You know, I had the damnedest time getting this recap started, and I couldn't figure out why. Tonight's episode was pretty straightforward, after all. Isis's ancient demonic boy toy swipes Phoebe's body to house the spirit of his goddess, and wacky hijinks ensue. Simple, right? Then it hit me: If Adrian Paul (Hewitt) is Isis's boy toy, he must be Osiris. And that means The Highlander is dickless.
Oh, hello, DemonCam On Crack. How I've missed you during the two months this show's been in reruns. The DemonCam whisks us along the city waterfront, pauses just long enough to take in Detective Darryl's sporty little sedan squealing to a halt atop a hill, then dumps us in the parlor of a tastefully-appointed apartment, presumably somewhere nearby. Tonight's guest demon bursts through the door, toting in his arms a blonde who won't make it past the opening credits. The high angle from which Adrian Paul (Hewitt) is being filmed does him no favors, by the way. He appears to be shorter than Tom Cruise. And what's with those auburn highlights in his hair? And while we're trashing your hair and make-up, I should probably tell you to ease up on that eyeliner there, buddy. Ew. Dickless drops his blonde onto the sofa while screaming, "Where is it?" For a brief moment, I think he's looking for his manhood. But no -- it seems the demonic pair are in need of a crystal. The blonde waves a languid hand in the general direction of the armoire against the opposite wall. Adrian Paul (Hewitt) lunges for the thing and knocks various goblets and candles to the carpet before snatching up a scrying crystal and a map. He plunges back towards the blonde, panting, "Don't die on me yet -- not before we find you another body." His accent is oddly lower-middle-class London during this scene, but I suppose I should thank the good Lord he's not attempting Egyptian. Adrian Paul (Hewitt) presses the crystal into the blonde's hand, ordering her to find another witch before her current body dies. The blonde weakly dangles the crystal over the map. Eventually, the crystal slams down on a set of as-yet-unspecified coordinates. Scrying complete, the blonde emits what the captioning defines as her "[dying gasp]" and slumps forward onto Adrian Paul (Hewitt)'s shoulder. Adrian Paul (Hewitt) mumbles some sweet nothings into her unconscious ear, then roughly slings her backwards onto the couch as wailing sirens announce the arrival of Detective Darryl's backup outside. The Dickless Highlander ambles over to the window to watch Darryl chamber a round in his pistol, and mutters, "Like moths to a flame." That line makes so little sense, it didn't even register the first time I watched this episode. And now I've gone and wasted precious bandwidth transcribing it. Shut up, Dickless.
Out on the sidewalk, Darryl issues a couple of orders from the depths of his bulletproof vest before heading to the front door, but I'm too distracted by the baby 'fro/wispy goatee thing he's working to note what those orders are.
Inside the apartment, Adrian Paul (Hewitt) arranges the dead blonde on the sofa and rises to his feet as Darryl and his posse storm the apartment building. "Saqqara tiet ushebti," (Hewitt) murmurs. I believe that phrase translates as, "Gaze upon my mighty nostrils and weep." The damn things are dead center on my television screen, and they're scaring the crap out of me. Adrian Paul (Hewitt) wiggles his hands over the dead blonde, and she's instantly mauled by a marauding horde of hungry CGI bandages that quickly encase her body. Mr. (Hewitt) flares his terrifying nostrils. A lapis scarab materializes on the mummified blonde's chest. Just as Darryl boots in the apartment door, The Dickless Highlander purses his lips and explodes into a whirling cloud of sand that settles into a tidy pile on the rug beside the sofa. While various members of the posse fan out through the apartment and shout things like, "All clear in the bathroom," Darryl lumbers over to the mummy and the sand and heaves a beleaguered sigh. He snaps open his cell phone and groans, "Phoebe Halliwell, please. Tell her it's Inspector Morris." He glances once more at the mummified corpse and grunts, "Tell her it's important," before getting whacked in the 'fro by the opening credits.
Um. When did the captions start rendering the theme song's lyrics as "I am the sun and the air"? That's wrong, right?
