Demian: As I remember, SunMoon, it was upon this fashion bequeathed me by blah blah Shakespeare.
SunMoonStar: Whatever, dude. Yonder comes my videocassette.
Demian: Go apart, SunMoon, and thou shalt hear how it will shake me up.
We fade up on some establishing footage stolen from the Demi Moore version of The Scarlet Letter. The helpful caption identifies this place as Salem, Massachusetts, in the Year of Our Lord 1692. The camera cuts to take in the scrawny calves of a jailer and his visitor, picking their buckle-shoed way across colonial filth to a locked cell door. The scrawny calves of the jailer never get a face, which makes me think they squeezed a luckless, starving production assistant into hose and clunky shoes for the establishing shot, the better to avoid paying an extra. The malnourished production assistant masquerading as a jailer opens the cell door to allow a dark-haired Fabio wannabe entry. Get a haircut, you ass. The ass crosses the threshold to confront the woman therein. She spins about on her heel and breathlessly whispers, "Matthew!" He addresses her as "Melinda," and then the two bicker about some love affair gone wrong. Seems he's denounced her as a witch, and the good people of Salem intend to burn her at the stake -- which, by the way, never happened during the witch trials. The accused were sentenced to death by hanging, but you all knew that already, right? So, anyway, we're gifted with a bit more backstory. To wit, this Matthew cretin stole Melinda's powers somehow, and he intends to move on to seduce innumerable witches in the future after she's gone. Not so fast, girly-man. Melinda rips a locket from her throat and flings it into his chest. Matthew unlatches it and removes a piece of paper that bursts into flame. According to Melinda, the burning paper strips Matthew of the powers he stole from her. She then chants the following as a magical whirlwind whips around Fabio:
Outside of time,
Outside of gain.
Know only sorrow --
Know only pain.
Fabio howls and moans and disappears into the locket, which flares and snaps shut.
Buckland's, three hundred and six years later. The same locket rests on a velvet-enshrouded display board with a few other silver trinkets. Rex sets the tray down on Prue's desk and tries to pry open the locket with his fingernails before Prue interrupts him. He asks that she catalogue these latest items from "an estate back East," and leaves. Of course, the first item Prue examines is the locket. She effortlessly flicks open the catch. Heh. Rex is such a fricking wimp. A light puff of smoke billows from the locket as the door to Prue's office slams shut of its own accord. Prue, startled, whips her head around as a magical whirlwind spouts from the locket in her hands. Fabio presently appears therein and stretches his back as he yawls a bit. "I'm back," he announces -- rather tepidly for one so supposedly threatening -- "and the world has changed." Apologies to all you Billy Wirth fans out there (and I'm sure your numbers are legion), but this guy sucks. And not in the good way. Well, to be honest with you, I have no way of knowing if he sucks in the good way or not, but it seemed like the appropriate sentence fragment to tack on to that last statement. In any event, Prue and Fabio make with the meet and greet. Fabio determines that Prue must be a descendent of Melinda Warren, for only one of her offspring could have freed him from the locket-sized prison in which he's been whiling away the last three centuries. Prue, naturally, TKs Fabio into a wall, and he slumps to the floor. From his rumpled position on the carpet, he thanks her. You see, he "tricked" her into using her power on him, thereby giving him both said power and immunity against it. He rises to his feet and squishes poor Prue against the wall opposite with a little TK and a very large chair. As she slithers out to race towards the door, Fabio blinks out from where he had been standing to reappear behind her. He wraps his arm around her neck and demands she freeze time. Prue, quietly freaking, whispers that she can't do that. "So you're not alone," Fabio guesses. He blinks over to her desk to examine her nameplate. "And the family name is now Halliwell," he continues. Prue gasps and shudders as the wimp Rex calls to her from the hallway. Fabio shoots Prue the evil eye, then turns to face the bank of windows in her office. He squints, and one of the sheets of glass explodes outwards. Fabio leaps onto the ledge before disappearing downwards.
Prue edges towards the shattered window in time to see Fabio land upright and unharmed in the middle of an outdoor cafe on the sidewalk fifteen floors below. Various day players in business suits goggle at him as he strides through the tables. Fabio whisks a cruller from a diner's plate before disappearing down the street. Above, the camera tracks in towards Prue as she gapes and we slide into the opening credits.
