SunMoonStar? You da man! Er. Woman. Whatever.
Manor. Prue waltzes through the front hall to answer the doorbell, and finds Andy Trudeau standing there on her front porch. "I was nowhere near the neighborhood, so I thought I'd drop by," he tells her. They really want me to like this guy, don't they? Make him take off his shirt again and then we can talk. Prue's helpless smirk at Andy's opening matches my own as she allows him inside. They chat about the date they so enjoyed the evening before Andy hands Prue an early birthday gift. It's a small box in Tiffany blue, but unfortunately for Prue, the contents in no way resemble expensive jewelry. She eases open the lid to see a key. Andy reveals that he arranged for a weekend away from the city at the "Calistoga Spa," and that if Prue accepts, they'll leave the afternoon of her birthday the following Friday. So, uh, why the hell does he have the key already? No, seriously. What the hell is that key supposed to unlock? Whatever. Minor point, I suppose. Andy reassures Prue that lest she think he's just trying to get into her pants, he arranged for adjoining rooms. Despite this, Prue seems a bit hesitant about the whole thing. Andy gently urges her to accept his offer, adding that he doesn't need her answer for a couple of days. He pecks her on the cheek and leaves. "Happy birthday to me," Prue mumbles to herself a bit sardonically as she shuts the door behind him.
Elsewhere, outside a pleasant wood-frame Victorian brightly painted yellow and white, an equally pleasant young man and his mother banter about birthday traditions. Mom's old-school Chinese, you see, and has insisted on leaving a bit of his birthday cake on the front porch for the "hungry spirits" stomping around the city. She'd also like him to wear some sort of protective amulet for some reason or other. The pleasant young man reminds Mom that he's twenty-three now and can take care of himself without relying on some silly, old-school superstitions, thank you very much. He places the proffered amulet on a hook by the front door, kisses his mother on the cheek, and heads off to work. He is so dead before we hit the opening credits.
"Chinatown," which actually looks like a cheap streetscape on the back lot which they've tarted up with appropriate signage and hordes of ethnically-appropriate extras. Mark Chao, our pleasant young birthday corpse, ambles through, calling out greetings to various young ladies. As he passes out of the frame, a shifty-eyed lad in a black knit club-kid top takes off after him.
Abandoned alleyway. Mark Chao, so dead I can smell the decay rising from his flesh through my television screen, wanders through, only to be ambushed by the shifty-eyed lad and his posse. "This the guy?" one of them asks. The apparent leader, another shifty-eyed lad with unfortunate facial hair, confirms that Mark Chao, corpse about town, is indeed the gentleman they've been looking for. I have to admit that the first time I saw this episode, what follows disturbed me to an extent that surprised me. The leader of the posse pulls out a revolver and shoots Mark Chao dead. He then twists a ring off his own finger, placing it on Mark's rapidly-cooling hand. One of the flunkies then douses the fresh corpse with gasoline and torches it. Dark demonic forces sent from the flaming maw of Hell to hurl Flaming Balls Of Death at unsuspecting innocents? That I can handle. Realistic depictions of violence on what is essentially a live-action cartoon? Not nearly as much fun. While the posse occupies itself by so abusing Mark's earthly remains, Mark's "soul" pops out of his corpse to scream, "No!" over and over again. And I thought my last birthday sucked ass. The camera pulls in closer to the corpse's burning legs before we slide into the opening credits.
Manor kitchen. Piper putters about as some testicle moans, "Nobody knows it, but you've got a secret smile, and you use it only for me." Ack. Hork. BRRRACK. Piper slides open a drawer and finds a stack of cheap birthday party invitations lying on the bottom. Heaving a tremendously put-upon sigh, she gathers up the invitations and flounces over to the center island. Channeling an eight-year-old Martha Stewart, she sprinkles glitter into an envelope and inserts one of the invitations. I can't stand it when people stuff envelopes with glitter. Were I the recipient of that invitation, I'd RSVP by leaving a flaming bag of dog shit on their front porch. Phoebe bobbles into the kitchen with perky morning greetings, then hisses at Piper to hide the invitations before Prue sees them. Piper whines that Phoebe should have mailed the invitations weeks ago, as the surprise party is scheduled for the impending Friday evening. Phoebe insists that she has everything under control, and chides Piper for worrying too much. Piper then asks if Phoebe's bought a gift yet. Phoebe smiles slyly and admits that she has. "Where'd you get the money to pay for it?" Piper barks immediately. Heh.