The opening travelogue bounces around the Bay Area before landing on Pier 39 and cross-fading to the interior of a purportedly upscale maternity store. Raige impatiently taps her nails on a rack outside a row of dressing rooms, calling for Piper to hurry the hell up. "Come on," she insists, "it can't be that bad." No, Raige. It's worse. Much, much worse. Piper emerges from one of the rooms in a pair of cornea-blistering white paisley-patterned satin pants and a fluffy, ruffly Empire-waist top in pale pink. The estrogen level in my apartment just shot up thirty-six hundred percent. If Piper wears this hideous outfit for longer than one scene, I'm going to start lactating. Piper grumps her way over to a full-length mirror and bitches about how "bright and cheery and ruffly" everything is. With her nose wrinkled up in disgust, she plucks at the hem of her top and snits, "This thing makes me look..." "A-dor-able!" croons a suddenly appearing salesgirl. The gentlefolk on the boards have identified the actress as that bleach blonde shrew from the "Dell Interns" commercials. I didn't recognize the wretch, mainly because I've been cutting off Dell ads by changing the channel ever since I decided that Spokesmodel Steve is not, in fact, doable, and really needs to be beaten repeatedly with a tire iron. Actually, the only thing I thought when this woman appeared on screen to harass Piper was, "You're twelve years old, you obnoxious little sow. Shut. UP!" The shrieking shrew annoys me for a good five hours before Piper sends her to find something more tasteful in your basic black or charcoal grey. Before the shrew leaves, though, she coos, "Oh, motherhood!" while stroking Piper's stomach. Somehow, she manages to escape this encounter without Piper's foot in her ass. The exchange leads to an angry diatribe from the expectant mother over how her belly's become public property since she started showing, what with random strangers copping feels for good luck or something. The forum regulars who have actually reproduced confirm that this sort of invasion of privacy is one of the many unpleasant side effects of pregnancy, so I'll give the clueless amongst you a little PSA on the matter: Keep your filthy fucking hands off the pregnant ladies, okay?
Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Raige pretty much ignores the ranting noises coming from her bloated half-sister in favor of massaging a "cramp" in her neck. Seems the overtime she's been pulling while mastering The Craft has resulted in a series of physical complaints, not the least of which is an irritating tension through her neck and shoulders. Piper counsels pampering at the hands of a licensed professional, but Raige pffts at this suggestion, claiming she has to pick up the slack left by the slovenly Feebs, who apparently spent the holiday hiatus lounging around the Manor in her scanties, and isn't that a disturbing image? Raige ups the ick factor by noting, "I can understand [Phoebe] wanting to take a break from guys, but she's gonna wear out the batteries." Piper and I vomit a little into our mouths. Fortunately, Raige's cell phone chirps at this moment. It's the mistress of the Magic Wand herself, summoning them back to the Manor for a conference with Detective Darryl.
thing you know, we're in the Manor parlor. The ladies have arranged themselves on various pieces of furniture while Darryl paces the floor with a dossier and some hefty exposition. You better be careful hauling that load around, my man, or you'll wind up in a truss. Piper remains clad in that fugly ruffly top -- despite the fact we never saw her pay for the damn thing -- and I begin to worry I'll ruin my shirt with milk stains. The Feebs dabs polish onto her toenails as Darryl informs them that Adrian Paul (Hewitt) has been linked to five murders in five cities, though the blonde from the pre-credits sequence was his first victim in San Francisco. Piper reminds Darryl that while the circumstances of the blonde's murder are a bit strange, it doesn't necessarily follow that a dark demonic force sent from the flaming maw of Hell is involved. She then fidgets distractedly with her top. Raige tells her to knock it off, and begs Phoebe to voice her approval of Piper's new look. The Feebs glances up from her toenails and babytalks, "You look so cute!" Shut it, Feebs. Christ, I can't wait for Adrian Paul (Hewitt) to (spoiler!) gag you with his marauding horde of hungry CGI bandages. Detective Darryl tempts fate by stretching a mitt in the general direction of Piper's distended belly for a feel. Piper snatches his wrist and warns, "Do it and you pull back a bloody stump." Oh, promises, promises. Like anything that interesting would ever happen on this show.