And we're back. A twee, trilling ovary covers a Phil Collins masterpiece as we reel through the opening travelogue. Over at Buckland's, the outdoor café has been encircled with police tape as the goggly day players jaw and gesticulate amongst themselves. Eventually, we land on Andy and Darryl interviewing a particularly obnoxious businessman regarding Fabio's unusual appearance. Why is the businessman obnoxious? Because he says he "was just sittin' there, readin' the sports page, drinkin' a cup of joe." Die, fucker. Darryl, needless to say, finds it hard to believe that Fabio would survive a twelve-story drop from the shattered window above unscathed. Andy, in Mulder mode, draws Darryl aside for a private chat. Andy has no problem believing that wacky Wiccan hijinks are afoot, because, he points out, Fabio dropped into the café from Prue's office. Andy strides purposefully towards Buckland's entrance as Darryl sighs and rolls his eyes. I am so with you, my brother.
Manor. Up in the kitchen, Piper babbles flirtatiously about crab cakes as the Dolt works on the kitchen sink and Phoebe shoots her sister the old stink-eye from behind the newspaper. Blah blah blah crabcakes, if you will. There's some tedious business involving some sort of wrench attachment and Piper's ignorance thereof before Phoebe physically drags Piper into the dining room. "Ask him out already!" Phoebe hisses. "Give him some of your crab!" Lovely. Piper's nervous that the Dolt will say no, because Piper's never invited a gentleman on a date before. Phoebe's incredulous. "Am I the only person in this family who's inherited the 'Take The Chance' gene?" she asks. No, Phoebe. You're the only person in the family who's a slut. There's a difference. Phoebe opines that it's about time Piper started making the first move. Piper clenches and heads back into the kitchen. Once there, she whips out the Donna Reed and offers the Dolt some iced tea. He accepts gratefully. Piper retrieves the pitcher from the refrigerator and sets it on the counter to the Feebs, who immediately biffs it towards the floor with her elbow. Piper panics and flings out her hands, freezing both the cascading iced tea and the Dolt. You know, I've always wondered how she could freeze the Dolt, yet could never freeze her sisters. I also know I'm never going to get a reasonable explanation, so I should just learn to live with my withering disappointment, right? So, there's a bit of manic mugging as Piper scrambles for a bucket to catch the tea and Phoebe does not apologize for spilling it in the first place, followed by Prue storming into the room just as the freeze wears off. "We are in serious trouble," Prue blares. She pulls herself up short when she spots the Dolt beneath the sink, fixes a false smile on her face, and orders a meeting upstairs in the attic. The Ps dart out of the room as the Dolt obliviously bangs away on his pipe. Oh, not like that. Ew.
Buckland's. Andy interviews wimpy Rex and saucy Hannah in Prue's office as a crime scene tech snaps photos of the busted window frame. Hannah's disarmingly vulnerable and fluttery throughout, which I choose to attribute to her skillfully willful deceit, combined with the overwhelming and raging horniness that swept over her as a result of Andy's presence. Yowza. Hannah and the Wimp have nothing new to add, and Darryl dismisses them with his thanks. Darryl then eases over to Andy and diplomatically suggests that Andy recuse himself from the case due to Prue's apparent involvement. Andy huffily insists that he will not allow his ruined relationship to cloud his judgment, and snits on out of the office. Darryl sighs and rolls his eyes.
Lair Of The Wimp. The gentleman of the lair canoodles with Hannah about the "legend of the locket" and how they're going to find "a seventeenth-century warlock running around" San Francisco. The Wimp reminds Hannah that Fabio has "a one-track mind," and that Fabio's track matches theirs perfectly, or some such nonsense. The Wimp finishes by nuzzling Hannah while urging her not to worry, lest she "get wrinkles on [her] horns." Do you think they're evil? I think they're evil. I mean, I'm not entirely certain, of course, given the dearth of clues pointing in that direction, but I have sort of a hunch that maybe they might not have the best interests of the Glamorous Ladies of Halliwell Manor at heart, you know? Oh, shut up.
