SunMoonStar is that feeling you get when you look into the mirror and realize you're having a fabulous hair day.
Speaking of fabulous hair days, we fade up on a sullen, whey-faced Goth chick who doesn't appear to have had a fabulous hair day in quite some time. As a matter of fact, with that tragic home dye job she's sporting, she won't be having fabulous hair days at any point in the foreseeable future, either. Her black lipstick and ebony nail polish indicate she's the sort of lumpen social outcast who will receive a Very Important Lesson About Life And Proper Beauty Techniques from the Glamorous Ladies of Halliwell Manor before the evening is over. That is, if she doesn't get bumped off before we hit the opening credits. So, the fashion miscarriage sits cross-legged within a circle of black candles beneath a full-length, free-standing mirror while fiddling with an idol of some sort, before pivoting to light the final candle in the circle. She then begins to chant, "Come to me, Kali -- I conjure thee, Kali." Kali, huh? Well, they've already pissed off the Muslims, so I suppose it's time the Hindus got their scanties in a wad as well. After a bit of the chanting, the miscarriage's full-length mirror glows blue, and a back-lit blonde with enormous, fried Knots Landing hair and a white Bonnie-Tyler-esque diaphanous frock materializes within the glass. The apparition appears to have shaved off her eyebrows and drawn them back in with a pencil, and her tits are fake. What? Oh, can it. The actress was a featured player on Baywatch. Do the friggin' math.
Once she's settled into the miscarriage's mirror, Kali coos, "I'm here, Aviva." Oh, Lord. "Aviva"? Apologies in advance if you share the character's name, but "Aviva" sounds like a line of beauty products one would find featured on QVC, which, given the wretched state of Aviva's 'do and the Siouxsie Sioux makeup she's plastered onto her face, is somewhat amusing. Well, somewhat more amusing than the other consumer item the name evokes, which would be a sporty little line of coupes marketed to young urban women. "Visit your local Chrysler dealer for zero money down and oh-point-oh financing on the 2003 Avivas today!" Despite her Knots Landing hair and those fake boobs, I have to credit the actress playing Kali for her mastery of that mellifluent, saccharine tone of voice beloved by all those women who end up playing fairy godmothers at some point in their careers. She sounds like Glinda The Good Witch would have if Billie Burke had refrained from huffing helium right before every take. From her seat on the carpet, Aviva rather desperately notes, "It's been over a week." Aviva's done everything Kali told her to do -- she's stalked the Glamorous Ladies and knows their "every move" -- what more could Kali want from her? Kali counsels patience. Everything Aviva has learned about the Ps will be put to use shortly. "You must make them want you as badly as you want them," Kali croons. A suspicious scratching at Aviva's closet door draws her attention away from the conversation for a moment. Hmmm. I wonder what clawed character on this show would be wanting to free himself from the closet? Aviva shrugs off the noise to tell the apparition that she spoke with her mother that afternoon. Kali, with an overly melodious voice, practically sings, "How is she?" Oh, yeah. Just from the line readings, you'd know she's some sort of foul demonic force, even if they hadn't given her the name of a fanged Hindu Hell-goddess who uses dead babies as earrings.
After a bit of chat regarding Aviva's absent mother, Kali asks if Aviva's ready to receive the "sacred power." "You know I am," Aviva replies with a grin. Kali warns Aviva not to use the power without Kali's consent, then instructs her to stretch her hands towards the mirror. Aviva's palms glow orange as their owner gasps and pants a bit. Kali then orders Aviva over to Halliwell Manor for some more surveillance work. Aviva leaps to her feet, snatches her jacket from the hook on the closet door, and races out of her room. Once she's gone, Kali drops her head, and a veil of flame appears at her feet to rise up through the mirror until the light therein has shifted from light blue to a blazing yellow. Kali lifts her head, and the camera zooms in on her face so we can appreciate the colored contacts they shoved into the actress's head. Her irises are cat's-eye yellow with blood-red whites backing them up. Kali smiles. Evilly.
Manor. Piper sits in the parlor, riffling through a sheaf of "Lost Cat" flyers featuring Kit's annoyed little face. Didn't have to wait very long for an answer to my question, did I? The camera tracks back to take in the Dolt (Aauuuugh!) striding into the parlor from the sun porch. He's wearing a green t-shirt over a faded pair of Levi's, with a toolbelt. Shut up, Dolt. Piper eyes him as he crosses to the mantelpiece and removes the screen. He kneels on the carpet and shoves his head into the fireplace, and oh God, what I wouldn't give for the logs to ignite spontaneously. Doesn't happen. What I do get is a twenty-second-long Piper POV of his denim-clad ass, as if last week's episode weren't hideous enough and I deserve further torture at the hands of Connie & Co. All of you jackholes at Spelling Television can blow me. Oh, and: Shut up, Dolt's ass.