In any event, Phoebe chooses this moment to rise and waddle around on her tacky toenails while informing the others that the Dolt is consulting with the ever-useless Elders regarding the scarab found on the mummy's chest. She also babbles something about the day of beauty she's scheduled for herself at the office. Phoebe has just enough time to head to the crime scene to force a premonition, you see, before heading back to her place of employment for a facial. I really need to land a job as an advice columnist. Not that I'd be scheduling pedicures for myself at the office or anything, but the amount of paid downtime certainly is appealing. Besides, if an idiot like Phoebe can dispense advice to such wild acclaim, how hard can the job be? Darryl splutters his opposition to the idea of Phoebe clomping around the murdered blonde's apartment, revealing in the process that he's up for a promotion. It's taken him a long time to shrug off "the freaky-deaky rap" he gained through his long association with the Glamorous Ladies, and should he be passed over for promotion once more because of said rap, he might as well forget making it to lieutenant. Personally, I'd have a problem promoting to any position of authority someone who utilizes phrases like "freaky-deaky rap" in his daily conversation, but that's probably just me. Phoebe promises to be discreet. No comment. Darryl somewhat reluctantly agrees to accompany Phoebe and Raige to the murdered blonde's apartment. Piper makes to join them, but Darryl forbids her to tag along. Despite the fact the percolating infant has made Piper "self-healing and invincible," pregnant women are as a rule forbidden from crime scenes because of the chemicals used by the forensic scientists. Piper growls and grumbles and futzes with her hideous top while I rummage around for an old t-shirt to mop up the mess oozing from my chest.
The scene cuts to a municipal facade, upon which are emblazoned the words "CHIEF MEDICAL EXAMINER." Beneath these is the equally impressive "CORONER." Inside, Ice-T's picking up some extra cash moonlighting from his regular gig on Law & Order: SVU by fiddling around with a bone saw and some rubber gloves. Or maybe it's just some guy who looks like him. The Ice-Alike snaps his protective visor into place and prepares to hack away at the mummy. The moment the bone saw hits the wrappings, though, a series of powerful electrical jolts propels the Ice-Alike backwards through the air into a set of stainless steel shelves. The Ice-Alike then collapses onto the linoleum, dead. Dickless strolls into the frame, artfully sidestepping around the deceased coroner, and caresses the blonde's mummified corpse while psychoing a few romantic natterings to the "spirit of Isis" resting within. Meanwhile, I decide to refer to Dickless as Mr. (Hewitt) for the remainder of the recap, because Dickless is a bit blunt, and I never watched The Highlander. Apologies, but you'll have to make those "there can be only one" jokes yourselves. The shot cuts up to another stature-diminishing high angle as Mr. (Hewitt) places his hands on the mummy and erupts into a cloud of sand. This time, the mummy vanishes as well, leaving a thin layer of dust on the coroner's slab.
Meanwhile, over at the crime scene, Darryl has the gals register with the officer in charge. There's a bit of tedious goofing over Phoebe's assertion that she and Raige are psychics before Darryl leaves them alone in the axed blonde's living room. Then there's a bit of nauseating goofing over Phoebe's self-imposed post-Cole dating ban, during which Raige very nearly warns the Feebs that her business will scab over if she doesn't put it to use. Finally, the gals notice the scrying crystal and the map on the floor by the sofa. Raige urges Phoebe to "steal it," as Raige thinks she can work a little mojo on the thing back at the Manor. Phoebe's aghast, and protests that one doesn't just steal evidence from crime scenes. Raige rolls her eyes and summons the crystal into her hand with her orbing telekinesis, pocketing it as Darryl reenters the room. Raige lies that they found nothing worthwhile before hustling Phoebe out the door. Darryl darts a pair of suspicious eyes about the apartment.
