Just around the corner, a vast crowd of theatergoers throngs the entrance of an unidentified movie house, there to see the San Francisco Cinema Society's presentation of Love's Deadly Desire. I'll take this moment to note that the San Francisco Film Society is unlikely at any point in the near future to screen the Holly Marie Combs estro-fest Love's Deadly Triangle, and I'll leave it at that. In any event, among the anonymous crowd are, unsurprisingly enough, the Glamorous Ladies of Halliwell Manor. Phoebe wanders along the sidewalk to Piper and Prue with a fan of tickets in one hand and a Magic Eight Ball in the other. You want to hear something absolutely pathetic? An acquaintance of mine who shall remain nameless has a Magic Affirmation Ball. He "visualizes" a personal quality of which he should be proud, shakes the Magic Affirmation Ball, then turns it over to receive messages like "Good for you!" and "I knew you were special!" Isn't that raging? True story. Swear to God. Of course, I wouldn't mention this if he actually read these recaps, but he doesn't, so screw his maladjusted, dysfunctional ass.
Anyway, Phoebe shakes her Magic Eight Ball and receives "ASK AGAIN LATER" as a response. Phoebe's pissed. "How am I supposed to plan my future without a little direction?" she pouts as she approaches her sisters. Prue snarks something about Phoebe relying upon a children's toy for information when she has the power of premonition. Phoebe reminds us all -- again -- that she can't use her power for personal gain. Piper darts to Phoebe's side, urging her to ask the Ball if Prue and Andy will ever get back together. Phoebe complies, but neither P shares the "interesting" answer with Prue. "You two are cruel," Prue smirks, snatching the thing from Phoebe's hand as Piper's pager bleeps in the background. Piper looks at the message and grunts, "That was my boss, Martin. I have to get back to the restaurant." "He's working you to death!" Phoebe wails, expositing that Piper's pulled two doubles in as many days, and that tonight was to be her first night off in a week, or something. "Tell him to stuff it!" she orders, as Prue ducks her head to grin wryly at the idea of Piper standing up to any authority figure at all, much less the one who controls her paycheck. Piper, meanwhile, waves Phoebe off and speed-dials [72virg=ins] on her cell. Long story short, Piper immediately caves to her boss's demands and informs Phoebe and Prue that she has to leave. They bust on her amiably for a bit before Phoebe peels off to escort her to the car, leaving Prue alone to hold their place on line.
“ The ladies dart past a knot of gawkers to gaze upon a glaring continuity error. Dr. Mitchell is much as we last saw him -- that is, quite dead, with an ugly, gaping wound on his forehead -- but his irises have magically reappeared. And this episode was going so well. ”
As the two head towards the parking garage, Phoebe inadvertently brushes against the passing undertaker's arm, and is immediately plunged into a premonition. A straggly-haired lass shrieks as a blue laser bores into her skull above the bridge of her nose before she collapses lifeless to the pavement of an outdoor parking lot, her irises replaced by cataracts and an ugly, gaping wound between her eyebrows. Phoebe snaps out of it and screams for Piper as she wheels around, searching for the premonition's source. The undertaker has disappeared. As Phoebe fills Piper in on the details of the vision, a squad car squeals through a nearby intersection and vanishes into the parking garage. The nosy Ps race down the sidewalk to see what gives, followed presently by Prue.
The ladies dart past a knot of gawkers to gaze upon a glaring continuity error. Dr. Mitchell is much as we last saw him -- that is, quite dead, with an ugly, gaping wound on his forehead -- but his irises have magically reappeared. And this episode was going so well. "Oh, my God," Prue breathes. Piper whispers, "Phoebe saw this murder before it happened." "No," Phoebe corrects, inching towards the corpse with dread. "I think I saw the one." Um, duh, sweetie. We know. The gals glance uneasily at each other for a moment before they're overwhelmed by the opening credits.
