the stairs to exit. Raige, sucking on her teeth with her tongue, spins to watch The Retard go, but something makes her call out, "[Retard]! Empty those pockets!" The Retard feigns ignorance for a moment, in the process allowing her jaw to hang open like the dimwitted mouthbreather she truly is, before complying with Raige's command, setting three potion vials and a set of brass knuckles down on the desk near the door while pouting, "You guys are so not fun." With that, she vanishes down the stairs, leaving The Lippy Spastic alone to twitch about wordlessly in the center of the nonexistent room like she's Michael J. Fox on crank.
We get a replay of that brief, super-speed, scattershot San Francisco montage they used in an episode whose name I have long since thankgodfully forgotten, before landing somewhere on the Paramount backlot in Los Angeles, where a Latino gent in a disheveled suit stands on the sidewalk, screaming something about a car accident and his injured and pregnant wife as hundreds of utterly unconcerned pedestrians pass him by, before some fat guy finally stops to help. The screamy Latino directs Porky down the street into an alleyway -- which is certain to be dank, forbidding, and of doom, if you know what I mean -- and so Fatty Fatty Two-By-Four waddles off as fast as his overburdened legs can carry him. The screamy Latino, meanwhile, lingers for a long and calming moment on the pavement in front of a blue directional street sign for The California Pacific Memorial Medical Center Davies Campus HOSPITAL before raising his left hand into the air while practically rolling his eyes into the back of his head. A swirling, swarming cloud of what appear to be supernaturally flying fire ants quickly materializes and zips after the offscreen Hogzilla. The no longer screamy and in fact quite sinister Latino smears out. From the middle of a sidewalk thronging with evidently unconcerned passersby. This show. Jesus.
Back in The Dank And Forbidding Alleyway Of Porcine Doom, Hogzilla hits a dead end and maneuvers his massive bulk around just in time to get a faceful of supernaturally flying fire ants. Ooops.
Out on the street, which is Union, which is nowhere near the coordinates Raige identified on the map up in the nonexistent attic, and this show sucks, and I want to die, The Retarded Bimbo rather conveniently pulls over to the curb in Raige's Volkswagen just as the attack begins, and I really don't think it's such a good idea for the state of California to issue drivers licenses to the developmentally disabled, do you? But that's neither here nor there at the moment, for The Retard's just now picking up on Hogzilla's shrieks of agony and terror. We cut briefly into the alleyway, where we see several of the supernaturally flying fire ants "slicing" through both Hogzilla's workshirt and jeans and the alarmingly ample flesh beneath. The Retard races into the alleyway, takes quick stock of the improbable situation, and immediately slams a couple of the supernaturally flying fire ants with her telekinetic mojo, blasting them into a stretch of corrugated metal and a chain-link fence, respectively, where the force of the impact causes them to explode. The remaining fire ants, presumably enraged, swarm over to dive-bomb The Retard instead. She starts punching and kicking at them before snapping her fingers closed around the wings of one, and in the close-up that follows, we can see that the wee ruddy little things are basically well-groomed flying monkeys with razor-sharp claws. The Retard bimbos something obvious about the creature's appearance until she's sliced by one of his little friends. She howls in pain and releases the tiny monkey, who rejoins the rest of his swarm to zip away around the corner. The Retarded Bimbo, clutching at her injured arm, clatters over to help Hogzilla to his feet before pushing all eighteen tons of him out of the alleyway and towards the hospital.
In a car out on the street, the eyes attached to a ginormous cleft chin peer -- through a pair of binoculars -- at The Retard leading Hogzilla down Union Street in the direction of The California Pacific Memorial Medical Center Davies Campus HOSPITAL. The binoculars lower, and Cleft Man is revealed to be the Homeland Security department's Agent Murphy, who, as you'll recall, was left behind in San Francisco during the season premiere to monitor possible Halliwell-related paranormal activity. He's far more attractive than I remember him being, but then again, I've been forced through four episodes in a row in which the only available eye candy has been Vex Pexter and the Dolt, which no, and NEVER, and so Agent Murphy's looking pretty goddamned good to yours truly at the moment, despite that gargantuan crevice in his massive lantern jaw. After staring at The Retarded Bimbo's retreating form for a long minute, Murphy's ginormous cleft chin pokes itself into the opening credits.