Manor attic. Piper examines her reflection in one of the full-length mirrors, and sweet Jesus, I think I just grew a pair of ovaries. Change. The frigging. Blouse. As Piper twists and turns in front of the mirror, the Dolt softly murmurs from off-screen, "You look beautiful." Piper starts a bit, beams, and good-naturedly chides her husband for orbing in surreptitiously to spy on her. They share what I'm sure is a tender moment while I wonder what the fuck Brian Krause did to his hair. Some moron evidently convinced him a military buzz cut would draw attention away from his beer gut, and that moron was dead wrong. In fact, in some bizarre way, the buzz cut only serves to emphasize the beer gut, and the Dolt's been transformed into a white trash redneck angel as a result. That olive green long-sleeved crewneck he's sporting certainly isn't helping matters, either. He should show up week with a mullet. Raige rudely interrupts my increasingly bizarre musings by stomping into the attic from the hall. She and Phoebe parted ways at the blonde's apartment, and the Feebs is now "an orb away" at The Bay Mirror, having some unfortunate beautician scour her pores. What pertinent information have Piper and the Dolt uncovered while Raige was away? Plenty, as luck would have it. Piper found an entry for "Jeric," who's described in the Book of Shadows as follows:
A demon known not only for his witch killing, but also for his rituals of mummification. His evil dates as far back as ancient Egypt, and in the past few decades he has surfaced in the Middle East, Cairo, Istanbul, and Tripoli. He wears his swordfish by the pound, shot up and beloved by the scarabs of his decentralized bastardization.
Okay, not so much that last line, but whatever. My VCR's so old, and the images it produces so snowy and degraded, I'm surprised I could read any of it at all. The watercolor of Mr. (Hewitt) that accompanies the entry is appalling, by the way. He looks like a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal. The Dolt steps up to provide some hasty exposition: Mr. (Hewitt) has spent centuries abducting witches to function as hosts for the spirit of his wicked, evil girlfriend, Isis. Because two souls cannot share the same body, the hosts end up dying, so Mr. (Hewitt) keeps snatching stronger and stronger witches. Basically, he's hoping to latch onto a witch whose powers are of such strength that Isis can harness them to expel the host's soul before the host's physical form deteriorates. We get a reaction shot of Piper that seems to indicate she remembers all of this, but then she snits, "Are you telling me she's going to evict someone from their own body? That's rude." No, Piper. What's rude is recycling plot devices from embarrassing third-season episodes. What's even ruder is insulting the audience's intelligence by having you forget all about the time The Late Lamented sporked you with an athame to release the SlutEssence from your body. "What do mummies have to do with all this?" Raige asks. The Dolt duhs that Mr. (Hewitt) mummifies the bodies to prevent the spirit of Isis from "moving on" while he searches for a new host. Rose McGowan has the same dazed expression of disgusted disbelief on her face that I have on mine. Then she pulls it together long enough to "realize" that Mr. (Hewitt) must have been using the scrying crystal to locate his victim. The three hustle over to the attic's map, whereupon Raige recites the following while dangling the crystal from her hand:
Scrying secrets, come to me.
Drop again so I might see.
The crystal slams down on the corner of "Fifth and Hyde." "That's Phoebe," Piper breathes. DUN!
The Bay Mirror. The Bay Mirror would like to remind you that it's "The Newspaper Of The Year." As if. Phoebe zips her brand-new silver sports car into a parking space and emerges to find Mr. (Hewitt) lounging against a nearby roadster. "Great body," (Hewitt) smirks. "Mind if I borrow it for a while?" Oh, OW. Like a meat thermometer in my ear is that line. The thing is, Adrian Paul (Hewitt)'s clearly reveling in the cheese, so it's hard not to smirk along with him. As Raige, Piper, and the Dolt orb into the parking lot in broad daylight to bellow unheeded warnings at the Feebs -- and no, that's not conspicuous at all, you jackasses -- Phoebe launches into one of her standard-issue flying kicks, aiming for Mr. (Hewitt)'s disturbingly attractive face. Seriously, he's the strangest-looking B-movie sex symbol I've seen in a long time. He's what would happen if Rod Blagojevich mated with a basset hound, so why am I making damp eyes at him? Oh. That's right. The estrogen. Someone get Piper out of those goddamned clothes now. Anyway, Phoebe makes with the leaping kick. Mr. (Hewitt) simply catches her in his arms before erupting into another swirling cloud of sand as the camera spins around the space the two have just vacated. Not a bad effects shot, that. Raige, Piper, and the Dolt gape at the sand smoking on the asphalt before the oncoming commercials wallop the Dolt in the jaw.