Manor attic. The three gals chat about Fabio and what he told Prue. Prue also describes Fabio's blinking ability, for which they as of yet have no name. Phoebe takes the locket from Prue and is immediately flung into a premonition. Well, actually, it's a post-monition, if you will. Phoebe receives a black-and-white vision of Melinda banishing Fabio into the locket forever and ever. Or, you know, until one of her stupid great-granddaughters lets him out of the damn thing. The ladies discuss this exciting new extension of Phoebe's powers, for up until now, she had received messages from the future alone. "We always knew our powers would grow," Prue reminds them. "Yeah, but somehow I thought I was gonna get to fly," Phoebe pouts. Third season, hag.
Establishing shot of that crushed cocktail waitress's apartment building, which has been magically rehabbed into office space in the last four weeks. They really had no budget for stock footage in the first season, did they? The camera takes in a sign that reads "Halliwell Rossen & Haas, Attorneys At Law" before cutting to the office's occupant, a husky, middle-aged legal type who likes to double-bill his clients. I think they included that last detail so the audience wouldn't mind so much when it came time for Fabio to kill him. Oops. Spoiler! Fabio blinks in, determines that the double-biller is "Arnold Halliwell," learns that Arnie is an only child, and snaps Arnie's neck with a little purloined TK. And...scene! Oh, sorry. Fabio makes a stoopid joke about lawyers, as well. You don't want to hear it. No, really. No. Really. Okay, fine: "Lawyers are. [Pause.] [Pause.] [Beat.] [Pause.] Still the same." I warned you.
Manor attic. Phoebe's discovered a drawing of Melinda Warren that I have to believe is a later "reinterpretation" of what Melinda might have looked like as imagined by one of her many, many descendants, rather than a contemporary portrait. The thing is all soft edges and gently-smeared chalk shadings, and it looks like a 1970s print ad for a feminine hygiene product. I half expect the woman in the drawing to leap to life to ask me about my problems with freshness. Piper, meanwhile, has stumbled across something far more worthwhile in an ancient vellum-bound tome. "Because the warlock had stolen her love," Piper reads, "she cursed him into the pewter heart where he could spend eternity knowing the sting of betrayal. The legend says the warlock must never be freed, or he will destroy the Warren line." Piper arches a brow. "That would be us." Well, yeah. You and God knows how many other people scattered across North America, but those people aren't in the opening credits, so screw 'em, right? The ladies bust Prue's chops for letting Fabio out early, then fret about how to defeat him.
Downstairs, the gals wander onto the sun porch just as the afternoon news features Fabio's defenestration from Prue's office. The Dolt, by the way, is stuffing his gob with snack food he apparently nicked from the Manor pantry. Spineless mooch. As the television reporter interviews that overly-excited fucker with the sports page and the joe, Andy rings the Manor's doorbell. Phoebe volunteers to get rid of him.
Out on the front porch, Phoebe lies that Prue must still be at Buckland's. Andy calls her on this. Then Andy gets loud. He tells Phoebe about the attorney with the familiar last name and the permanently dislocated neck, and demands to see Prue. "Where is she?" "Where's your warrant?" Phoebe counters, showing a bit of steel. She flashes Andy a smile and reenters the house, slamming the door in his face.
Parlor. The three Ps bat around ideas for confronting Fabio. Piper suggests letting Andy in on the whole bitchcraft thing in order to enlist his aid in the fight. Prue immediately shoots down this cunning plan as she flops into an overstuffed chair with a sigh. Phoebe gets a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "What we need is someone who's done this before," she asserts. "Someone like Melinda Warren." Prue pffts, "What are we supposed to do? Reach back in time and grab her and tell her that we need her help?" Phoebe leans forward on the sofa: "Yes."
Attic. An overhead shot of the Glamorous Ladies seated around a candle-laden table spins as Piper voices some last-minute reservations. "Aren't we, like, raising the dead?" she asks. "What if she's all..." What if she's all what, Piper? Mummified? Desiccated? Vermin-infested? "Cher?" Same difference, honey. I'm kidding. You know they'd never make a joke like that on this show. Not that that joke isn't sucky enough for Charmed, mind you, but you know what I mean. Phoebe reassures Piper that according to the Book of Shadows, Melinda will reappear just as she was in life, with the extra-special added bonus of having her powers intact as well. The spell, apparently, is one of those "blood-calling-blood" things, so each P must prick her index finger with a ceremonial knife. This of course leads to mighty protestations from the squeamish Piper. "Come on," exhorts the Feebs. "Don't you remember the summer at the lake?" When your mother drowned? "When we swore a blood oath to be friends forever -- not just sisters?" Oh, sorry. Wrong summer. "I remember my finger got infected," Piper deadpans. "I remember I couldn't go in the water for three days." Heh. Eventually, she relents, though she does insist that Phoebe prick her finger for her. The Ps collect their respective drops of blood in Melinda's locket, which Phoebe then snaps shut and drops into the bowl of dry ice at the center of the table. The dry-ice vapors spill over the sides of the bowl as the sisters chant the following:
Melinda Warren, blood of our blood,
Our great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother,
We summon thee!
