This week Alyssa's in heat, Holly Marie's in Dan-ial, and Shannen goes drag king to prevent The Cranberries from wailing on her for stealing their "screaming like a banshee" shtick in her wonderfully bad TV flick Friends 'Til the End.
P3 After Dark. Closing time. People are departing. Phoebe "Eulah! Eulah!" Halliwell comes down the stairs in a sewn-on slip dress, fanning herself. She can't believe this heat wave, the one the WB executives cooked up to strip their young nubile casts down and oil them up for November Sweeps. Piper "Picked a Pecker" Halliwell says, "Tell me about it. The Cranberries are playing an animal-rights benefit here on Saturday and it's going to be a hundred degrees." As if anyone will show up to be inconvenienced, Piper. Phoebe grabs a piece of ice out of the cooler behind the bar and starts rubbing it all over her chest. Piper tells her that if Pheebs keeps making like she's on Red Shoe Diaries, she'll have to break out some "man repellent." Heh. Two barbacks ogle Pheebs, but Piper shoos them away. Phoebe says she "can't help it." Piper: "Am I going to have to hose you down?" Ew. For one thing, please don't, because Phoebe clearly isn't wearing anything underneath that white sausage-casing dress. For another thing, there has to be an air conditioner at full-blast on the set, because it's pretty obvious that, um ... Phoebe's high beams are on (tm Maggie) ... Phoebe's smuggling peas (tm Sars) ... Phoebe's got company (tm Wing)... Phoebe's turkey is done (tm Moira). Don't make me draw y'all a picture. Pheebs explains that she's in a "highly excited state" right now. Piper feels her forehead; Phoebe is burning up. Phoebe says something "freaky" is happening to her. Piper tells her to see a doctor. Phoebe says she doesn't feel sick, just "aroused." She whispers to Piper that she's been having a "sex dream" every night that's unusual. Unfortunately, she explains that she's dreamt about sex before, but this dream contained "a real swank penthouse -- a love den, candles, satin sheets" and "a different man every night telling [her] that [she's] irresistible." Phoebe adds: "Let's just say we could win the gold in the Hugh Hefner Olympics." Hugh Hefner? Did my father write that line? Piper wonders why the dreams are so bad. Phoebe says they're good, but in each one, she "kills the guy." Piper thinks that might be a metaphor for sexual frustration, and says she can relate. Prue "Bren or Brenda?" Halliwell walks in and exclaims, "Oh good, we're decoding men." Piper asks what she's doing there. Prue bitches about what she's not doing: "Lighting candles, getting a back rub, running a hot bubble bath for her date." Phoebe the cardio-thoracic surgeon figures out that Prue's date with a guy named Alan did not go well. Prue complains that it was their third date, and she barely got a kiss goodnight and an "I'll call you." Piper cites "I'll call you" as "the kiss of death." Phoebe nods an emphatic "Uh huh, girlfriend!" Prue bitches some more that she gave Alan "all the signals" but he ignored them. Neither of the docile Ps takes Prue's incredibly horrific hairstyle into consideration here. Just what did Alan think of Prue's reverse corn-row Mohawk, with tight braids running down the top of her head and the sides remaining fallow? Phoebe says that she's had enough talk about men and gets up to go home for "a cold shower and a good night's sleep." Piper tells her to have sweet dreams, but not to kill anyone. Prue looks perplexed. Piper tells her not to ask. Word.
Halliwell Manor. Same night. Phoebe twists and turns in bed. We cut to her hazy B&W dream. A handsome man is telling the camera that he "can't believe this is happening." He's with "the most beautiful woman [he's] ever laid eyes on." We see arms caressing him. Then an insert of the "let there be lips" shot from Rocky Horror. The handsome man thinks he's "falling in love" and the object of his desire is "irresistible." The lips open, and a tongue comes out. It has a head. The head opens, and the tongue's head bares its teeth. ["Ah, yes, the dreaded penis dentatus of folklore." -- Sars] The tongue goes down the handsome guy's throat, and sucks stuff out of his skull. Cut to the straggly-haired, wide-eyed corpse of Freud sitting bolt upright in his grave. Oh, my bad -- it's just Phoebe, waking from her nightmare.
Credits. Jenny "Ruthie" Gordon is missing again. The producers are torturing us one week, then letting us recover, then inflicting even more pain the time. It's wicked cruel.
What is Bridget Gregory doing in a movie with Pigboy and his boyfriend?
Establishing shots of San Francisco as citizens walk around oblivious to the air-raid siren blaring complaint rock throughout town. Oh wait, there's an announcement -- this is just a test of my patience from the emergency Cranberries shilling system.