Fade up on the Manor's nighttime façade. Up in the Bridal Boudoir, Piper applies lip liner in front of the mirror above her dresser while nattering something at The Lippy Spastic about their asinine shared subplot for the evening. It involves a "speed dating" session at the once-again-failing P3, and so I'll be ignoring all of it unless and until something of import pops up as a result. Which, you know, just to give you fair warning, won't happen until Raige decides to hook up with one of the so-called "desperate" losers at the event. Oh, crap. Forgot about this part: When Raige continues to protest Piper "pimping [Raige] out," Piper tartly replies, "What, do you want to be homeless? Because that's what's gonna happen if we lose our only source of income." So either Phoebe's donating her time at All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me, or the selfish hag's been blowing her entire salary on $250 haircuts and Crate & Barrel candle binges, or the bitch simply isn't contributing to the Manor's general fund, and whatever it is, I hate her.
The Dolt enters at this point with New And Supposedly Improved Tiny Gay Chris, who's rather adorably clad in a bright red bedtime romper. The Dolt passes through the boudoir into The Former Patricia Campbell Hearst Commemorative Child-Care Nook in search of "baby Tylenol" just so the effects department can show off a little bit by having his glamoured self pass with the infant between Glamour Piper and Glamour Raige in an into-the-mirror shot while the trio's regular selves remain in the foreground of the frame. It comes across as well-done, if only because it passes so quickly that the audience has no time to notice any possible mistakes. After expositing that The Psycho's over at Grandpa's for the evening, the Dolt passes back into the hallway so Phoebe can jiggle in and play around in front of the looking glass while announcing to all and sundry that she's ovulating at the moment and so intends to trick Vex Pexter into impregnating her during an impromptu trip that evening to Napa, and gross, and I never needed to know about the current condition of your ovaries ever, hag, and HATE. As Phoebe disappears into The Former Patricia Campbell Hearst Commemorative Child-Care Nook to swipe some of Piper's luggage for the impregnation, Raige delicately reminds Phoebe that the latter's much-despised elevator premonition involved Phoebe marrying Vex, not deliberately misleading him in order to get herself knocked up. "One step at a time!" Phoebe blares from the depths of the closet. Holly Marie Combs amusingly bugs Piper's eyes out in horror and disbelief at this. Hee. After Phoebe obliviously crosses out of the room with an overnight bag, Raige sighs, "Is that what we've been reduced to? Loveless sex? Pimping?" "Yes," Piper deadpans. Heh.
At that moment, The Retarded Bimbo appears in the hallway from the nonexistent attic above. Piper leaps to her feet to invite The Retard into her asinine speed dating subplot that I don't care about, so I'll skip ahead to the point where The Retard lies about that afternoon's events to note that, when Raige wonders how everything went, The Retard lies about that afternoon's events. What? Shut it. These idiots need to stop with the incessant babbling all the time and start kicking some ass again, or they're going to watch their ratings disintegrate even further than those numbers already have this season. In any event, The Retard too-eagerly volunteers to head downstairs to answer the conveniently ringing doorbell, and as she passes The Prue Halliwell Memorial Bimbo Boudoir Of Paisley Tit Slings And Other Fashion Atrocities, currently occupied by Phoebe, she pauses to examine the bandage she's placed on her flying-monkey-inflicted injury from the pre-credits sequence. The suspicious Feebs, having witnessed this from the shadows of her room, calls out, "Uhhh, [Raige]?"
Down in the foyer, The Retarded Bimbo swings open the front door to find Agent Murphy on the front porch and my, but he's tall. Pity about the scary near-mini-mullet he's working on the back of his head, but that's easily fixed, right? Murph whips out his identification and casually informs the slackjawed retard, "We need to talk." The screen flares white to smash us over to...
...Not!warts. I think. I mean, it's definitely the Not!warts set, but I'm not sure if we're meant to believe the screamy demonic Latino from the pre-credits sequence is currently in residence at the actual school or not. Not that it really matters, I suppose, for we're just here to get the skinny on tonight's Nefarious Demonic Plot For World Domination, which is actually a Nefarious Demonic Plot For Neighborhood Domination. The screamy demonic Latino, "Antosis" by name, has contracted with a bespectacled, nebbishy lesser fiend known only as "The Imp Master" to slaughter -- and I'm guessing, here, based on past episodes -- five innocents at various appropriate map coordinates surrounding The California Pacific Memorial Medical Center Davies Campus HOSPITAL On Union Street so that Antosis might reign supreme over a five-square-block subsection of San Francisco. Don't look at me like that. I'm not the hack who's coming up with these idiotic plot points. And would you believe this loser's vanquish requires the Power of Three? Oy. Not that I really care much about any of this, mind you, though it is refreshing to have this Nefarious Demonic Plot exist solely to propel the sisters' far larger issues along, rather than the other way around. I can't remember the last time that happened.