Manor. In the dining room, Raige scries fruitlessly for the Feebs as the Dolt tries and fails to locate her with his Whitelighter spidey-sense. Or Lo-Jack. Or whatever the hell that stupid power of his is. During this, Piper bitches up a storm about her useless companions before Darryl interrupts via the telephone to fill them in on the coroner's demise and the mummy's disappearance. Long story short, Darryl's superiors blame him for Mr. (Hewitt)'s pre-credits escape from the long arm of the law, and Darryl's prospects for a promotion grow dimmer by the minute. Piper curtly cuts the call short, promising to do what she can for him later. Darryl stares at his cell in disbelief. Meanwhile, the Dolt notes that he could possibly help Darryl out, but doing so would involve bending a few Whitelighter rules. Piper's all, knock yourself out, Dolt. She and Raige will concentrate on finding the Feebs while the Dolt plays cops and robbers with the good detective.
An abrupt cut away from the Manor, followed by a slow pan over a few dusty outcroppings of rock, lands us in the middle of some tawdry stock footage of the pyramids at Giza. Those of you on the forums who write of toasting marshmallows on the banks of Denial should take this as a shout-out. Somewhere beneath the sand, (Hewitt) slings the unconscious Feebs onto a gold-toned table in the center of a well-preserved crypt. A lapis scarab identical to the trinket from earlier rests between the Fun Bags. The blonde's mummified remains lie on an adjacent table. (Hewitt) stands between the two, stretches out his arms like he's Jesus, and intones, "Khet mastaba hotep ka." (Translation: "Milano's going to suck as 'Isis.'") A reddish flare shoots from the blonde's remains into Phoebe's scarab, and the Feebs gasps and squeals herself awake. (Hewitt) whispers, "Welcome back, my love," and kisses her on the lips while stroking her hair. Despite (Hewitt)'s best efforts, there exists zero chemistry between the two actors. Surprise!
Casa Del Cole. Get ready for some fun. Raige and Piper step off the elevator into the shattered remains of the Casa, only to be greeted by a mighty Flaming Ball Of Death. The gals duck, and the FBOD ricochets off a mirror to plow back into the demon of the Casa himself. Cole lets out a roaring wail as gouts of flame envelop his body. After a moment, the flames snuff themselves out. Manic and smoking, Julian McMahon offers the meta-statement, "Dammit. Still here." Whee! Piper collects herself and suggests that Cole look into therapy. "I'd rather chop my head off than have it examined," he replies, crossing off "Ricocheting Flaming Balls Of Death" on his Big List Of Ways To Get Me Off This Godforsaken Show. He stops short and mutters, "Hey! That's an idea!" Cole makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, and a guillotine swoops down into the middle of the room from somewhere above. "I can't wait to see how I survive this," he giggles, eyes flashing. By the way, Cole's in dire need of a haircut and a shave, but I'll be damned if he doesn't still look pretty tasty. I need help. Cole practically skips over to the guillotine and arranges himself on the backboard facing the ceiling. Raige moves to leave, but Piper holds her in place while explaining their latest predicament to the insane man in the chopper. Cole raises a finger at Piper to shut her up, summons a basket to catch his head should the guillotine work as promised, then tells Piper to roll it up real tight and cram it. In so many words. Cole reclines once more and releases the blade. Piper rolls her eyes and freezes the mechanism. Cole groans and whines, "Can't you at least let me not die in peace?" Piper again requests his assistance, this time mentioning "Jeric" by name. Cole's ears perk up a bit at this, and he rises from the guillotine to plaster the gals with some more exposition. Seems (Hewitt)'s enemies in ancient Egypt hadn't the power to vanquish him, so they mummified him instead. "Isis" freed him and was "flayed alive, if memory serves" for her trouble. Ever since, (Hewitt)'s been wracked with grief. Raige hmmms that the story's sort of romantic, save for the whole offing-of-random-witches bit. "He's just a guy trying to get his love back," Cole deadpans. "Nothing wrong with that." The gradual destruction of your character over the last twenty-odd episodes would belie that assertion, my man, but hey, don't bother listening to me. I'm just the recapper, right? Cole distractedly notes that (Hewitt)'s the sort of demon Cole himself could work with, and wordlessly smears away after much wriggling of animated eyebrows. Raige slings a commiserating arm across Piper's shoulders and sighs, "I think you just made a bad thing worse."