Phoebe enters, and the two ladies "admire" the view while letting us know that the Dolt is actually searching for Kit in the fireplace. Moron. Of course, he finds nothing but clumps of ash packed against the sides of the chimney, so he withdraws from the flue to ask if they've tried the animal shelter. They have, but no one has seen their gender-confused familiar with the distinctive triquatra-engraved collar. Piper rises to her feet to ask if the Dolt would like something to eat. "I'm sure you must be hungry after all that work." The Dolt pshaws with a smile. I must admit, Brian Krause looks almost boyish in these early episodes. He's obviously one of those guys -- you know, the kind of guy who wanders through far too many of his adult years looking like a college sophomore until one day all of the keg parties and bong hits and tanning sessions catch up with him and suddenly, overnight, he looks like a haggard, wizened rent boy several decades past his expiration date. See Woody Harrelson for another example of this unfortunate phenomenon. Kerr Smith? We're counting the hours, you jackass. Anyway, Phoebe snickers and, still trying to get herself a little Dolt action, instructs the idiot to think of Piper as his mother, what with the smothering offers of food and such. Piper shoots Phoebe a scorching side-eye that by all rights should boil the saline right out of her implants. The Dolt guhs that he'll take Piper up on her offer after he's hung some of the "Lost Cat" flyers around the neighborhood. He then dolts his way right into the forgotten fireplace screen, nearly falling face-first over the thing just so we can get a few more shots of his ass. Once he's wandered from the room, Phoebe swoons, "Quite possibly the finest glutes in the city." "In the state," Piper amends. "In all the land," Phoebe finishes with appropriate hand gestures. Don't make me hurt you, ladies. Knock it off. Both of you.
The gals bicker over who gets dibs on the Dolt -- Dolt dibs, if you will -- and then we're off to the street, where the Dolt affixes a flyer to a signpost. "Missing!" the flyer screams. "Reward!" the flyer promises. "555-0198!" the flyer urges. And then it fucks everything up when it gives the Manor address as "7571 Prescott Street." Wrong. Aviva testily sneers at the Dolt as he strolls past her vintage convertible, like, where did she get that car? It's always the little white-girl Princesses Of Privilege who paint their fingernails black and pen God-awful poetry while mooning over Robert Smith, when they're not busy conjuring baby-wearing Hindu Hell-goddesses in their bedroom mirrors. Typical. Aviva swivels her pretentious head to focus on the freshly-affixed flyer and squints. The blameless sheet of paper bursts into flame as Aviva smirks her way into the opening credits. Great. Another goddamned adolescent fire-starter.
Manor. Piper heats a danish in the microwave, pours out a glass of milk, then totes the two items out of the kitchen into the front hall, where the Dolt perches on a ladder, examining the wall. Piper flirtatiously passes him the food. The Dolt flirtatiously accepts it. This budding relationship promises to annoy the living piss out of me. Phoebe and Prue descend the stairs at this moment, with Phoebe blithering something about Prue needing "one hot night" with Detective Andy "to get things back on track." Phoebe spots the Dolt high upon his ladder and shuts her yammering trap. Prue greets him, asking how much longer his repair work will last. He admits that he's nearly done, leading Phoebe to pose "seductively" against the wall and pout something about keeping the Dolt around a little bit longer. Piper glares at Phoebe's low-riding lavender top and sneers, "Nice outfit. For nine o'clock in the morning with no place to go." "I'm glad you like it," Phoebe blithely replies. The Dolt obliviously sips his milk, which leaves him with a white moustache that makes me squirm with discomfort and disgust. Phoebe jiggles over to him to run her thumb along his upper lip by way of removing the stuff. The two giggle at each other as Piper's eyes spin around in her skull. "Phoebe," Prue barks. "Come here." Phoebe ignores her. "Phoebe!" Prue snarls, yanking on her sister's arm to drag her out of the hall. Snicker.
Prue pedebitches into the kitchen, trailed by the tramp. Ever the multi-tasker, Prue fetches a couple of cups of coffee while calling Phoebe onto the carpet for whoring in on the object of Piper's affection. "I think Piper really likes [the Dolt]," Prue emphasizes. "Point being?" Phoebe all-too-innocently asks. Prue rolls her eyes slightly and dismissively intones, "Never mind. Classic Phoebe." The tramp takes umbrage at Prue's implication. "Okay, look, Prue: I think we need to put some major closure on this, or we'll be in rocking chairs slurping oatmeal out of rubber spoons, and I'm still gonna hear about Roger." Well, no. You don't need closure and you won't be in rocking chairs together, for reasons of which we are all well aware. Prue simply smirks, waiting for Phoebe to draw out enough rope to hang herself. "Piper!" blurts Phoebe as the sister in question enters the room. "Am I a boyfriend thief?" Wrong person to ask. Piper takes a moment to stare at Phoebe, then deadpans, "Totally." Phoebe's outraged. "Besides Roger," Phoebe prompts her, before adding, "Whom again, Prue, I never touched." Piper immediately reminds Phoebe of a certain Billy Wilson, whom Phoebe kissed at Homecoming in the eighth grade. Phoebe strenuously denies this accusation as Prue purses her lips, arches an amused brow, and darts her eyes back and forth between the combatants as if following a particularly bitchy tennis match. "I was just trying to help him find a contact lens!" Phoebe howls. "Oh, please!" Piper snarls, losing a bit of her composure. "You were all over him with your breasts all..." Piper inserts appropriate titties-popping-out-everywhere hand gestures. Heh. "I didn't even have breasts back then!" Phoebe shrieks. Piper coolly cuts through the crap: "Phoebe. You always had breasts." Prue finally breaks in with a wide grin on her face to remind the two that she'll be needing the Manor to herself that evening, as she intends to entertain her good detective and would appreciate the privacy. Prue then takes leave of her sisters and heads off to work. Piper and Phoebe hiss and scratch at each other for a bit before agreeing that the Dolt dibs shall go to the Glamorous Lady who manages to land him first. Nice scene.