Before Phoebe can launch into her sordid tale of turning tricks with the grubby skate punks at the arcade for a quarter a go, Prue stomps in from the dining room to cut all birthday-related chatter short. When Phoebe asks about Prue's date with Andy, Prue admits that she had a wonderful time until he asked her to spend the weekend at a spa with him. "I hate when they do that," Phoebe snarks. Please. Like any of your liaisons ever get past the "shove it in, pull it out, and get the hell out of my sister's car" stage. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I suppose, but still. Shut it. Learning that Andy's reservations clash with the planned soiree, Phoebe and Piper none-too-subtly attempt to convince Prue to ask Andy for a rain check. Prue arches a suspicious eyebrow and inquires, "You guys aren't trying to plan another surprise party for me, are you?" "No!" Piper bleats. "Never!" "Good," Prue deadpans, "because you guys know how much I hate surprises." Why am I not shocked to learn this about her? Oh, yeah -- stereotyped character development. Prue hates surprises because she's the oldest, Phoebe loves them because she's emotionally retarde...I mean, "the youngest," and Piper, being the middle sister, could go either way on this issue, but would likely spend her entire time at a party in her honor fluttering about the room emptying ashtrays and making sure everyone had enough to eat. Am I right? Sigh.
Once Prue has breezily exited the kitchen with a bottle of orange juice, Piper snarls, "Dammit, Phoebe! If you had sent Andy his invitation, we wouldn't be in this mess." Phoebe deflects blame by claiming that Prue doesn't want a party anyway, so what's the big deal if Phoebe flaked on the invitations? You want a list, you stupid little twit? That's a rhetorical question. I haven't the strength to launch into an anti-Phoebe rant this early in the episode. Phoebe blows on out of there, noting that she has a job interview. Piper grunts in exasperation and twitches her head around like Katharine Hepburn in the throes of an especially brutal nicotine fit.
Job interview. Phoebe trails some trendoid tool through a hotel lobby. The tool, who's wearing a charcoal-colored Nehru jacket over a collarless white button-down, is explaining that one of the hotel's trademarks is the "psychic" they have giving readings in the bar area. He asks Phoebe what her gimmick is -- "Tea leaves? Tarot cards?" Phoebe stupidly reveals that she's an actual psychic. The Tool sneers at her and calls for the candidate. Phoebe quickly grips his arm and babbles out a fake premonition about The Tool's wife catching him having dinner with a blowsy blonde. Phoebe lands the job. Of course. Rrrgh. This is going to be as much fun as an ice-water enema. Not that I'd know what ice-water enemas are like, you understand. It's just that I've seen Eating Raoul far too many times.
Buckland's. Prue's on the phone with Piper as she examines some Vermeer-ish canvas in her office. Basically, Piper begs Prue to delay her departure for Calistoga until that Saturday. Not because Piper's planning a surprise party or anything, but because Phoebe wants to give Prue a present that Friday evening. Phoebe even went out and got a job to pay for the thing! Prue snorts and asks Piper which corner Phoebe's working. Well, not really, but she does inquire as to the nature of this supposed job. Conveniently, Piper spies a circled ad in that morning's Chronicle, which someone has left on the kitchen table. The ad reads, "PSYCHICS WANTED." More interesting is the ad directly above that one. "Sam" is looking for a "NAANY." "Preference to cook is a help," but the successful candidate "must be experienced in English." If the ad's anything to go by, Sammy wouldn't recognize Experience In English if Experience In English ran its frisky hand down the back of his boxer shorts while shoving its tongue in his ear. Anyway, Piper realizes that Phoebe's fucked up yet again, and quickly natters something dismissive to Prue before hanging up. Piper rolls her eyes and sighs.