Actually, in the interest of anal-retentive recapping, Phoebe and Prue give it a mere six "greats." Piper slipped in the seventh, and judging from my own family tree, she should have knocked in an eighth or a ninth to get them back to the late 1600s. Whatever. It worked. A Swirling Cloud Of Glowing Golf Balls (the first! I think) materializes over the landing by the window, followed presently by Melinda herself. She swallows a great big refreshing gulp of stale attic air and beams, "Oh, blessed be." I hate her already.
Back from the break, Phoebe's kitting out Melinda in some of her own cast-offs to give Melinda a fresh, contemporary look for her stay in San Francisco and oh, Lord. Here they go with the anachronism humor. Phoebe yanks at the zipper of a modest, dark-colored sleeveless dress, eliciting a howl of protest from Melinda. "Don't rip the dress to make it fit me!" Phoebe explains the whole zipper concept to Melinda. "Oh-ho!" oh-hos Melinda as she fiddles gleefully with the thing. "A wise witch made this." Shut up, Melinda. She doesn't listen to me. I'll transcribe the ensuing dress chatter directly for you. Trust me, it's far less painful this way:
Melinda: What sheep has wool so soft?
Phoebe: A synthetic one.
Melinda: Oh. Did it take you long to make the dress?
Phoebe: Make it? No -- I bought it.
Melinda: You must be rich.
Thump! Be more funny! Prue and Piper enter to compliment Melinda on her new look. Melinda idly wonders how modern gals keep their legs warm. "We drink coffee," Prue replies. Thump! Be more funny! And oh, thank God -- here comes the Dolt.
Whoa. Did I just say, "Thank God -- here comes the Dolt"? Shoot me. Now.
The Dolt bumbles into Phoebe's room unannounced, then immediately apologizes for barging in. Idiot. Phoebe introduces Melinda as their cousin. Piper tells Melinda that the Dolt's there to upgrade the Manor's plumbing. Melinda doesn't know what plumbing is. And I'm getting a migraine. I'll not be transcribing any more of these "gags," okay, because they make no sense. Melinda didn't slip into some alternate universe after she died -- she was a ghost, for Christ's sake. As such, she would have become familiar with recent and not-so-recent technological developments, right? Whatever. She's not familiar with them, so just assume that whenever Melinda encounters something novel from here on out, she says something stupid. She is a blonde, after all, so I guess that works. Melinda does attempt to cover for her ignorance by stammering, "To work with one's hands is a great gift." The Dolt's response? A breezy "Well, 'I am a true laborer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear.'" "'Owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness,'" Melinda replies with delight. I'll give Melinda a pass on knowing Shakespeare, but the Dolt? No way. He can't even read, can he? The Ps plus Melinda book on out of there as the Dolt smiles gently at their retreating forms. Shut up, Dolt.
"Halliwell Hardware And Appliance." Fabio crosses in front of the owner of the store, who's splayed crucifixion-style on the wall. Unfortunately, the guy's no Piper Laurie in Carrie. Fabio appears to have propped the dead guy up on some display brackets after having snapped his neck. Hannah and the Wimp pop into the shop and make with the introductions. Fabio insists he works alone. The Wimp notes that Fabio's leaving a trail of dead Halliwells, and if Fabio doesn't accept their offer of assistance, the police will catch him before he can off the Glamorous Ladies. Fabio glumly agrees to follow Hannah and the Wimp wherever they may lead.
By the way: Yes, I did check to see if there are any Halliwells now living in San Francisco. To the best of my knowledge, there aren't, but I'd like to give a shout-out to the Patricia Halliwells of Alamo, Long Beach, and Redwood City, California. Stay away from the water, ladies.