Meanwhile, back at the Manor, Agent Murphy admits he's been trailing The Retarded Bimbo for quite some time now. The Retard plays dumb. Well, you know. Dumber. "I'm just trying to solve a mystery, here," Murphy explains, "and in the process? Maybe save a few innocent lives. But I'm gonna need your help to do that." The Retard gapes. Shut up, Retard. "I'm gonna need you," Murphy continues, "to come clean about what it is that brought you here and what you know about the Halliwell sisters." The Retard's all, "The Halli-whos?" which is the most pathetic dodge imaginable since, you know, she's living in their fucking house, but whatever, because the ever increasingly attractive Agent Murphy mercifully cuts the scene short by pressing his business card into The Retard's hands and urging her to call soon.
After he's loped out the front door, The Retard heaves a tremendously put-upon sigh and spins around to find herself beset by the Glamoured Glamorous Idiots, who arrive on the main floor to pepper The Retard with questions regarding the gentleman who just left. Long story short, The Retard admits that Agent Murphy is from Homeland Security and might have seen something that afternoon near the hospital, as the bimbo was forced to battle these flying monkey things called "imps" that report to an "Imp Master" who's working for a yet-to-be-determined upper-level demon, which, you know, WE ALREADY SAW, SO WHY ARE YOU WASTING ALL OF THIS TIME TELLING US ABOUT IT ALL OVER AGAIN, SHOW? The news, naturally, sends the Glammed Glam Gals into a frenzied tizzy, with Piper eventually deciding that the best response to this latest crisis is...no response at all, actually. She and Raige are to traipse off to their asinine subplot the following evening as planned, and Phoebe should head up to Napa with Vex -- who, incidentally, is due to arrive at any moment. Phoebe rolls her eyes around and whines something about no longer being in the mood for impregnation before vanishing into the kitchen. Zip it, hag. "So much for happily ever after," Raige shrugs. You too, bitch. The camera lingers on The Retard's dismayed expression for a bit -- and girl really needs to do something about those black roots of hers -- before cutting up to...
...the nonexistent attic, where we find The Retarded Bimbo rashly abusing the Book of Shadows in search of a spell to -- as she narrates aloud for the benefit of her developmentally challenged brethren in the rapidly dwindling audience -- "fix this." She flips past the "To Call A Lost Witch" entry, and something that promises "To Promote Compromise" -- like, where the hell was that one when Shannen Doherty and Alyssa Milano were going at it with bared claws five years ago? -- before landing on a "sleep spell" she briefly considers using on Murphy. (For the obsessives in the audience, it reads, "Poppy, yar, and brisbane steep / To make a potion for potent sleep." Just so you know.) We get a good, long look at the entry devoted to the Dragon Warlock, defined as "The Twisted Spawn of a Dragon and Sorceress" whose "STRENGTH OF A HUNDRED MEN" makes him "Perhaps the most feared and Powerful Witch Killer there is." I think the Dragon Warlock needs to hook up with the Dread Bunyip sometime soon for an all-out assault on the Manor Morons. That would rule. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. The Retard eventually hits a page entitled "To Make A Lovers [sic] Dream Come True" which, for some bizarre reason, is illustrated with The Sacred Heart Of Jesus: Thorns, fire, cross -- all but the dripping blood, actually. The Retard instantly decides it's perfect for the Feebs. As the doorbell rings far below to herald Vex Pexter's anticipated arrival, The Retard hustles the Book from the stand over to the potions table at the other end of the nonexistent room.
Foyer. Phoebe. Vex. NIPPLES. Yawn. Phoebe prepares to cancel their trip to Napa.
At that very moment, The Retard recites the following before flinging a pinch of something into the smoking copper potions pot:
Hear these words, hear my rhyme:
Bless these two in this time.
Bring them both into the fold,
Help them now cross love's threshold.
The pot erupts.
Down in the foyer, Phoebe's NIPPLES apologize profusely for bailing on the Napa trip with so little notice. The instant she crosses the Manor's actual threshold to join Vex on the porch, however, twinkly sprays of glowy golden mojo erupt at their feet to race up their bodies. They stare, dazed, at each other for a second before lunging into a frantic kiss that would be passionate if these two idiots had any chemistry whatsoever. Or, you know, if dreary Vex had an actual personality to speak of. "What are we waiting for?" Phoebe beams. "I don't know," Vex replies. "Let's go!" he adds, grabbing at Phoebe's hands and yanking her off the front porch into the commercial break.