House Of Aviva. The mopey nose-picker in question sprawls on her bed, sullenly scribbling into her diary. "Aunt Jackie" bangs on the door for a bit before barging in, and look! It's Phoebe's new boss Elise! I apologize for sending you to that particular page, what with the horrific unpleasantness it details, though you must admit there is a bit of the lovely symmetry thing involved, no? It all starts out right here in this episode with an innocent danish and glass of milk, and ends up over there on the floor of P3 with the Dolt shoving a beer bottle into Piper's cooter.
So.
Back to the current recap, then, okay? Aunt Jackie is not an intrepid tabloid editor in this episode, by the way. She actually appears to be a waitress. She and Aviva snipe at each other, with Aviva pulling the kind of tedious, pubescent "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND ME!" crap that makes me want to plunge through the television screen and whack her in the teeth with my remote control. Jackie, meanwhile, bemoans the fact that her niece is a surly, ungrateful little brat. We also learn that Aviva's mother is in rehab, and that Mother and Jackie have a strained relationship. Jackie leaves. Aviva whines. Whatever.
Random video store. Prue and Andy examine various offerings from different sections. Andy asks Prue if she's seen Lethal Weapon 3. Prue snarks that his choice "is not very romantic" before holding up her own pick, Double Indemnity. Which she has retrieved from the section marked "Romance." Barbara Stanwyck convinces Fred MacMurray to toss her husband off a moving train for the insurance money, Fred MacMurray ends up on his way to jail with a bullet in his gut for his troubles, and this is a romance? Must be the moist-making presence of Edward G. Robinson. I know my heart sets to fluttering whenever a squat, middle-aged man lectures me on the titillating topic of actuarial tables. Andy objects, because the movie is in black-and-white. Prue is quite rightly disturbed by this information. A clerk overhears their conversation and offers to assist them. They accept his offer and send him on his way. "Doesn't really matter what we pick, anyway," Andy casually notes. "Probably never get around to watching it." Prue's eyebrows shoot skyward in shock, appalled at his presumptuous gall. "Pretty cocky," she sniffs demurely. Andy shoots her a devilish look before elaborating, "What I meant was, something always seems to come up." He pauses just long enough for me to snicker helplessly like the filthy adolescent I really am before adding, "Get in our way." He sidles over to her side of the aisle to tower above her. Prue stammers, "That's not true!" Andy smirks. Prue splutters, "Okay, sometimes it's true, but there's always a perfectly good reason!" Andy calls her on this with a coy half-smile. "There's never a reason -- good, bad, or otherwise." They're about to jump each other right in the middle of the store, and I say good for them. Prue promises he'll have her undivided attention that evening. "Nothing -- and I mean nothing -- will get in our way." "I'll hold you to that," he smooths, pulling her close for a kiss. The clerk pops back into the frame with a copy of Body Heat. "We'll take it," Prue and Andy respond in unison. Oh, ew! That movie has the same damn plot as the Stanwyck flick, with the extra-special added foulness that is William Hurt and Ted Danson proudly displaying their pit stains. Rent To Die For if you've got a jones for similar stories. Otherwise, latch on to Wild Things and call it a goddamn day.
House Of Aviva. The mopey snot-nosed miscarriage invokes Kali, who promptly appears in the mirror. Aviva pisses and moans about her "stupid" aunt, and wonders why she can't reveal herself to the Glamorous Ladies now, dammit! Kali reminds Aviva that she must receive an invitation from the Ps "to join their coven" before filling the gals in on her little secret. Aviva vows she's up to the task, so Kali tosses a little TK at the closet door, which creaks open to free Kit from its confines. Kali instructs Aviva to return the cat to the sisters, after which, presumably, they will welcome her with open arms. Yeah, like that's gonna happen.
Manor. Piper ambles through the front hall to flirt some more with the Dolt. She reveals that Prue would like an evening alone in the Manor, so she was about to head out to a movie. She flutters nervously a bit as she asks if he would he care to join her. He claims he can't, then remarks that the extensive woodwork around the arches and the doorways is original to the house and should be sanded down and stained, rather than painted over. I hate it when the Dolt is right. Piper titters something supposedly relevant about risotto and Minute Rice, then suggests he swing by [72virg=ins] the following afternoon with some of his "stain samples," and I never needed to hear a damn thing about the Dolt's stain samples. Ew. He agrees to the meeting, then shyly asks if she was serious about heading to the movies just as the doorbell rings.