Hotel Of The Tool. Despite the fact that Phoebe was hired less than a minute ago, the lobby already features a pink, professionally-hand-painted poster advertising "Psychic Revelations" by "The Amazing Phoebe." There's even a glossy color eight-by-ten of the dimwit in question, tricked out in a frothy pink-and-gold I Dream Of Jeannie harem girl number with a matching pillbox hat. I hate this show. The camera pans from the poster to a small table set up by the bar. The Abrasive Foible tells a middle-aged woman that she sees her standing on a scale at a Weight Watchers' meeting as the group notes that the woman has "gained a few pounds." The woman, needless to say, is outraged, and demands her twenty dollars back. The Abrasive Foible bats the woman's hand away from the tip jar, shrieking that the woman knows Phoebe was telling the truth, and why are they wasting my time with this? As the disgruntled customer wanders away, Piper approaches to rip Phoebe a new one. "Our powers are supposed to be a secret, not a marketable job skill," Piper spits. General bitchery ensues, with Piper reminding Phoebe yet again of the prohibition against personal gain while Phoebe insists that said prohibition is not a concern, as Phoebe is merely posing as a psychic to earn enough money to buy Prue a gift. Yawn. Mark Chao, Corpse About Town toddles over, asking which of the women is the psychic. He may be pleasant, but he's quite the thickheaded jackass, no? Piper duhs that the Feebs is the idiot in question, then orders the Corpse About Town to fuck right off. "We're trying to have an argument here," she gripes. Meanwhile, The Tool has entered the scene to screech at The Abrasive Foible for taking an unauthorized break or something. He's more than a bit confused when he notices that the ladies appear to be yammering at thin air. Piper tosses her hands around and storms away. The Corpse About Town chases after her, pleading, "You have to help me!" "Yeah, talk to the 'psychic,'" Piper growls.
Outside, Piper keeps telling Mark to make like a tree, and Mark keeps refusing to take no for an answer. In Piper's defense, Mark's spectral form for some reason appears to be solid, unlike the glowy, aura-encircled, levitating ghosts the gals deal with in later episodes. (Like this third-season piece of crap, for instance. Or this fourth-season piece of crap. Or this one. Or this one. Or...fine. You get the point.) It's only when a bicyclist passes through Mark's body that Piper believes Mark's claims. He fills her in on the whole nasty immolation incident that just ruined his birthday as Piper hoots "Omigod!" several times.
[72virg=ins]. Sorry. I realize [the anthr=ax] and [demian will fry=in hell] were the more popular choices, but I'm pulling rank here. Because virgins are funny. As a waitron maneuvers a dessert cart through the dining area, Prue wanders through, clad in rather professional black jacket-and-blouse combination over a pale blue skirt. What really makes the outfit, though, is the skirt's zipper. Rather than resting off to the side or in the back where zippers tend to reside on women's clothing, her fly is right up front covering her crotch, proving once and for all that Prue does indeed have a dick. She spots Andy enjoying lunch with a blonde woman, and struts on over to the table. Andy introduces his companion as "Susan Trudeau." "Sister?" Prue asks, politely shaking her hand. "Wife," Susan replies. Woo hoo! Whip it out and smack him with it, Prue! Atta girl! Prue ices Andy with a frosty glare before spinning on her well-shod heel and stomping out. Andy splutters, "Ex-wife! We were divorced!" as he trots towards Prue's receding form. Alas, his protestations are for naught. Prue squints, sending the dessert cart rolling across the floor into Andy's path. The errant detective plows into the thing, flipping across the top to land on the floor with pudding soiling his jacket. Wah. Wah. Waaaaah.
"Chinatown." The Corpse About Town leads Piper through the alley of his doom, describing a "Chinese myth" to her as they go. "It's called Da Hoi," he exposits. "When The Gates Of Hell open. If the gatekeeper, Yama, captures my soul before my body's properly buried, he'll take me to Hell forever." They really do just make this shit up as they go along, don't they? See the "Chinese" version of Limbo for more. Or don't, really, because that episode was horrible, what with the hackneyed "spiritual" dialogue and Alyssa Milano making an ass out of herself trying to be Rose McGowan and everything. Why Rose McGowan never slapped the taste out of Alyssa Milano's mouth after that episode aired is beyond me. Anyway, Mark carries on about how Yama doesn't check souls for their character (or lack thereof) before dragging them down to Hell, as he's merely interested in quantity. They stumble across Mark's crispy remains. Piper's horrified, but me? Not so much. We're back to the live-action cartoon as far as Mark's remains are concerned. It looks like they took a plastic Halloween skeleton and spray-painted it black, then hot-glued little shoes to its feet after tossing a few rags over it here and there. Meanwhile, Yama decides this would be a perfect time to materialize. A cloud of mist forms at the far end of the alley, and Yama comes charging through it on horseback. Since Yama's meant to be Chinese, I'm assuming they tried for a Mongol horde sort of thing with his look, but he actually resembles a supernumerary from a low-budget production of The Gotterdammerung, what with his Hagar the Horrible helmet and everything. Yama also totes along a spear -- the better to skewer souls, I presume. Mark wails that they're too late, and urges Piper to flee. Instead, Piper tenses and flings her hands into the air. Yama freezes in a rather photogenic pose with his horse rearing up on its hind legs. Mark endears himself to me by wincing with his fists crossed near his face, waiting for The Spear Of Yama to run him through like an awl. Snicker. After a moment, the two realize that Yama isn't going anywhere anytime soon, so they scamper off towards the opposite end of the alleyway. As they turn the far corner, Yama unfreezes, canters around a bit in confused slow-motion, then allows his eyes to glow green through his Hagar helmet as we fade into the commercial break.