The following...morning? When the hell is this scene supposed to be taking place? Oh, wait a minute. It's Piper and Raige's asinine speed dating subplot, so I don't care when this scene is supposed to be taking place, do I? Long story short, after being a total bitch to every last employee at the nightclub, Piper shrews at the doorman to let the asinine speed daters in. The Lippy Spastic twitches. And...scene.
Manor porch, where we find Phoebe's premonition from the season premiere playing out in real time, and D'OH! The Retarded Bimbo's love spell backfired, you see, and Phoebe and Vex eloped. After he rented a tuxedo and found an all-night flower shop to buy a boutonniere, apparently, and after she had several fittings for that complicated lace, net, silk and tulle concoction she's wearing. Stupid show. And I can't say I wasn't expecting this. Given the fact that it was announced long ago that Jason Lewis was signed for a mere six episodes, Phoebe's premonition could only have played out as the result of wacky Wiccan hijinks, right? That or through skipping forward six months between episodes as they did to accommodate Piper's second pregnancy, and we all knew that wasn't going to happen. So, you know. Whatever. Vex addresses her as "Mrs. Lawson," and it took me a good three minutes to realize he meant "Mrs. Pexter." Phoebe retrieves a house key from beneath the porch's welcome mat and unlatches the front door that hasn't been locked since the first season. Vex playfully hoists Phoebe into his arms to carry her across the threshold. Well, "playfully" -- he's utterly incapable of displaying such an emotion, as he's entirely lacking in the personality department. Anyway, the instant Vex enters the house, of course, that twinkly spray of glowy golden mojo erupts once more at his feet to course upwards through their bodies, thereby eliminating the effects of the spell. Phoebe looks confused. Vex, equally perplexed, promptly dumps her on her bony ass on the floor. Heh. Vex snaps out of it and helps Phoebe to her feet, where she lights into him for dropping her before stammering to a horrified halt as she realizes what they're wearing. "Did we just do what I think we did?" Vex dims. Phoebe phreaks.
Up in the nonexistent attic, The Retarded Bimbo jots down a few notes arising from her latest round of Book abuse as Phoebe tears into the nonexistent room to demand, "What did you do to me?" The Retard goggles.
P3, and hello, asinine speed dating montage I do not have to recap in any real detail whatsoever! Various chronically mismatched couples natter away at the tables while a couple of abject douchebags toss insipid and clichéd pick-up lines in Raige's general direction. Piper looks on approvingly, for she is an asshole this evening. Eventually, an Australian male model nearly ten years Rose McGowan's junior sits across from Raige, and flirting ensues. This will become important later. The flirting, not the age difference, nor the male model's nation of origin. Just so you're clear on that point. Meanwhile, over at the bar, a reporter from No. Magazine arrives to schedule an interview with Glamour Piper for reasons about which I could not care less, right before Piper's cell phone rings. We hear only Piper's side of the conversation, which goes something like this: "Hello? [Pause.] [Retard] did what?!" Heh. thing we know, Piper's dragging Raige into a heated conference at one side of the dance floor. Raige, on the verge of getting some for the first time in months, flatly refuses to return to the Manor and jerks around to return to her seat. Piper rolls her eyes and growls, but she does allow herself a small smile when she notes how well her bastard of a half-sister's speed date seems to be going. Just as Piper heads out of the frame, the camera cuts back to the bar to take in Agent Murphy's scary near-mini-mullet for a second before turns his head to eye Glamour Piper as she exits the club. Tense strings thrum on the soundtrack for some reason, but tense strings alone do not a DUN! make, no matter what this stupid show would have you believe.
Manor. Vex ambles aimlessly through the front hall as the sounds of a screaming bitchfest reach his ears from the nonexistent attic far above his head. Heh. Glamour Piper arrives through the front door, meets Vex Pexter for the very first time, and quietly excuses herself upstairs to deal with the howling catfight currently in progress. Glamour Dolt then wanders in from the kitchen with New And Supposedly Improved Tiny Gay Chris to wonder, "Who are you?" "Ummmm," Vex offers by way of response.