Phoebe clomps out from the parlor to answer it and discovers Aviva on the front porch with Kit in her arms. Phoebe's ecstatic over the return of the beast. Aviva, meanwhile, suspiciously elbows her way into the Manor to look around. Phoebe wrinkles her nose a bit at this rude behavior, but escorts Aviva into the parlor despite the morose snot-picking miscarriage's obnoxious lack of manners. They're joined by Piper and the Dolt, who stupidly mentions the movie thing in front of Phoebe. Phoebe, of course, invites herself along, to Piper's immense annoyance. The Dolt heads off to wash up as Piper gives Kit a brief cuddle before rising to fetch her purse. Aviva insists that the promised reward isn't necessary just as Prue traipses in from the sun porch with Andy. Prue's eyes bug out as she grits, "Hey! I thought we all had plans tonight?" Phoebe introduces Aviva, and Prue immediately offers the girl fifty bucks to get the hell out of the Manor. I mean, "as a reward." Aviva again insists that the reward is not necessary, adding that she merely wants to speak with the Ps. "About what?" Prue asks. "About Wicca," Aviva replies. The ladies dart their eyes from Andy to the Dolt and back again as their collective blood pressure rises. Prue pushes Andy off to chat with the Dolt while Piper and Phoebe try to strong-arm Aviva towards the front door. Aviva stubbornly holds her ground and refuses to leave, moaning, "Don't you understand? I'm one of you!" To prove this, she raises a hand in Andy's direction. The product-placed stove-top popcorn product in his hand expands, seemingly of its own accord. Should I bother mentioning that he's holding it to his crotch? Piper freaks and shrieks and freezes the two men. Aviva, unfortunately, remains unaffected by the freeze, and wanders around the boys, murmuring, "Very cool." Piper hisses that they have twenty seconds to resolve the situation before Andy and the Dolt unfreeze. "Okay," Prue sneers, "you need to get out of here. Now." "Why?" Aviva snots. "Because we don't know who the hell you are, you whiny, hateful, home-invading bitch!" The "whiny, hateful home-invading bitch" part was mine. Aviva whinges that she "just saved [their] cat," and insists that she will not be treated so coldly. To emphasize her point, she shoots some heated mojo at the forgotten videocassette in Prue's hand. The tape smokes, and Prue drops it to the carpet, gasping in surprise at the cassette's sudden rise in temperature. Aviva fixes her face with a bratty smirk and strides out towards the front door just as the boys unfreeze. The product-placed popcorn product explodes, showering the gentlemen with its contents. The gals, wreathed in smoke from the ruined copy of Body Heat, stutter and stammer into the commercial break.
House Of Aviva. The sniveling, snot-nosed, morose, mopey miscarriage kneels once more in her circle of candles, complaining about the treatment she received at the hands of the Ps. Kali suggests that Aviva avoid Prue in the future. Prue, you see, is the "strongest," and therefore the Halliwell most likely to resist Aviva's advances. Whom should Aviva target, then? Why, a certain dimwitted, harebrained life support system for a pair of Fun Bags, of course. Phoebe, like Aviva, is still "searching for someone to relate to -- someone to share her witchcraft with," and is therefore the sister most likely to adopt stray miscarriages. Aviva's suddenly uncertain, and wonders what Kali will get out of all of this should Aviva's infiltration of the Manor succeed. Kali, of course, is after the Power of Three. Somehow, once Aviva tricks Phoebe into "coveting" Aviva's pyrokinesis, the "old and powerful Halliwell magic" will drain from the sisters and enter the mirror-bound demonette. No, I don't get it either, and by this point, I know better than to ask. Or to care.
Manor, the following day. Up in the kitchen, Prue's on the cordless with Andy, attempting to apologize for their hastily-aborted plans to fornicate the evening. Andy gives her guff about shoving him out of the Manor with no explanation, leading Prue to natter on and on about her characteristic unpredictability and whatnot. She can't explain why she had to bail, because doing so would entail revealing another person's "secret." She promises to make it up to him, and they agree to meet at the house at eight o'clock that evening. Prue bleakly hangs up on him, examines the scorched videocassette, and vows to rip Aviva a new one should she ever see the bitch again.
As Prue stomps into the laundry room, Piper and Phoebe appear to process the evening's events. Prue believes Aviva is a Hell-sent mutant freakshow who's out to expose them to the world at large and therefore must be destroyed. Phoebe suggests that Aviva's "just a kid" who deserves their sympathy and aid. Piper heads straight down the center of the argument, urging Prue to remain somewhat open-minded about the girl who might be the first fellow witch they've encountered while counseling Phoebe to be a bit more skeptical about Aviva's claims. Phoebe, who lets slip her jealousy of Aviva's pyrokinesis, is wearing a sleeveless blue turtleneck that makes her breasts look immense, and I think we have our first bona-fide Halliwell tit-sling of the series. Prue and Piper head off to their respective places of employment, foolishly leaving the Feebs to her own devices. Immediately, the telephone rings. Yes, it's the sniveling, snot-nosed miscarriage, and she'd like very much to chat with the simp with the ginormous hooters.