Manor. Phoebe bangs on the bathroom door, begging Prue to come out and talk. Piper wanders up, wondering what gives. Phoebe reveals that the restaurant called while she and Piper were out, so Prue found out about the surprise party. Prue emerges, wrapped in a towel, to bitch at them for throwing her a party when she specifically told them blah blee bitch blah blah Demian is terribly annoyed with this subplot. Mark Chao, Corpse About Town ambles through the hallway looking for the newspaper. Prue shrieks, "Hey! I'm almost nekkid over here!" "What's the drunk from the hotel doing here?" Phoebe asks. Mark indignantly insists that he's not a drunk as he averts his gaze from Prue's vast expanse of moist flesh before the sight melts the eyes right out of his skull. Piper fills her sisters in on the whole ghost thing. Her sisters scoff. Piper tosses a coffee mug through Mark's body. Phoebe and Prue goggle as Mark looks woefully put-upon.
Kitchen, some time later, as Prue is now dry and fully dressed. Phoebe wonders how Piper knows Mark's not meant to go to Hell with the Yama-Lama-Ding-Dong. What? Shut up. If I have to have that annoyance masquerading as a novelty song thundering through my head, so do you. Piper's convinced that Mark's an innocent. If he weren't, she argues, they wouldn't be able to see him. Not necessarily true, as their experience with the Brothers Mandylor tells us, but Piper clearly doesn't realize that yet. Her plan is to ensure that Mark's crispy remains receive a proper burial, so that he can move on to wherever it is pleasant young Chinese-American men go when they've been shot and burned. Prue asks if Piper's contacted the police yet. Piper admits that she has, but she wants to keep Mark at the Manor until the police have had an opportunity to speak with his mother. She intends to urge Mark's mom to hold a service as soon as possible. Um, excuse me? Honey, if my kid just died and you showed up to tell me what to do with the remains, you'd find yourself with a size nine footprint on your meddling ass.
At that moment, Phoebe gets a call from The Tool and heads off to work the evening shift. Once she's gone, Prue segues to the topic of Andy and his suspicious ex-wife. Piper's shocked that Andy would have neglected to tell Prue something so "important," and the Glamorous Ladies have totally lost me on this one. If Prue and Andy are engaged in a casual dating relationship, why would she care how many ex-wives he has scattered up and down the West Coast? Also, Andy and the ex clearly have an amiable post-divorce relationship, so shouldn't that be a good sign? Whatever. Moving on.
Hotel Of The Tool. Phoebe and The Tool pedeconference through the lobby, she in her Jeannie togs, he in his Nehru jacket. He natters something about a VIP in the Presidential Suite or whatever, and urges Phoebe to "tell him something good so he'll extend his stay." None of this is important -- it's merely filler chat meant to get them into the bar area in time for Phoebe to spy a businessman leaving his wallet on a table. So much of this episode is useless padding. We know Phoebe won't keep this job, just as we know Prue isn't going to throw Andy over because of the ex-wife, so would someone please explain to me why we have to plod through all of this crap before the gals solve Mark's murder? I mean it. I'm at a total loss to explain any of it. Anyway, Phoebe hoists the businessman's wallet and is flung into a black-and-white premonition. She sees him leaving the hotel through the front doors, accidentally dropping his briefcase into the street, and getting whomped by a speeding Cadillac when he bends to retrieve his briefcase from the gutter. You'll recognize the clip of him flipping ass over head across the hood from the opening credits. Phoebe snaps out of it as The Tool approaches her, asking if she's okay. She lies that she's fine, staring the whole while at The Pleatherette Wallet Of Vehicular Doom.