Nonexistent Attic. In the screechy caterwauling that follows, Phoebe and Piper rip The Retarded Bimbo a new one for deploying a spell to such disastrous result, much as one would expect them to do. Despite a couple of amusing moments from Milano and Combs -- particularly from the latter, when Piper makes note of Phoebe's enormous diamond wedding ring -- nothing progresses until The Retard blurts out in her own defense, "[Phoebe] was supposed to get married anyways, right?" "Normally, not magically!" Phoebe shrieks from her frilly perch on Aunt Pearl's sofa. Among other things, The Retard demands, "How do you know?", which shuts Phoebe up and sets her to pondering. The argument continues to rage between Piper and The Retard until Phoebe interjects with, "Maybe she's right." Piper and The Retard whip their heads around at her for an instant before The Retard shoots Piper a "Told you so!" grimace. Piper glares, clearly mere seconds away from unleashing the Mighty Hands Of Discontent on The Retarded Bimbo's oddly proportioned ass, before Phoebe continues, "I mean, maybe this is how it was supposed to happen -- how else would you explain me and [Vex] getting married so quickly?" A six-month time jump, hag. See above. "I'm confused," Piper grunts. "Are we mad at [The Retard] or not?" "We're not," Phoebe quietly allows. The Retard jogs a quick victory lap around the nonexistent room, like, SHUT UP, BIMBO, before blathering on and on about innocents and the imp demons and The Imp Master and wah. Piper and Phoebe tell her to can it. The Glamoured Glamorous Idiots simply cannot risk exposure at this point in time. As opposed to all of the other times when theycouldrisk it, I suppose. Whatever.
Meanwhile, over on the Paramount backlot, Antosis tricks another innocent -- this one a nurse, I believe -- into entering a Dank And Forbidding Alleyway Of Doom. Antosis waits to deploy the flying monkeys until after the nurse has disappeared around the corner, because the show's dramatically reduced budget can't cover another attack, and so the hapless nurse dies her bloody death offscreen. Nurse-slicing complete, the bitty little flying monkeys swarm back out into the street, where they merge with the body of The Imp Master, who'd been hiding this entire time in a deep, dark doorway. The demons sneer something sinister and desperately unimportant at one another before vanishing into the commercial break.
Manor. Up on the second floor, Phoebe and Piper emerge from Phoebe's version of Prue Memorial to pedebabble about Vex. Phoebe's changed out of her wedding gown, by the way, and is now in some sort of low-cut, shapeless, cranberry-colored atrocity that appears to be made of velour. Eeesh. Anyway, by the time the gals reach the main floor, Phoebe's decided to see her bizarre marriage through, or something. Just then, they hear a series of manly hoots and yodels coming from the sun porch, where the Dolt, still cuddling New And Supposedly Improved Tiny Gay Chris, is watching a football game with Vex. Tiny Gay Chris is staring at his new Uncle Vex, all, "Ohmigod, would you please do something about your awful, evil hair already, you tedious fuckwit?" And speaking of Uncle Vex, here, I suppose I should remind everyone of the fact that the masking spell from the premiere specified that it would "Hide [them] well and thoroughly, / But not from those [they] call family." Given that, Vex is not now able to see these people for whom they really are...why, exactly? Oh, that's right: Because this show sucks, and it should have been cancelled last May, and why didn't they cancel it last May, and I want to die. The brief scene that follows between the gals and the boys exists solely to establish that Phoebe knows absolutely nothing about her new husband -- specifically, that he played football in college, but Alyssa Milano does have a nice little moment wherein she makes it clear that her character's lack of insight into her new mate goes far beyond that. Piper takes her leave to head back to her asinine subplot for the evening, but not before dragging the Dolt out into the foyer to warn him to give Phoebe and Vex as much space as they need to work things out. The Dolt, you see, had instantly developed a disturbingly amusing boycrush on Vex when he learned of the latter's supposed prowess on the gridiron, and Piper wants to make sure her alarmingly smitten husband leaves the new brother-in-law alone. Well, that's what I got out of it, at any rate. Heh.
Back on the sun porch, not only is Phoebe wearing cranberry-colored velour, but she's also accessorized that dreadful gaffe with a pair of mid-calf cowboy boots. In brown. Jackass. What's that? You'd rather know what they're talking about? Well, the hell with you, because he's a terminally boring cipher with no discernable personality, and she's...she's wearing velour, for Christ's sake. Basically, he offers to have the marriage -- about which neither remembers anything -- annulled, but she, citing her belief that everything happens for a reason, convinces him to stick with it for a bit. Scene.