Later that day, the simp with the ginormous hooters meets the sniveling, snot-nosed miscarriage at her high school. Aviva ducks out through the padlocked fence to ditch the rest of her classes in favor of hanging with the Feebs for the remainder of the afternoon. She leads Phoebe over to the convertible, promising to tell her everything she wants to know. First things first, though -- Aviva asks, "You didn't tell your bitch sister about this, did you?" Phoebe's shocked -- shocked -- at the salty language, but understands instantly that Aviva's referring to Prue. Heh. Phoebe correctly insists Prue had every right to be angry with the mopey miscarriage for her actions the evening, but Aviva just rolls her eyes. Smacking the teeth right out of her skull is what I'd be doing right about now. Roll your eyes at me, huh? I'll roll your damn head across the floor, you whiny little hag.
[72virg=ins]. The Dolt wanders through the bar area, searching for Piper. She surprises him from behind and perks, "Table for one, sir?" He grins, and expresses his pleased astonishment at the restaurant. "You own this place?" he asks. Piper reluctantly admits that she's simply the manager as she escorts him to a seat. The Dolt whips out his stain samples -- ew -- and explains that he "only brought the ones authentic to the era in which [the Manor] was built." Piper pretends she gives a shit, then offers him a meal on the house. The Dolt smarms something about chefs being second only to medicine men in the Mayan hierarchy, like, hold up a second there, Bucky. Knowing what we do about the Dolt, does this mean he and Piper are reincarnations of the Mayan elite? If so, it becomes clear why that civilization disintegrated. Conquistadors, my ass. And why in hell did they ever introduce this character? I. Despise. Him. Shut up, Dolt. The conversation awkwardly segues over to the topic of Phoebe. "Does she work here too?" the Dolt asks. "Phoebe? Work?" Piper calmly replies. "Oh, no. She's probably at her gay and lesbian group right about now. Are you ready to order?" She casually passes him a menu. Whee! I know I should not approve of this particular tactic, but, hey. As long as she's slamming the Feebs, all is right with the world.
Manor. Phoebe's leading Aviva on a tour of the lower level. Aviva slyly wonders what gives with the Dolt. Yes, Phoebe. Explain. Phoebe smirks and admits that she and Piper are engaged in a little sibling battle over who gets the "pleasure" of his company. That's not the sort of answer I was looking for. Aviva suggests Phoebe tilt things in her favor by using her powers. Phoebe grimaces ever so slightly as the two reach the sun porch. They sit on a pair of wicker chairs, and Phoebe finally asks Aviva to level with her: How did Aviva learn of the Glamorous Ladies? Aviva dissembles that she has "this teacher" who's "sort of like a high priestess." This person gave her the entire Charmed Ones story, and assured her she'd like Phoebe the most. Phoebe notes she'd like to meet this woman. Aviva smiles and agrees, but suggests that they head to Phoebe's boudoir first. Aviva has something she'd like to share with the dimwit. To her credit, Phoebe clearly harbors doubts about all this, but cautiously decides to see where it leads anyway.
Bimbo Boudoir, and I find myself sliding into a bizarre lesbian netherworld. You think I'm kidding? Read on. Over at Phoebe's vanity, Aviva smears more black lipstick around her mouth, as if the stuff weren't already so thick that it's flaking off in clumps. She reveals that mirrors are her favorite things in the world, because "they never lie, whether you like it or not." Phoebe appears in the mirror behind her, silently listening to Aviva's monologue. The girl shrugs her shoulders a bit and, referring to her lipstick, continues, "Basic black. It's the color of my soul." Phoebe smirks and shakes her head. "Your soul is not black," she claims. Aviva grins, "You know the feeling that I mean -- you're different. You'll never want what they want." She levels her gaze at Phoebe's in the reflection and whispers, "You belong on the edge. We aren't 'pink people,' Phoebe." Aviva turns to face her hostess. "Do you want to see something incredible?" she offers. "Better yet, do you want to try it?" Phoebe suspiciously side-eyes, "Try what?" "I'll show you my power if you show me yours," Aviva simpers. I do believe a girl-on-girl seduction scene just flew in beneath the censor's radar. I also spy a rant approaching, but first, let's see what Prue's up to down in the kitchen, shall we?
Not much, as it turns out. Prue barges in through the back door and hollers, "Innybody home?" Not waiting for an answer, she mutters, "Better not be," and flings her purse down onto the counter.