Buckland Auction House. Day. Camera shot of a blowing fan, panning to Prue getting off an elevator in the hallway. She rushes into her office, checks out her makeup in a compact, then rushes out to the hallway again. Prue begins to oh-so-non-nonchalantly examine a modern sculpture of an entwined couple that's sitting in the middle of the passage. She has about as much patience for this folderol as I do, because the minute Alan walks into the shot, she bounds over to him. They greet one another. Alan complains that it's hot, and unfortunately the building's AC is on the fritz. Prue asks him "just out of curiosity" if "something happened" on their date "to upset [him] or something." Alan: "Upset? No, no, not at all. Actually I had a great time. We should do it again; I'll call you." He walks away. Prue is stunned. She mutters, "The kiss of death." Daryl "My Hammy Vice" Morris comes up to her and tells her they need to talk. Dorian Gregory must have gotten a stern talking to from the producers and a scrip for downers, because he's oddly subdued in this episode compared to his last appearance. Daryl asks Prue if she's okay. Prue starts to bitch about men, and asks what's the big about "how one minute guys are sending out all the signals, then the minute they turn them off like a switch." She wonders, "What do men want, anyway?" This week, it's Daryl's turn to look stricken along with Owen.
BAH. Prue's office. Daryl opens the door for her, and she praises him effusively because she's "pleased that while romance is dead, chivalry isn't." It's at this point that I realize that this episode will contain much more wrong-headed sexist blather than usual. A quick rewind to the credits confirms that the script was written by a committee that included Aaron Spelling, Tim Allen, John Gray, Ellen Fein and Sherrie Schneider. Prue asks Daryl what's the sitch. Daryl explains that four men have been killed on the past four nights of the heat wave blah blah blah he has no suspects wah wah wah Prue has a secret flap flap flap here are some photos of the victims yadda yadda yadda all of the men belonged to the same dating service called "Fine Romance." Daryl asks Prue to help out by finding out some information about the service, but he doesn't want her to "get hurt." He adds that "the brass" is watching him on this one, "so it can't be an unexplained case." Way to delegate your whole workload, Mr. Two Speeds: Under-Act and Over-Act. Prue gapes at him.
Halliwell Manor. The camera pans from yet another blowing fan over to Piper, who's carrying a tray of iced tea into the parlor to Phoebe. Pheebs is wearing a tank top, coochie shorts, and nine ounces of baby oil. Pheebs begins to recount her "turned on" dream of sex and murder from the night before. As she speaks, she picks up the pitcher of iced tea, rubs it all over her forehead and chest, then chugs straight from it. That's okay, Lazy P, I'm sure Piper wasn't thirsty anyway. Sheesh. Piper pooh-poohs her sister about not really killing a man in her dream, and prepares a thermometer for her. Phoebe declares that she "could feel his body shaking uncontrollably under hers." Piper: "Now you're making me sick." Word. As Phoebe adds that she "can still taste his blood," Piper sticks the thermometer in her mouth. Woo hoo! Granted, it's not a gag and some duct tape, but it'll do. Prue enters and asks how Phoebe's doing. Phoebe: "Mmm tho hot." The thermometer reads 100.5 degrees. Piper asks Prue what's going on with Morris. Prue shows the docile Ps the crime photos. Phoebe freaks -- the men were all killed in her dreams. Phoebe: "Coincidence? I think not." Piper and Prue decide that Pheebs must have a psychic link with the killer. Phoebe seems to believe that she could actually be the murderer. Piper doesn't agree. Phoebe reminds her about turning into the Wendigo. (I saw that ep last summer and liked it because Piper finally told the lazy Ps off.) Prue wants Pheebs to go to the dating service with her while Piper researches the killer in the Book of Shadows. Phoebe: "I might be a man-killing demon and you send me to Bachelor Central?" Owen: "Contrivance? I think so."
Fine Romance Dating Service, or rather some building with a cheap scroll banner taped over the front door labeling it as such. Outside, Morris and a sexist pig cop, who I'll call Deputy Horndog, are taking photos of the lazy Ps as they enter. Deputy Horndog: "Wow, look at the racks on those babes!" Daryl: "Do your job." Deputy Horndog: "Blah blah taking pics of potential suspects blah blah those two have lots of potential click click click." Don't y'all be fooled for a second. I'm sure this guy's been written in to balance this episode out with a negative male stereotype, but you'll see that it's sexually aggressive women who are truly taking it on the chin for the full running time.