P3, and funny moment alert! I thought you should know in advance so you don't keel over in shock when it finally arrives. Down in the vacant club office, Raige and Slampiece Jailbait bang through the door, locked at the lips and ripping at each other's clothes. He hoists her up onto the desk -- and I'd protest the impending bout of vile desk sex on Piper's behalf were she not known for doing the same damn thing herself -- and the two go at it until Raige pants, "Okay, wait! I think we should slow this down a little." Slampiece Jailbait exhales before offering, "Why don't you tell me a little bit more about yourself." "Well," Raige begins, "I, uh…oh, screw it," she concludes, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and hauling him forward into another sloppy kiss. Ha! Raige The Slampiece Magnet is far more entertaining than Raige The Lippy Bastard Of A Spastically Directionless Half-Sister, isn't she? Things are going well for Raige until Slampiece Jailbait gasps mid-kiss, "God, you're beautiful, Jo." Raige snaps away from him suddenly at that and, with a sudden look of wistful sadness on her face, gazes at him silently until he wonders what's wrong. Raige slowly slides herself onto her feet to shoot a glance at her glamoured reflection in the mirror on the wall opposite, and in that moment makes a realization about herself that does not seem to bode well for her ongoing masquerade as one of the cousins Bennett. Before we learn exactly what that realization is, however, she apologizes to Slampiece Jailbait for being such a pricktease and assures him he did nothing wrong. He's remarkably polite about the whole situation and simply watches her as she exits the office. And she's just left him alone with God knows how many thousands of dollars' worth of the nightclub receipts. No wonder the damn place is going bankrupt again, you dimwits.
Manor. The Retarded Bimbo hustles over to the door of Prue Memorial and proceeds to rouse everyone in the entire goddamned house, presumably, when she starts pounding on the wood and refuses to stop until Phoebe answers. The Retard then runs through the results of her latest round of Book abuse, correctly identifying Antosis as the Demon of the Week and filling Phoebe in on the required Power of Three vanquish. Phoebe, quietly weary after the day she's had, speaks on behalf of all three Glamoured Glamorous Idiots when she again refuses to get involved, citing the risk of exposure. The Retarded Bimbo howls something snotty about the gals giving up on the good fight, or whatever, which leads Phoebe to admit, tiredly yet softly, that the whole "maintaining secret identities while avoiding Destiny" thing has ended up not being that "easy" on the Manor Morons. The Retard couldn't care less, and stomps off in a huff. Vex pokes his head out from the boudoir to ask, "Is everything all right?" "No," Phoebe sighs, staring down the hall at The Retard's oddly proportioned and diminishing form, "it's not all right." Vex reaches out to pat her on the arm as Phoebe slowly shakes her head into the commercial break.
Later that evening, Phoebe sits in front of the blazing fireplace in the Manor's main parlor, lost in thought, as Raige arrives home from the nightclub. Raige politely wonders if Phoebe would like some company, and Phoebe affably offers her bastard half-sister a pillow. The two chat about their respective days, with Raige finally getting up to speed on the entire Vex situation. Raige, as one would expect, is rather annoyed with The Retarded Bimbo for the latter's spell-related role in the entire debacle, but Phoebe urges Raige to let it go. "I don't think she did anything wrong," Phoebe opines. "In fact, I think she's the only one doing anything right around here." After a bit of befuddlement from Raige, Phoebe gets to the point: "Do you ever wonder that maybe we made a mistake faking our own deaths?" The question leads to Raige explaining that surprising epiphany she experienced in Piper's office while being mauled by Slampiece Jailbait. Of course, because this show is so poorly written, she explains it badly, but the bottom line is she can't imagine spending the rest of her life with someone who believes she's someone she isn't. Phoebe admits that she's been thinking much the same thing of late, but hastens to add that it's not just about Vex; it's about "who [they] used to be" and "the whole Greater Good thing." "I just worry," Phoebe awkwardly articulates, "that the more we ignore it, the more we won't be able to." Raige appears near tears as she asks, "So what are we going to do?" Phoebe chooses this moment to drop the Antosis bomb on Raige's head, admitting that The Retarded Bimbo managed to make her feel pretty guilty about the whole situation. And after that, the two quickly realize that The Retard's likely run off to confront the demon in question alone. DUN! Well, not really, but it had to hit sooner or later, no?