Bisexual Boudoir. Aviva and Phoebe sit facing each other on the floor beneath Phoebe's full-length free-standing mirror. They slowly link hands and, well, it's no Willow and Tara, thank God, but it is undeniably disturbing. Aviva giggles and shoots a surreptitious glance over at the mirror. Kali blinks in and nods, unnoticed by the Feebs. "She's giving it to you, too!" Aviva pants. Phoebe's clueless, so Aviva slides a nearby flowerpot over and -- get this -- instructs Phoebe to insert a finger. Phoebe's index finger burns bright with the white-hot passion of forbidden first-time lesbionic love, and the flowers bloom. "Whoa!" Phoebe breathes. Somewhere, Georgia O'Keeffe spins in her grave. Prue bursts in unannounced, pulls herself up short for a moment to gasp, and then shrieks, "What are you doing?" Heh. She's going to have Aviva arrested and then send Phoebe off for shock treatments, isn't she? Caught -- if you'll forgive me -- red-handed, the women leap to their feet. Phoebe's mortified and apologetic. Aviva's rude and obnoxious. She orders Prue -- Prue! -- out of Phoebe's room, then wheels on Phoebe to snarl, "She treats you worse than my aunt treats me!" Prue dearly wants to TK the snotty little bisexual miscarriage out the window, but unfortunately is interrupted by the doorbell. She shoots a withering glare at the intrusive nose-picker, then spins on her heel to answer the door. Phoebe rolls her eyes in defeat and follows Prue while Aviva extinguishes the candles on the floor.
I'd normally pitch a fit at this juncture, what with the offensive implication that as a result of parental neglect, Aviva has fallen into the destructive and toxic Goth lifestyle and -- by extension -- paganism and bisexuality, but you know what? I feel like I've been there and done that already to a certain extent, and besides, you won't be catching me chanting "Free the West Memphis Three" in the middle of Logan Airport anytime soon, so whatever. I suppose the difference between maligned, disenfranchised Goth princesses and maligned, disenfranchised gay vampires is great enough to warrant separate attacks on each episode's offensive assumptions, but the ultimate sentiment is much the same: Aaron Spelling should be shot in the head. Fucker.
Christ.
ANYway, Prue answers the door to find Andy, sweet sweet Andy, standing on the porch with a bottle of Chianti. Phoebe barrels down the stairs behind them, followed closely by Aviva. Phoebe bleats "I'm so sorry" over and over again. Andy takes one look at the Feebs and guesses that his date with Prue has been postponed yet again. Prue sighs mightily and begs him to understand that she has no control over the situation. She promises to explain everything to him the following afternoon at [72virg=ins]. Andy shakes his head in disappointment, but agrees to meet Prue for lunch.
After he's gone, Prue whirls around, ready to rip Phoebe's arm from its socket and beat her to death with her own elbow. Phoebe insists that Prue should give Aviva a chance, but Prue's having none of it. Aviva blows through the front hall to throw some more attitude at Prue before heading out the front door. Prue really needs to TK the little bitch under a bus.
House Of Aviva. "If it weren't for Prue, Phoebe would be with us now," Kali chimes. The snotty little nose-picking miscarriage brats, "I hate her and I wish she were dead!" I'm not even going to bother with the requisite Prue-as-corpse joke, because I just want someone -- anyone -- to beat this wench to a bloody pulp before I put my foot through the goddamn TV. Aunt Jackie tears into the bedroom, furious that her sniveling git of a charge skipped school that day. She spots the candles on the floor and screams, "What's going on in here?" Aviva howls and Kali shrieks and a candle flares and Aunt Jackie's skirt catches on it to erupt into flame and now she's howling and shrieking and batting at her skirt and Aviva wails and Aunt Jackie backs out of the bedroom to fall down the stairs and Aviva emerges onto the landing to scream and howl and shriek and wail and finally we cut blissfully away from this aural nightmare to commercial. WHY do they SCREAM so damn much in these early episodes?
Back from the break, paramedics wheel Aunt Jackie out of the house as the snot-licking miscarriage dejectedly clomps back up the stairs to her room. Once there, Kali asks Aviva what she told the police. She pretty much told them the truth, except for the bit about the ancient Hindu Hell-goddess with the unusual accessories who's living in her mirror. Aviva wants to flee San Francisco before Aunt Jackie wakes up in the hospital, and I cry, "Run! Run like the wind!" Kali is of a different opinion, and as she's the one running the show at the moment, Aviva listens to her rather than to me. Dammit. Kali instructs Aviva to return to the Manor to "take Prue's place in the Power of Three." "Piper won't stop you," she coos, "and Phoebe's already an ally." Aviva is, of course, to kill Prue, and yet for some reason this doesn't seem to bother the sniveling little cow in the least. I hope the Glamorous Ladies just vanquish her misbegotten ass rather than attempt to reform her. Can you tell I'm done with Aviva already? Sad, because we still have twenty minutes left in the show.
Manor. Phoebe passes Aviva a cup of tea as Piper returns from the phone to confirm that the misbegotten wench's aunt really was admitted to the hospital that evening. Aviva pleads with Prue to allow her to spend the night with the Ps, and promises to tell all in the morning. Phoebe notes that Aviva can bed down in her room. Prue coolly evaluates Aviva for a moment, then relents with a warning: "No muff-diving." Oh! Ow! Where'd that come from? I'm sorry -- she said, "No magic." Whoops! Wow.
Bisexual Boudoir. Aviva's curled up on a small sofa to Phoebe's bed. Kali materializes in Phoebe's mirror to order, "Now! Go to Prue!" Aviva quietly slips out into the hallway. Unbeknownst to the misbegotten miscarriage, Kali's wicked cat's eyes have flipped into place, and the harsh orange light from her Hell dimension casts an eerie glow throughout the bedroom.