Manor. The Corpse About Town tries to turn on the television, but his index finger keeps plowing through the power button into the middle of the set. Piper enters the parlor carrying a blanket. "Is that for me?" he asks. Piper allows that it is. "I wasn't sure -- do ghosts sleep?" she hesitates. "I don't even get cold anymore," he answers with a rueful smile. Death Chat. Mark admits that "it's finally sinking in -- everything [he] lost." He waxes nostalgic for oysters and beer and pick-up basketball and arriving home to find messages from his mother asking why he hasn't "married a nice Chinese girl yet" and Piper's panties are getting totally damp. Me? I'm flashing back to Margaret Cho's rendition of what her mother leaves on the answering machine, so I'm giggling instead of getting appropriately misty-eyed. "Boop. Moran? Grandma and Grandpa...they gonna DIE!" Snicker. Mark sits on the sofa and tells Piper about his mother -- how they relied on each other after his father died, and how she taught him everything she knows about cooking. Piper reveals that she's a chef, and they flirt about Peking Duck, with Mark telling her he would have enjoyed being a chef "if [he] hadn't sold out to the molecular biology program at Stanford." Piper titters, "So you can cook and clone DNA?" "Yeah, but the duck's harder." Ow! Stop it with the banter and the innuendoes and the flirting with each other! He's DEAD, for Christ's sake! They don't listen to me. They never do. Piper sits to him on the sofa, and they flash their teeth at each other and snicker and guffaw and giggle and Piper, honey? Get a vibrator.
Cut to a shot of an obnoxiously phallic Transamerica Pyramid, like, I GET IT, and then we're headed on over to The Hotel Of The Tool. Phoebe wanders through a hallway, clutching The Pleatherette Wallet Of Vehicular Doom to the Fun Bags. She accosts the wallet's owner, a "Mr. Correy," pleading with him not to leave the building. Correy's wife shows up, and it's the same woman The Abrasive Foible said had gained a few pounds. They tell Phoebe to go to hell. Phoebe begs them to heed her warnings. They leave. Phoebe pants. I tumble to the carpet in a coma.
Buckland's, the following morning. Prue enters her office to find a large bouquet of flowers on her desk. Andy, hiding behind the door, eases into the middle of the room to greet her sheepishly. "You of all people should know bribery's a crime," Prue snots. Andy apologizes for not informing Prue about the ex-wife sooner. Prue's not having it and sneers back at him, wondering if he was going to tell her about Susan "before or after the door to [their] adjoining rooms swung open this weekend." Andy bristles, "I've got an ex-wife, and I don't hate her. Is that so horrible? Why are you trying to turn this into something it's not?" Thank you, Andy! God! Now take off your shirt again. He ignores me, choosing instead to stare Prue down while snarking something about not being the only one in the relationship with a secret to hide. Prue cracks first, breaking away from his gaze to fidget guiltily with some papers on her desk. Andy shakes his head a bit in disappointment and leaves.
House Of Chao. Piper approaches the front door as Mark eyes her from the sidewalk below. As she rings the doorbell, she asks if he really believes his plan is going to work. He assures Piper that if she speaks Chinese to his mother, Piper will gain her trust. Mama Chao pops out through the front door, and we're "treated" to a little scene wherein Mark prompts Piper with some simple Chinese phrases, then translates when his mother responds. Piper keeps glancing in Mark's direction during the exchange, and we get some Mama POVs of the empty sidewalk so the members of the viewing audience who suffer from the aftereffects of blunt-force head trauma remember that only Piper can see him. When Mama Chao learns that Piper's there to speak with her about her son, Mama Chao excitedly pleads with Piper to tell her where he is. "I haven't heard from him since his birthday!" she exclaims. Neither Piper nor Mark is prepared for this, so Piper splutters something about contacting Mama Chao if Mark calls her. Mama Chao thanks her and heads back into her home while Mark screams at Piper. Piper can't just let his mother walk away! She has to tell her about the crispy remains so Mark won't bounce away to Hell on the end of a spear! Piper apologizes, but she can't bring herself to tell Mama Chao that her only child is dead. Mark charges the front door. The little amulet from the pre-credits sequence emits a violet force field that knocks Mark onto his spectral back. "She's got the house protected against ghosts," he glums. "All the fairy tales she told me are true, and I'm gonna burn in Hell." Piper looks so very, very sad.