Opening travelogue. A song I vaguely recognize about "murder in this town" escorts us over to Halliwell Manor, where the Glamorous Ladies go about their individual morning routines in the kitchen. For Piper and Prue, this involves coffee and the newspaper. For the Feebs, it involves mixing three different kinds of pre-sweetened cereal into a single bowl, like, gross. The boxes are prop department mock-ups of fake brands, but they're close enough to Cap'n Crunch, Corn Pops, and Alpha Bits to nauseate me. Can you imagine mixing those three in the same damn bowl? Like I needed another reason to hate Phoebe. Prue pauses as she flicks open the front section of the paper to confirm that her coffee is "leaded." "Always is," Piper vows. Liar. And look at that -- her own elbow betrays her as it biffs into the fake Cap'n Crunch, sending the box toppling. Piper immediately panics and freezes the wayward cereal, then shoves the kitchen garbage bin over so the box and its contents drop into the trash. Why didn't she just tip it back upright onto the counter? Whatever. I don't have time to wonder about such things, for I hear the Dolt approaching. He doofs his way into the kitchen to tell them his work on the staircase shouldn't take more than a couple of days. Piper and Phoebe both smile flirtatiously and scramble over each other to fetch him some coffee. The Dolt grins and dolts out of the kitchen. Jackass. Prue's eye-roll is audible. "Whin are you two going to stop fighting over him and grow up?" "When Phoebe realizes she doesn't have a chance with him," Piper sneers, snatching a coffee cup from Phoebe's claws. Phoebe airily notes that she has an innocent to protect, so there will be a temporary truce in the battle for the Dolt. Piper glowers at her and sails out of the room with the Dolt's coffee.
“ The words are accompanied by a watercolor of a robed figure who I think is meant to be some sort of seer. I can't be entirely certain, because the figure looks like an enormous pink maggot with alarming dorsal fins and a glowy head. ”
Prue takes a moment to stare at Phoebe, then calls her on her crap thusly: "You know you're only into him because Piper is." "That's so not true," Phoebe smarms. "I'm wounded!" Not as wounded as you're going to be after I thwack you in the face with a claw hammer, you sugar-scarfing hag. Oh, leave me alone. You knew I couldn't let that one pass without a comment. Phoebe sets her foul mixture of breakfast cereals on the table and asks if the paper mentions Mitchell's murder. Prue scans the article, but there's not much information to be had. Phoebe proposes that Prue head over to Andy's House Of Beef to see if the good detective has any leads. Prue shoots this cunning plan down immediately, reminding Phoebe that Andy called it quits on their relationship a mere week ago, so he's not likely to reveal police secrets to her any time soon. Phoebe gets shrill, whining once more about that manky-haired woman from her premonition. After a bit of back-and-forth yowling, the ladies agree that Prue will research the premonition woman's manner of death in the Book of Shadows while Phoebe herself will annoy Andy with prying questions.
Attic. Prue dispiritedly leafs through the section entitled "Demons" in the Book before slamming it shut in frustration, muttering, "I don't even know what I'm looking for." As she mopes towards the attic door, The Invisible Spectral Presence Of Grams lines up the Theme Mallet and whacks the Book open to "The Truth Spell," which reads as follows:
For those who want the truth revealed,
Opened hearts, and secrets unsealed
From now until it's now again,
After which the memory ends:
Those who now are in this house
Will hear the truth from other's mouths.
The words are accompanied by a watercolor of a robed figure who I think is meant to be some sort of seer. I can't be entirely certain, because the figure looks like an enormous pink maggot with alarming dorsal fins and a glowy head. This being Prue's first encounter with the meddling ISP Of Grams, she warily picks her way back across the floor to the Book to stare suspiciously at the page. She flips back over to the Demon section, but the ISP Of Grams insistently flips right back to the truth spell. Prue squints with annoyance, shuts the Book once more, and stomps out of the room. The ISP Of Grams snidely hacks the Book open to the spell once more.
“ I've been wondering where all of the actual gay people have been hiding on this show, and now I have one. And he's prissy, lisping, uptight, bloated, snippy, passive-aggressive, and Rude To Piper. Joy. ”
[72virg=ins]. Amid a throng of conventioneers in the bar area, Piper attempts to finagle more tablecloths from a supplier over the phone. An oaf of a suit spills a glass of red wine all over her accounts just as Piper's boss swishes over in a snit. The swish is played by Jason Stuart, a comedian familiar to some gay and lesbian audiences primarily for his appearance in one of Comedy Central's Out There stand-up cavalcades way back in the early nineties. In keeping with this evening's Theme Mallet, let me announce that the boy has aged as well as his routine, which is to say not very well at all. Still, I've been wondering where all of the actual gay people have been hiding on this show, and now I have one. And he's prissy, lisping, uptight, bloated, snippy, passive-aggressive, and Rude To Piper. Joy. He blows attitude at her about making supplier calls from the bar instead of the office, and berates her for allowing the restaurant to descend into "chaos" while he was away. Piper stutters and stammers and tries to screw her courage to the sticking place to confront him, but alas, her courage is all fucked out. Piper sighs in frustration as Jason Stuart, Professional Homosexual makes a grand, sweeping exit.