Aviva eases open the door to Prue's bedroom to gaze at her sleeping form for a moment. She draws back her hand to incinerate Prue, but is interrupted by a sleepless Piper, who's apparently wandering aimlessly though the Manor in the middle of the night in her bathrobe. Aviva claims she was looking for the toilet. Piper directs her to the correct door, then looks in on Prue with mounting concern worrying her brow.
The following morning, Prue announces that she's headed to the hospital to speak with Aviva's aunt, and that she needs to have a sit-down with the mopey bisexual nose-picker when she returns. Over at the hospital, Aunt Jackie can't quite understand how Aviva knows the Glamorous Ladies. Prue patiently explains that Aviva returned their lost cat. "So that's what she was hiding," Jackie mutters, and describes the sordid circumstances of Kit's captivity. "You're lucky she didn't sacrifice the poor thing," Jackie finishes. Prue's all, "The hell?" Jackie exposits that Aviva is "a very troubled kid" who "has no friends" and is always locked in her bedroom, chanting. I realize you just took a terrific spill down the stairs, honey, but we already know this. Let's move it along. "Sometimes I swear I even hear other voices," Jackie confides. Okay, I guess that's new. Irrelevant, but new. Prue asks if she can stop by Jackie's home to collect a few of Aviva's belongings. Jackie graciously tells Prue that that would be fine.
[72virg=ins]. Andy's in the process of being stood up by Prue yet again. Piper apologizes on her sister's behalf, but Andy's over it and storms out of there after flinging down a couple of bucks for his coffee.
House Of Aviva. Prue wanders through the snot-nosed miscarriage's bedroom to find the candles and the idol stowed away in the closet. For the briefest of moments, Kali flares up in the mirror behind her. Prue turns, but sees nothing save her own reflection. She does spy Aviva's diary protruding from beneath the bed, however, and picks it up to open to the most recent entry. "Kali says we're close to taking over the Halliwell Coven," it reads. "I hate lying to them." Prue. Wigs. She punches the Manor's number into her cell and, upon reaching Phoebe, orders her to get Piper back to the house for a summit immediately. "And whatever you do," she adds, "do not let Aviva out of your sight, okay?"
So what does Phoebe do? She sends Aviva upstairs to bed, because Aviva says her tummy hurts. Bonehead.
Once upstairs, Aviva retrieves her backpack from Phoebe's room, then silently crosses the hall to Prue's room.
Down in the main hallway, the Dolt examines his handiwork for errors as Phoebe sorts through the mail. He announces that he's pretty much finished, but he'll stop by the following afternoon to make sure everyone's happy with the job he's done. Phoebe awws and says she's sorry to see him go. Awkward pause. "What?" Phoebe asks. "Uhhnnh," derrs the Dolt. "Just out of curiosity," he finally begins, "are you and Aviva...? Uh, I mean, Piper said that --" "Piper said what?" Phoebe spits. "Uh, nothing," he replies, bobbling his head around like a heavily-stoned Valley Girl while shrugging his shoulders. "I think I need to, uh, wash my hands." Ew! But also: Heh! Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have a first. The Dolt -- the Dolt -- made me snicker.
Lair Of The Prueminator. Aviva lights her candles and sighs.
Kitchen. Phoebe trails the Dolt over to the sink, demanding to know what Piper said about her. The Dolt waves his hands around dismissively. Phoebe gets a glint of realization in her eyes and warns him to take whatever Piper tells him with a grain of salt, because sometimes her "medications" make her say silly things. "Don't worry, though," she adds. "Her shrinks are on it." Should I? I should: Shut up, Phoebe. And shoot Aaron Spelling in the head while you're at it. See above and connect the dots for a reason why, and don't bother with the stroppy emails decrying my lack of sensitivity for the psychologically disadvantaged. Piper telling the Dolt that Phoebe's a lesbian? Fine by me. Questionable tactic, certainly, but not beyond the pale. Phoebe retaliating by claiming Piper's psychotic, as if the two were in any way equivalent? Uh-uh. No way. Go to hell, Phoebe, and be sure to take Aaron Spelling and Brad Kern with you. Connie Burge can stay. For now. Phoebe snickers at her own audacity, then notices Aviva's jacket on one of the chairs. She picks it up, and is flung into a premonition. Prue enters her bedroom to find Aviva kneeling on the floor. Aviva hurls a fireball -- in color, no less -- at Prue's head. Phoebe comes to and gasps in horror. As the Dolt notes that Prue's arrived home, Phoebe whips around to race up the stairs.
Up in Prue's bedroom, Aviva crouches on the carpet, flame-throwing hand at the ready. Phoebe slams into the room with Aviva's jacket held up as a shield before her body. Aviva's fireball scorches the jacket instead of Phoebe's dim little head. Phoebe stomps the flaming rag out on the floor as Aviva tries to apologize. Phoebe shoots metaphoric death rays from her eyes, and Aviva scampers from the bedroom with her tail between her legs. Um, the tail's metaphoric, as well. Just in case you were unclear about that. Phoebe clenches her jaw and stares out into the commercial break.