Cross-fade to Manor that evening. Up in the kitchen, a rubber-gloved Prue scours the stovetop furiously. Heh. Phoebe enters the kitchen and eventually joins her sister in attacking the dark demonic grease smears with a sponge. As Phoebe never lifts a finger to clean around the house, Prue knows there's something bothering her. Phoebe sighs and fills Prue in on her wallet premonition, then admits to her job as the hotel's "lounge psychic." Rather than howling about personal gain as Piper did earlier, Prue simply states that Phoebe should head back to the hotel to ensure Mr. Correy's safety. Phoebe says that she waited at the guy's room until he and the wife went to bed, then broke a key off in his lock, so Correy's not going anywhere soon. Like that hotel wouldn't have converted to key cards by the time this episode originally aired. Phoebe then wonders why Prue isn't apoplectic with rage over Phoebe's choice of employment. Prue smiles and notes that Phoebe was trying to do something good when she took the job. "And now you're going to get to do something wonderful," Prue explains. "I couldn't ask for a better birthday present than that." Phoebe grins happily, and Prue allows herself a warm smile in responzzzzzzzzzzzzzsnorf! What? Hunh? Is it over yet?
Piper and Mark thankfully stomp into the kitchen at this point to give the A-plot a kick in the ass. Piper grabs the remote and flicks on the little countertop television set. A reporter is noting that Mark's body was found by the police, but because of that ring the hood placed on his finger, the remains have been identified as those of "Tony Wong, head of the 'Chinatown Triads.'" The image on the screen switches over to a mug shot of Wong, and to the surprise of no one, it's the guy who shot Mark. A free-floating premonition emanates from the TV to beat Phoebe like a red-headed stepchild. She sees Tony Wong loading a gun at a table. Interestingly, Phoebe struggles to hang on to the vision and succeeds long enough to copy down the Chinese characters she sees on the wall over Wong's head. Mark looks at the characters and translates them as "Wu Han Imports," the name of a shipping warehouse over in Chinatown. The Glamorous Ladies glance at each other, no doubt formulating a cunning plan.
Wu Han's Den Of Imports And Iniquity. Piper and Mark quietly edge through the lower level. Were The Corpse About Town still able to urinate, he'd be pissing himself with fear right now. As it is, he repeatedly warns Piper that she can't handle Wong and his heavily-armed posse on her own. Piper tells him to cram it, reminding him that if she can freeze an ancient Chinese Hell escort, she can certainly handle a couple of low-rent thugs. They tiptoe up a set of stairs towards the closed door on the upper landing. Mark spots an amulet hanging on the doorframe and whines that he can't go in! They've protected the room against ghosts! Piper glares at him, snatches the amulet off its hook, and hurls it to the floor. Beat. "Um. Never mind." Snerk. Piper flings open the door and immediately freezes the four gentlemen in the room. She props a copy of that morning's "Herald" in Tony's arms. The banner headline screams, "TONY WONG FOUND DEAD." Piper returns to Mark's side and snaps a photo of Tony with the newspaper. Unfortunately, the strobing light from the camera's flash unfreezes Wong and his boys, who snarl and threaten and scamper after Piper with guns drawn. By the way, none of the hoods has changed clothes since they torched Mark's corpse. What's the point of getting into organized crime if you have to wear the same damn thing every day like you're some short-order cook slinging hash in an IHOP? I want some Armani, dammit!
Out in the street, Piper and Mark leap into the Grand Cherokee and peel off. Wong snatches a pen from one of his underlings to scribble her license plate down on his hand. For the trivia freaks out there -- and you know who you are -- the plate number is 3B583Y8. Tony Wong purses his lips and sneers his way into the commercial break.
Did you know the Pan-Am Games were held in Winnipeg in 1999? And that said games awarded a bunch of 'roid jockeys from Canada a gold medal for "roller hockey"? Of course you didn't. The Pan-Am Games? Roller hockey? Winnipeg? As if anyone gives a shit.