Buckland's. Prue gazes mournfully at a framed photo of herself and Andy as the Feebs comes a-knocking at the office door. The flimsy pretext of Phoebe's visit is to borrow Prue's laptop to research this week's dark demonic force on the internet. Prue snarks something about Phoebe being the least "computer-friendly" person she knows, but hands over the machine nonetheless. Prue then asks if Phoebe's spoken with Andy about the murder. Phoebe hasn't, but she did assault Darryl for some information. Apparently, every detective in the precinct is buzzing about the case, and I am forced to believe that it must be a pretty slow week for those entrusted with the care and protection of the residents of San Francisco. One lousy parking garage murder, and it's tying up an entire precinct? Please. We just had an angry mob stone two drunk movers to death here in Chicago, and it didn't take more than a handful of cops to crack that case. Whatever. Prue clearly has other things on her mind, and is using the current demonic infiltration to pump Phoebe for information on the erstwhile boyfriend. Phoebe admits that while she didn't actually speak with Andy, she did see him in the parking lot. "He had that look, Prue. You know the one I'm talking about -- you might recognize it from the mirror." Phoebe counsels Prue to be honest with Andy about the whole bitchcraft thing so that they can resume their relationship. Prue settles bleakly into her chair and insists that that's not possible. "What if he can't handle it?" she asks. "It's not like I can put the genie back in the bottle." Um. Yes, you can, and you'd know this if you'd actually read the spell I took the time to transcribe above. For shame. I expect better of you, Prue. Phoebe reminds Prue that Andy's "not about to call the warlock police" on any of them, and urges Prue to figure out a way to let him in on the family secret. Perhaps realizing she should go no further than that at this point, she smiles gently, thanks Prue for the use of the computer, and leaves.
“ 'No. I lied. I chickened out,' Piper replies immediately. The Twinkly-Toed Tinkle Of Wacky Wiccan Hijinks hoists the Theme Mallet, jetes out of my television set, and thwomps me repeatedly in the jaw. ”
As Phoebe exits, a straggly-haired sandwich lady tools up to Prue's door with a cart. Wow. Can I get a job a Buckland's? I haven't worked in a place that offered subsidized lunches since I spent six months at the phone company in London. That sounds like the set-up for a particularly awful joke, doesn't it? But it's true. Swear to God. "I saved you your favorite," the lunch lady tells Prue. "Turkey. No mayo." "You're a good woman," Prue grins, passing "Tanya" a couple of bucks for the sub. Manky Tanya shoves off to continue her rounds. Prue fondles her hoagie while gazing longingly at Andy's photo.
Manor, that evening. By the way, they've yet to film actual nighttime glamour shots of the house, so they're still using that cheap daytime still with the blacked-out sky. Just so you know. Up in the attic, Prue stands at the podium with the Book of Shadows open to the truth spell. "Okay," she breathes, "you win."
Down on the front porch, Piper and Phoebe manage to reach the door at the same time. Piper's laden with volumes of inventory that Jason Stuart, Professional Homosexual insisted she complete that evening. Phoebe playfully offers to assist Piper in return for a little assistance with the dark demonic force of the week.
Attic. Prue recites the first stanza of the spell.
Parlor. Phoebe jokingly chides Piper for not confronting Jason Stuart, Professional Homosexual as she had promised to the evening. Piper vows that she gave the bloated fairy a piece of her mind, then wonders if she's getting a zit on her chin. Phoebe peers at her face and sniffs, "Can't even see it."
Attic. Prue completes the spell. A faint gust of wind swirls through the room.
Parlor. Piper fingers her acne and asks, "Are you sure you can't see it?" Phoebe rolls her eyes and blurts, "Are you kidding? It looks like that thing has a life of its own." The Twinkly-Toed Tinkle Of Wacky Wiccan Hijinks pirouettes onto the soundtrack to beat said soundtrack like a red-headed stepchild as Phoebe furrows her dim brow, wondering what in hell possessed her to say such a thing. She shakes it off and prompts, "So you really told off [Jason Stuart, Professional Homosexual], huh?" "No. I lied. I chickened out," Piper replies immediately. The Twinkly-Toed Tinkle Of Wacky Wiccan Hijinks hoists the Theme Mallet, jetes out of my television set, and thwomps me repeatedly in the jaw. The two Ps goggle at each other.
Attic. Prue hesitantly enters Andy's number into the cordless as she checks her watch. The product-placed Bulgari notes that it's precisely eight o'clock in the evening as Prue reaches Andy's answering machine. Prue, evidently expecting to reach Andy himself, is suddenly and somewhat endearingly unsure of herself. She flusters her way through a vague explanation for her call, then practically begs him to return the call within twenty-four hours before hanging up.