Manor. Aftermath. Piper fetches an ice pack from the freezer for the first-degree burn on Phoebe's forearm. Insert your own "gee, I sure hope the hair doesn't grow back in all patchy or anything" snideness here. Piper and Prue offer to take Phoebe to the hospital, but she insists she's fine. The Dolt wonders how it all happened. Phoebe lies to him, claiming that Aviva had a candle lit and the jacket must have gotten too close to the flame. The gals send the Dolt on his way; then Prue asks, "Okay, what really happened up there?" Phoebe fills them in on the details, then apologizes for not heeding Prue's numerous warnings regarding their demonic houseguest. Prue accepts the apology, but corrects Phoebe on one point -- Aviva's not evil, but she is being used by an evil entity. No, Prue. Aviva is evil, and must be destroyed. Trust me on this one. I'll be happy you did. The Ps head up to the attic to abuse the Book of Shadows.
House Of Aviva. The sniveling, snot-nosed, morose, mopey, misbegotten, bisexual miscarriage shoves clothing into an overnight bag. Kali flares into the mirror, demanding an explanation. Aviva squeals that she doesn't want to be a witch anymore, and there's nothing Kali can do about it! Kali allows a sickly-sweet smile to settle on her face, and asks for a goodbye touch from Aviva. "Don't worry," she soothes. "I'm not angry. Just touch the mirror." The sniveling, snot-nosed, morose, mopey, misbegotten, bisexual fool of a miscarriage does so, and of course, Kali streams out of the mirror to possess Aviva's body. The camera pulls close to Kaviva's face so that we can all appreciate the demonic colored contacts they've jammed into the actress's skull. By the way, the contact in her left eye is slightly off-center, so we're dealing with a wall-eyed bisexual nose-picking demonette here. Freaky.
Attic. The entry for Kali defines her as "an evil sorceress cursed into her own dimension. She appears in reflections and has the power to possess innocents, and uses them as pawns to steal a witch's power." The vanquish is relatively simple -- all they need do is trap Kali in a mirror, and then shatter the reflection. Kaviva bangs open the attic door at this moment to sneer, "Hello, Phoebe! How's the arm?" Kaviva then hurls a fireball at the three Ps. Prue shoves Phoebe and Piper in one direction before throwing herself in the other. An ancient floral-patterned hatbox blazes its merry way down to Hell. Aviva regains control of her body long enough to call for help; then Kali snaps back into place. Kaviva unleashes a clot of flame towards Phoebe's head. Phoebe ducks. That antique dress form in the corner? Vanquished. "My power is greater than yours, Prue," Kaviva avers. "It's only a matter of time!" A single, lonely synapse fires in the dark recesses of Phoebe's brain. "Time! That's it! Freeze her, Piper!" Piper frets that Aviva's immune to the gals' powers. Phoebe counters that Aviva might be immune, but Kali certainly won't be. Piper desperately flings out her hands. Aviva biffs face-first into the floorboards. I'll count that towards the smackdown she so richly deserves for her behavior in the last hour. Kali, meanwhile, hangs in the air with her arms outstretched, frozen just as Phoebe promised. Prue squints, TKing Kali into one of Grams's priceless antique mirrors up there in the attic. Phoebe grabs a long-handled fireplace dustpan and hacks at the glass. The mirror explodes outwards as Kali howls her way to Hell. Ahem. I mean, "The Waste Land." Hey, I wonder what that skinny little sandworm is going to do with the hatbox?
Bisexual-No-More Boudoir. Why no more? I'll explain. Aviva received her Very Important Lesson About Proper Beauty Techniques between scenes. The black dye has been rinsed from her naturally-brown hair, and she's sporting some lightly-applied foundation with a just a hint of blush-colored lipstick on her face. Also, Phoebe's lent her a tasteful burgundy-toned dress to wear. You see, now that Aviva no longer looks like a disenfranchised Goth princess, she's no longer a bisexual menace either! Wasn't that easy? You, too, can rid yourself of pesky same-sex attractions just by getting a makeover! I hate this show. Phoebe dispenses some advice of the "high school is hard, but you'll make it through" variety that I won't bother to transcribe, because we've all heard it thousands of times before on other programs. Having thus learned her Very Important Lesson About Life, Aviva makes to leave. Phoebe, however, first elicits a promise that the whole Charmed Ones thing will remain their secret.
Elsewhere in the city, Prue's staking out Andy's condo in the convertible I thought she totaled two episodes ago. He pulls up to the curb behind her, and the two emerge from their respective cars to snarl at each other on the sidewalk. Actually, Andy's doing most of the snarling, while Prue apologizes again and again for blowing him off and pushing him away. Andy believes that he's more invested in the relationship than she is, and resents being kept in the dark so often. He feels she thinks she can't trust him for some reason. Prue denies this, but Andy's not in the mood for her excuses and stomps off into his house alone. Prue closes her eyes wearily and sighs as we fade to black.
Wait. That's it? What an odd, low-key ending for this show.
time, the gals battle a mutant from the future who's intent on altering his past. No, really. No. Really. Have fun.