Back from the break, Piper crosses a parking lot outside a police station that is not The Loneliest Precinct House In The World to tell Mark she dropped the Wong photo into Andy's interoffice mail. As she reassures Mark of Andy's prowess as a detective, she holds open the passenger door on the Cherokee for him, even though we know Mark can move through objects. Perhaps she's simply being polite. Of course, as she does this, Andy himself spots her from his parking space a few cars down, and strides over to make fun of Piper for talking to herself. Piper guhs and flutters her hands about for a bit before changing the topic of conversation to Prue's latest spat with her boyfriend. Andy asks for advice, and Piper sagely instructs him to keep his distance until Prue gets over herself. Andy grins and gives her a hug, then walks away. Were The Corpse About Town still able to sprout wood, he'd be playing pocket pool right now over Piper's sweet, sweet ways. He smiles at her and asks if he could escort her to a place in the city of which he's rather fond. Yeah. His bedroom. Increasingly smitten, Piper smiles back at him and agrees.
The Hotel Of The Tool. Phoebe again accosts Mr. Correy. Screaming. Shrieking. Flashbacks to relevant premonitions. Threats. Warnings. Calls for security. Correy leaves the hotel, drops his briefcase in the middle of the street, and bends to pick it up. Phoebe hurtles down the front steps and flings herself against his body as a pink Cadillac races towards them. Correy escapes his near-death encounter unscathed. Having thus saved his life, Phoebe reminds him to drop a twenty in her jar as payment for the accurate "psychic reading." "Tip not included," she snippily adds before wandering away. Is this subplot over yet? It is? Thank God.
Apartment Of Chao. Dude! I totally called it. He's showing her his "etchings." Scamp. Dead scamp on his way to Hell dangling from the business end of a spear, but still. Piper examines a paperback copy of a novel by Camus and pretends she's impressed. Wait. That would be me with the pretending. Piper's actually into the whole thing. She flips the book open to read the following: "'I love this world as a dead world, and as always there comes an hour when one is weary of prisons, and all one craves for is a warm face -- the warmth and wonder of a living heart.'" The Stranger? It has to be either that one or The Plague, I suppose. I haven't read Camus since college. Mark cracks wise about actually getting to meet Camus if Andy's as good a cop as Piper claims, which is silly because everyone knows those nasty French existentialists are rotting away in Hell. Mark directs Piper to retrieve a small wooden chest from a bookcase, and the two sit on the couch to open it. The box is full of his grandfather's secret recipes, and he'd like Piper to have them. Aw. She rightly protests that they should remain in Mark's family, but he insists, eliciting a promise that Piper will use the recipes for Prue's birthday bash. He reminds her that he walked out on his own birthday party not realizing it would be his last, and the gals should therefore force Prue to be festive, or something. It's all very touching, I suppose, if you're the kind of sap who cries at Hallmark commercials, because that's about the level of emotional depth in this scene. Piper gets misty.
Boudoir Of The Prueminator. The lady of the room is curled in a wicker armchair while channel surfing. Phoebe enters, and the two chat about her good deed for the day and how special she feels now that she saved the life of some middle management asshole. Prue then admits that while she's angry with Andy for hiding the fact of Susan from her, she feels a bit hypocritical about the whole thing because she hides the fact of her bitchcraft from him every day. They agree to live their lives to the fullest despite their destiny as the Charmed Ones or something, but I'm not really sure because I was down in the bathroom scrubbing the inside of the toilet bowl with an old toothbrush.
Mark and Piper enter the front hall and get pie-eyed and moony with each other. Mark even asks, "Where have you been my whole life?" Fortunately, Wong's posse bursts through the front door to abduct Piper, saving me from gouging out my own eyes with the business end of the toothbrush I used to clean the toilet. Mark howls for help, and Prue and Phoebe race down from upstairs, arriving on the first floor far too late to do anything. Phoebe scuttles to phone the police, but Prue nixes this idea, vowing to take out Wong and his flunkies herself. The Ps plus Mark dart out of the house and into the commercial break.
Wu Han's Den Of Iniquitous Imports. Piper's strapped to a chair while Tony Wong loads a pistol. Threats. Recriminations. Hair-pulling. Tony Wong is a lousy actor, so let's cut to the chase: He offed Mark to assume his identity, which makes no sense, given that a felon like Wong would have had to alter his own fingerprints with acid or something for this plan to work, and then there's the issue of proper documentation, and you know what? I don't care. scene, please.