P3, and this episode's timeline is so completely screwed up, I can't figure out if it's the middle of the night or six o'clock in the evening, as Piper would have us believe when she mentions that dumb interview she's got with the hack from No. In any event, long story short, Agent Murphy's arrived in Piper's office to confront her glamoured self with a sheaf of grisly crime scene photographs starring Antosis's latest victim. Piper reacts to the images with what seems, to him, like an unnerving equanimity. Murphy explains that neither he nor his superiors believe the Halliwells are really dead, but he also assures Glamour Piper that, unlike Agent Keyes, he himself has no desire to harm the Manor Morons -- he simply wants to help. Piper clearly doesn't quite believe him, but she does falter a bit when he mentions the dozens of people who have been killed in the last month, in manners unnatural and by entities unknown. He reminds her that The Retarded Bimbo has his phone number should Glamour Piper choose to contact him, and leaves as Piper's cell receives a text message from home. "911," it reads. "[RETARD] IN TROUBLE."
Cut to the troubled retard in question, who's practically dragging another miniature-monkey-injured innocent towards a just-arriving taxi on a suspiciously suburban-looking side street. She loads the innocent into the cab while ordering the driver to get the guy to the nearest hospital as quickly as possible. After the cab takes off, The Retarded Bimbo canters off down another Dank And Forbidding Alleyway Of Doom as Antosis and The Imp Master smear in on a darkened corner of the street to watch her disappear. The demons once more sneer something sinister and desperately unimportant at one another before vanishing into yet another commercial break.
Nonexistent Attic. Raige scries for The Retarded Bimbo -- like, she's your charge, nimrod, so you might want to deploy your stupid Whitelightery Lo-Jack on her instead -- as Piper enters from the upper stairs for the latest news, of which there is not much. "I can't believe we're doing this again," Raige gripes after the three have finished babbling bits of information at one another of which the audience was already aware. "Agent Murphy thinks we never should have stopped," Piper reveals. Phoebe phrets that he's figured out who they actually are, but Piper assures her he hasn't. "But he's getting warmer," she cautions. Just then, Raige's scrying crystal drops down on a set of map coordinates (Union and Fillmore Streets in Pacific Heights) which we'll soon learn are meant to represent the Manor, but which contradict just about every other goddamned location the Manor's had in the past (including, but certainly not limited to, Washington Street south of the Presidio, Russian Hill, and Alamo Square). Charmed sucks.
Down in the foyer, The Retard bimbos through the front hall as Antosis smears in behind her, where he's presently joined by a reddish swarm of tiny flying monkeys that coagulate into Imp Master form. The demons spout the expected threats for a bit until The Imp Master more or less vomits a cloud of his little pals from his pores. The swirling imps dart around his body as he and Antosis advance upon The Retard. Meanwhile, the Glammed Gals have arrived on the stairwell's upper landing from above to offer wary eyes at the goings-on down in the main hall. Finally, after much sneering from both sides, The Retard produces from her jacket pocket a vanquishing vial that she hurls at The Imp Master's feet. Demon go boom. Of mild interest, though, is the fact that the little flying monkeys go boom one by one first, which was sort of cool. Not that I much care at this point, because we've still got another eight minutes left in this episode, and as I've noted before, tonight's Nefarious Plot For Neighborhood Domination is merely a prop for the main storyline involving the sisters' lives. So, long story short, the Manor Morons finish things off by reciting the following Power of Three from their place on the stairs:
Hear us now, the witches call,
He who makes Samaritans fall!
We speak as one, the Sisters Three,
And banish you to Eternity.
And...demon go boom again, some more. Pretty, shiny, swirly, suck-him-through-the-floor boom, but boom nevertheless. There's a brief scene involving the unbearably lispy Retarded Bimbo that makes me want to beat her with a stick until she's dead, then die myself, then come back from beyond the grave kick her to death some more before dying again and resurrecting myself one more time to pelt her bloody corpse with dead rats, and then it's over and we've found ourselves slung into...
...the Closing Travelogue, which involves night passing into day over the Golden Gate Bridge. Back at the Manor, we're treated to a blissful, dialogue-free montage of the Morons therein sadly and silently evaluating their glamoured reflections in various mirrors, and I suppose this is the production staff's way of bidding a fond farewell to Monica Allgeier, Christina Ulloa, Ragan Wallake, and Andrew McGinnis. You, of course, may feel free to say, "Good riddance, you weird-looking freaks." Post-montage, we find Raige and Phoebe seated in their pajamas at the dining room table, listlessly picking away at a fruit plate and a bowl of gruel, respectively. Piper and the Dolt enter from above and, long story short, the assembled idiots decide it's time to shed their glamours and return to their old identities. Just go with it, because there are three entire scenes left after this one, okay? The four arrange themselves in front of the large mirror hanging above the dining room's sideboard, and Phoebe reads the following from the slip of paper she's drawn from the pocket of her robe:
I call upon the ancient powers
To unmask us now, and in future hours:
Show us well and thoroughly --
Reveal ourselves so the world can see.