Manor dining room. As Prue fastens the locket around Melinda's neck, Melinda regales her great-blah-whatever-daughters with some family history. She never comes out and says it, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Fabio is the great-whatever-grandfather of the Glamorous Ladies. It would explain their penchant for questionable hair strategies, wouldn't it? Long story short, Melinda would have used her powers to escape Salem with her life, but doing so would have proven Fabio's allegations, leaving open the possibility that those wacky Puritans would have torched Melinda's daughter, Prudence, in her stead. I know -- Melinda could have saved herself and her daughter, so why didn't she? She didn't, m'kay? Just go with it. When Prue describes Fabio's unique method of transport, Melinda um-duhs that the blinking is called "blinking," and exposits that he must have stolen it from another witch. That's Fabio's M.O., you see -- he "copies" powers, then kills their owners. "Should he gain all three [of the Ps'] powers," Melinda warns, "he will be impossible to vanquish." She notes that the only way to get rid of him is to force him back into the locket. Okay. Whatever you say, honey. Like they couldn't just ad-lib a crappy rhyme so the guy blows up in the attic or something. Rrrgh.
Buckland's. Fabio and Hannah take the anachronism humor out for a flirtatious spin as the shirtless (ew!) Fabio squeezes into a pair of jeans. The anachronisms are no funnier here than they were back at the Manor, so you'll have to learn to live with the frustration of not reading Fabio's musings on the castrating effect tight modern clothing has on the seventeenth-century man about town. Should I bother reminding everyone that people were a lot shorter and thinner back then because of their diet? And that it would follow that Fabio here should be about five-foot-six at the most, and Melinda around four-foot-nine or so? Which means that their modern clothing should be coming from Gap Kids? And that their teeth would be rotting right out of their skulls because of the scurvy and whatnot? And that we shouldn't be able to understand a word they're saying because English pronunciation has shifted so drastically since then? I shouldn't bother? Too late. Suck it up. The Wimp enters, and he and Fabio get into a little pissing contest over the rights to Hannah's goody basket, and then the scene ends. Silly evil people. If you weren't so busy fighting each other, you'd have been able to off the Glamorous Ladies months ago. Can't you all just get along?
Manor. Up in the attic, Melinda marvels at the current size of the Book of Shadows, revealing what we already know about the thing -- specifically, "each generation of Warren witches" adds to it as it sees fit. This is news to the gals, but whatever. Melinda flips through a couple of pages and hoots when she stumbles across the instructions for the Fabio vanquish. Prue hands her a slip of paper and a pencil. "No ink?" Melinda asks. No. No ink, because it's a fucking pencil, you moron. Piper notices a spell "to increase patience" that she supposes Grams wrote to deal with the wee Ps. Phoebe doofs something about how they were all little hellions when they were younger. Piper and Prue immediately turn on her. Heh. "You were the troublemaker," Prue spits. Phoebe splutters. "A pain," Piper adds. "A free spirit," Phoebe counters. "A handful," Piper sneers. "A flibbertigibbet, a will-o-the-wisp, a CLOWN!" I shriek at my much-abused television. "A Warren," Melinda finishes. I like my contribution more. Melinda continues that all Warren witches get "short tempers, great cheekbones, the strong will, and of course the powers" as part of their birthright. "Great cheekbones"? You don't know what plumbing is -- you don't know how to use a fucking pencil -- but you can toss off "great cheekbones" in conversation? Shut up, Melinda. Shut up a lot. Blah sisterhood blah Wicca blah BoS blah heritage blah whatever. Melinda finishes copying the vanquish, and the four women head downstairs.
Over at Buckland's, Hannah and the Wimp display surveillance photos of each P to Fabio, who makes some tedious remark about how he "cannot feel the brush strokes" on these "marvelous paintings." Shut it, asshole. And get a haircut while you're at it. Pasty-faced, manky-haired dork. The Wimp sends Fabio and Hannah off to [72virg=ins] to steal Piper's power.