And look at that. My TV finally paid attention to me. Over at The Loneliest Precinct House In The World, Andy opens the anonymous interoffice envelope from Piper and finds the photo of Wong with the newspaper. Andy is perturbed.
Den Of Iniquitous Imports. Prue and Phoebe barge in through the main floor. A flunky levels a gun at them, but Prue squints to TK him into some shipping crates. With Mark on their heels, the ladies scamper up the staircase. Meanwhile, Tony Wong has loosened the ropes binding Piper to drag her to another hiding place as he orders his remaining lackeys to fire upon anyone who enters the room. Prue squints at the door, slamming it into the remaining lackeys. So much for that idea, Wong, my boy. Tony squeezes off a round in Prue's direction, but Piper flings a last-minute freeze, stopping both Wong and the bullet. Prue gapes at the frozen bullet, then skitters to Piper's side with Phoebe to finish untying her. Wong slides out of the freeze and whirls around to gasp at the Ps. The bullet, meanwhile, smashes through a cheap plaster dragon. Imports, my ass. Prue calmly squints at him, hurling him down the stairs.
Wong darts out of the storefront into the street just as Andy pulls up with a couple of squad cars. The police order Wong to freeze (get it?), but Wong decides to go out in a hail of gunfire. I'm not entirely certain, but I think Andy's the one who kills him. The Glamorous Ladies plus Mark emerge onto a balcony above to gaze down upon the felon's corpse. "I've never seen anybody killed before," Piper innocently breathes. Prue and Phoebe roll their eyes and snort "Javna" and "Jeremy" respectively. "I mean anybody human," Piper hisses, furious that her sisters would blow that whole "caring, tender damsel" thing she's got going with The Corpse About Town. Snicker. Prue orders everyone to scram before Andy sees them.
Tony Wong's "soul" wafts out of his body to make "the hell?" noises. Yes, Tony Wong's Soul. Exactly. Tony Wong's Soul runs around the corner into a convenient alleyway, where he encounters the Ps plus The Corpse About Town. Tony Wong's Soul whimpers something about Mark being dead before Yama-Lama-Ding-Dong materializes on horseback behind him. Mark tosses Tony up against a wall, scowling, "Make a wish, you bastard!" Mark then impales Tony on Ding-Dong's Spear Of Doom. Tony howls and wails and dissolves into a veil of mist that circles Ding-Dong before disappearing into the Hagar helmet. Ding-Dong's eyes glow red for a moment, then shift into green as he canters over to Mark. Piper places herself between Mark and the spear, shrieking, "No! You can't take him! He's a good man!" Prue and Phoebe join Piper to block Mark's spectral form in a show of solidarity. Yama-Lama-Ding-Dong takes a long moment before raising his spear in acknowledgment of the ladies' superior Western sense of morality or whatever, then dematerializes.
Funeral Of Chao. An ovary warbles, "I will know you when I come as we all will come to the door beyond the grave," like, what. The fuck? Piper weeps, and Mark sadly regards his broken mother. After a bit, Mark approaches the gals and urges them to make the most of their lives. He offers a special goodbye to Piper. She can barely speak, what with the tears and all. Then, an enormous wedge of cheese materializes on the edge of the gathering in the form of Mark's dead father. Mark bids them all farewell once more, then turns to join the wedge of cheese. They toss their arms across each other's shoulders and vanish. Piper sobs and chokes through a bit of self-deprecating laughter, "Leave it to me to fall for a dead guy," and I steadfastly reject this reference to the Dolt's existence. Nope. He's not in this episode, so I'm not going to think about him. No way. Sorry. Dolt who? Exactly.
Fuck. Me.
Phoebe gives Piper a comforting hug, and the scene dissolves to a shot of the ladies entering the Manor post-funeral. Prue announces that she's changed her mind regarding the party. Piper smirks, takes Prue's hand, and leads her into the parlor. About thirty people we've never seen before and shall never see again holler, "Surprise!" Prue giggles gleefully. "I got ya, didn't I?" Piper grins. Prue, speechless, simply beams and nods her head. She spies Andy standing by the mantelpiece with a cocktail all "I hope the whole ex-wife thing doesn't prevent us from getting naked with each other in the future," and Prue's smile brightens even more. The camera lingers on her happiness as we fade to black.
time, Prue's stalked by a cripple who secretly wishes he were Fred Astaire. Hey, Prue! What's the hardest thing to eat in a vegetable? The wheelchair!