The mirror flares white, presumably from the mojo rays that erupt from their bodies (we catch the slightest glimpse of them, actually, bursting from Raige's blurry shoulder in the far left foreground of the shot), and when the mirror clears, the Manor Morons find their true reflections peering back at themselves from the glass for the first time in over a month. "It's good to be back," Phoebe smiles, adding after a moment, "although [Vex] is gonna freak. Out." Well, if he freaks himself right out of the show, that'll be perfectly fine with me, Hagula. "How are we going to explain this?" Raige wonders. Piper has a plan. Doesn't she always?
Cut to a low-angled shot of elevator doors opening somewhere else. The Glamorous Ladies, led by Piper, emerge from the car into a mindbendingly stupid slow-motion stroll through the Department of Homeland Security's San Francisco field office, and it should surprise none of you to learn that this show's ass properties staff got the department's official seal all wrong. The various agents present gape in shock and dismay, though to be frank it's difficult to determine whether said shock and dismay is directed at the simple fact of the gals' existence or at Phoebe's hideous Inverted Tequila Sunrise-themed skirt. The three at long last arrive at the desk of the bureau's receptionist, who's as visibly flabbergasted by Phoebe's grotesque appearance as everyone else. "How's it going?" Piper breezes by way of introduction, before she continues in a similarly light tone, "Is Agent Murphy in?" "Hoo...hoo...who should I say is asking?" the receptionist stammers. Mugs tosses off an obnoxious line about surprising the poor guy, and so the ladies do just that, striding into his office to blow his little mind with tales of witches and glamours and vanquished demons and such. Agent Murphy eventually manages to cover his astonishment, assures Piper he meant every word he said to her in P3's office, and wonders what the women want. The following deal, as it turns out: They'll share with him their knowledge of all things supernatural, as well as their extensive expertise in dealing with dark demonic forces sent from the flaming maw of Hell, if he in turn promises to protect their secret. "Or else what?" he challenges them. "Is that some sort of threat?" "You don't want to know," Phoebe vows. Murphy evaluates their frosty expressions for a moment before caving. "What do you want me to do?"
Hold a massive press conference, of course. "I can't talk about the specifics of the case the sisters were involved with," he lies to the hastily assembled scrum of reporters thronging the bureau's field office. "All I can say is that it involved a threat to national security, and that our agency got involved to protect them." The official story now is that the Halliwells witnessed some unspecified crime, an attempt was then made on their lives, and Homeland Security "falsified their deaths in order to flush out the perpetrators." While Agent Murphy has thus been so valiantly spewing line after line of bullshit to the annoyingly gullible representatives of the national media, the camera's pulled away from the scene through a television screen, and we find ourselves back in Vex Pexter's physically impossible garret, and BORING! Phoebe raps on his door and, if I'm remembering this correctly, I wasn't too fond of the scene that follows the first time I saw it two goddamned years ago. Phoebe enters and, long story short, glamours one last time into that flat-chested version of Amanda Peet that Vex knew so well. Vex crosses his eyes and drops out of the frame to the floor in a dead faint. Wah. Wah. Waaaaaah.
Dammit! Yet another scene! Will this episode never end? Well, at least this one's quick: Piper and Raige buck each other up with a shared pep talk regarding their newfound notoriety and "this too shall pass" and whatnot before emerging from P3's back office to greet, quite literally, hundreds of their yuppie admirers out on the main floor of the bar. "We're back!" Raige gamely smiles at the cluster of fans nearest her as she and Piper pose for photographs and Raige, honey, none of these people ever knew you were gone in the first place, remember? Dizzy simp. No matter, though, for Piper and Raige soon find themselves frozen in the flash from one of the dozens of cameras snapping in their direction, and we finally fade to black. Thank God.
week: The promos would have us believe the episode's all about Phoebe getting herself knocked up again, but the paltering promotional materials lie like a rug. It's actually All About The Retard. Stock up on the booze before it's too late.