Manor kitchen. Piper prepares some of the vanquish ingredients while Melinda gives poor Feebs a pep talk about how valuable a passive power such as hers can be. Prue, meanwhile, stands guard at the window, waiting for Andy to return to the Manor with a warrant for her arrest. Eventually, they run down Melinda's list for the missing ingredients. Piper can swipe the errant herbs and whatnot from [72virg=ins], but Phoebe notices that there's one ingredient they might not be able to find: A feather from a spotted owl. Why can't they get it? Because spotted owls are now on the endangered species list. And here's where my brain shot right out of my ear, leading to an extended stay at a lovely sanitarium near Lake Geneva for a couple of weeks. Fucking Melinda wouldn't have used a feather from the goddamned endangered spotted owl because fucking Melinda lived in Massa-fucking-chusetts and the goddamned endangered fucking owl is indigenous to the Pacific. FUCKING. Northwest. Arrrggghauuughuaaaghghah. Phoebe suggests that they try a zoo. Melinda: "What's a zoo?" AAAAUAUUAUUUGH! Prue finally steps in to halt all of this bullshit by announcing that she'll take care of the goddamned feather. Phoebe offers to accompany Piper to [72virg=ins], and the ladies break.
[72virg=ins]. Fabio and Hannah eye the entrance from Hannah's car. Fabio makes unnecessarily audible threats as we fade into the commercial break.
[72virg=ins]. Again. Piper and Phoebe barrel and babble through the dining area. A waitress stops Piper for a chat while Phoebe sails on alone. As the waitress tells Piper that someone with an English accent called to confirm that Piper was working that day, we cut to the kitchen, where Phoebe attempts to fend off Fabio with a rolling pin. Fabio whacks it out of her hand and latches on to her upper arms. Phoebe's hurled into a vision of Fabio choking Melinda in the Manor. Fabio sneers something about capturing Phoebe's power, tosses her to the floor, and blinks out. Piper enters to receive a quick recap from the Feebs.
Manor. The camera pans down from the facade to reveal Andy eyeing the house from his car in the street below. Inside, Prue tells Melinda that she found a goddamned spotted owl at her former place of employment, the Armenian Mutant. They hug, and Prue bolts. Outside, Prue peels off down the street in her convertible, followed presently by Andy.
Up in the kitchen, dim Melinda scares herself witless by playing with the Cuisinart. Well, more witless than she was before. The phone rings. Melinda freaks. The answering machine picks up the call. It's Phoebe, of course, calling to warn Prue and Melinda about Fabio. Melinda just hovers above the answering machine, screaming at it. God, she's dumb. I mean, yeah with the anachronisms and all that, but sweet Jesus on a stick. Now we know where the Feebs gets her staggering intellect. Eventually, Melinda slams her hand on the machine, shutting it off. Over at [72virg=ins], Phoebe barks, "The line went dead." Phoebe and Piper race outside to their car.
Back at the Manor, Fabio slams through the front door. During the incredibly dull scene that follows, Billy Wirth makes a valiant attempt at virile menace, only to end up flopping flaccidly on the floor. Get a damn haircut, tool. Melinda learns that he's captured Phoebe's power when he clamps a hand on her neck and staggers his way into a premonition of the Ps plus Melinda completing the vanquish in the kitchen. He demands to know the whereabouts of Prue. Melinda sends him to the zoo. Fabio lopes out of the Manor.
Buckland's. Hannah lurches into The Lair Of The Wimp to admit that she lost track of Fabio and the gals. The Wimp bitches, then sends her off again to find them.
Manor. Piper and Phoebe clomp in, calling for Melinda. She answers from the parlor, and confirms that they retrieved the missing herbs from [72virg=ins]. Melinda also informs them that Prue's fetching the goddamned feather. "How?" Phoebe asks.
The camera pans across the darkened city before we land on the front steps of the Armenian Mutant of Neurasthenic Histrionics. Fog abounds. Nice touch. Pity they seem to have abandoned such touches in recent seasons. Prue scampers out through a side door, unseen by the wage-slave security guard, that goddamned spotted feather in her hand. Andy emerges from the fog and grabs her arm. Busted!
Buckland's. Fabio sends Hannah flying through the Wimp's office door. Is that any way to treat a lady? Honestly. The villains snarl at each other. The Wimp insists Fabio track down Piper to copy her power of molecular manipulation. Um, I mean "freezing time." Fabio wants to track Prue down first and kill her before she can curse him back into the locket. They compromise. Sort of. The Wimp hands Fabio an automatic pistol from his desk drawer and suggests that Fabio return to the Manor and use it as necessary. Fabio fondles the gun and smiles.
The Armenian Mutant. Andy grills Prue in his car while twirling that goddamned spotted feather around in his fingers. He threatens to charge her with breaking and entering and obstruction of justice unless she 'fesses up to whatever it is that's going on in her life. Prue tries to reason with him, then just gives up and squints at his steering wheel. Her squinty telekinesis activates the driver's-side airbag, which traps Andy in the car. She snatches the goddamned feather from his hand and disappears into the mist. And also into the commercial break.
Back from the break, Melinda, Piper, and Phoebe cluster around the center island in the kitchen. Melinda spoons the processed vanquishing herbs into a small leather pouch as her great-whatever-daughters worry themselves sick over Prue's whereabouts. Melinda's confident that Prue will return with the goddamned feather in time, and once she has, all they need do is add it to the pouch and hunt down Fabio. Surprise! Fabio's already there! And he's got a gun! He waves a hand at Piper, who levitates across the kitchen floor into his arms. He presses the barrel of the gun against her temple, ordering her to freeze him. Piper flatly refuses to do so, so Fabio waves the gun around in Phoebe's direction. Shoot her, Fabio! Shoot her in the head! Doesn't happen. Instead, we get a little deus ex Prue. The Prueminator motors into the kitchen through the back door and immediately TKs the automatic from Fabio's hand. While Fabio himself is immune to her telekinesis, he most certainly is not immune to that kitchen chair Prue sends crashing into his skull. Fabio crumples to the floor, allowing Piper to scamper over to Phoebe's side while Prue passes that goddamned spotted feather to Melinda. Melinda shoves the goddamned thing into the pouch of herbs just as Fabio rises to his feet. Piper finally hurls a freeze at the pasty-faced, manky-haired tool. Melinda recites the vanquishing spell from the top of the hour, and Fabio howls and vanishes into a whirlwind that sucks him back into the locket. "This is for eternity," Melinda vows.
Buckland's. Hannah and the Wimp bemoan their latest failure, worrying what "He" will do to them once "He's" learned that the Glamorous Ladies continue to roam the earth. "We should have done it ourselves!" Hannah bleats. "You're right," agrees the Wimp. "We should have." He grabs her by the hair. Um...DUN? I think that's a DUN.
Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World. Andy and Darryl get up in each other's grill over Andy's vow to rouse a judge in the middle of the night to obtain an arrest warrant for Prue. Because she stole a goddamned feather. Yeah. Not gonna fly, toots. So to speak. Ow. I'm sorry. That hurt even me. Darryl warns Andy to let it go. Andy pouts, and rather adorably at that.
Manor, the following morning. The Dolt wanders through the front hallway as Piper flings herself down the stairs in one of her patented, barely-suppressed, Wiccan-related spastic fits of panic. She splutters that she's sorry, but the gals have to see their "cousin" off, so could the Dolt come back to futz around in the downstairs bathroom tomorrow? He can, and turns to leave. She stops him, hesitates, then asks him out on a date. The Dolt grins, telling her he'd love to join her for an evening on the town. Piper looks terribly pleased with herself.
Up in the attic, Piper rejoins her sisters and Melinda around that low table. Needless to say, none of the gals wants Melinda to leave, but Melinda's all, "Whatever, you bitches. I'm gone." You think I'm kidding? That's pretty much what her little speech boils down to: The present is not her time, but rather that of her great-whatever-daughters, so, you know, she's hitting the road. The Feebs takes Melinda's hand and asks for a premonition of the Glamorous Ladies' future. Melinda sees generations of her descendants stretching out across the coming centuries. Way to be vague, nitwit. Melinda carefully fastens the Fabio locket around her neck, and the four women clasp hands. Prue, leveling her gaze kindly at Melinda, intones, "Melinda Warren, blood of our blood, we release you." The Swirling Cloud Of Glowing Golf Balls engulfs Melinda as she beams, "Blessed be, my daughters." Oh, cram it, Granola Queen. The evening ends with the glum gals glancing wistfully at each other. "We can always bring her back," Prue grins. Yeah. And you call me when the shuttle lands, sweetheart.
Did that seem short to you? It should. Start to finish, including commercials, this episode ran fifty-five minutes. I wonder what they cut out.