The Entirely Unironic Segue Fairy lugs us back to (Hewitt)'s crypt, where the bad thing that is this episode just got a hell of a lot worse. How? Try Alyssa Milano writhing past a hieroglyphed pillar, swiveling her lamé-swaddled ass in an Kern-approved version of The Dance Of The Seven Veils. The Fun Bags angrily wrestle each other for dominance beneath a gold-toned, appliqué-encrusted latex brassiere. I bury my face in my hands in an outpouring of the sort of shame Alyssa Milano so obviously is incapable of feeling for herself. (Hewitt) somehow manages to take this all in from his slouch in a chair without barking up a lung. "Glad to see you're feeling so alive," he gamely offers as he sucks on a grape to prevent himself from dissolving into unseemly gales of derisive laughter. "It's this body," Alyssa slithers. "I've never felt so much power before. Passion. Desire." Saline. She smoothly tries to get her some by announcing, "Just because the witch is in me doesn't mean there's not room for you, too." Class-say! God, this is awful. Hideously, indescribably, soul-scarringly awful. I have a horrible feeling Brad Kern tarts Alyssa Milano up in ludicrous scenes such as this not, as he claims, to chase higher ratings, but rather to provide himself with some free masturbation material. So disturbing. So...bad. I can't keep watching this scene over and over again. I just can't. It's too, too traumatizing. So, we'll cut to the chase. Bring Me The Head Of John The Baptist Barbie reads the following from a slip of paper in an attempt to banish the Feeble One's soul:
Together no more through time.
Expel her soul -- leave only mine.
Nothing happens. Well, nothing happens to the Feebs. Something nasty happens to the wall of the crypt, however, when Cole blows his way in with a bit of his purloined Waste Land mojo. "That's my witch!" he roars, flipping his hands in the air as he picks his way through the rubble left by his entrance. He then brightly introduces himself as the guy "who used to be The Source Of All Evil" before making (Hewitt) an offer he can't refuse. While the Feebs is damn strong on her own, (Hewitt) will need a Power of Three spell to banish her soul from her body. Cole proposes he and (Hewitt) work together to lure the other two Charmed Ones into the crypt. He adds that they don't have much time, as Phoebe's body is already "burning out." Alyssa demonstrates this by panting and fanning at her face with her hand. The more powerful the host, you see, the faster the destruction of the host's physical form. Don't even bother asking. Just go with it. (Hewitt) refuses to accept Cole's offer without a replacement host for the spirit of Isis. "How do you feel about redheads?" Cole asks slyly. (Hewitt) glowers.
The Marina. Or a reasonable facsimile thereof. Detective Darryl tools on over to an abandoned shipping container and hops out of his car to find the Dolt grinning like a fool. "What are you doing here?" Darryl demands. Darryl received an anonymous tip that (Hewitt) was in the area, and the Dolt best be making himself scarce. The Dolt admits that he, the Dolt, was the anonymous tipster. Darryl makes irritated, angst-ridden noises until the Dolt glamours himself into (Hewitt). Adrian Paul forever endears himself to me by capturing Brian Krause's native slackjawed demeanor with a few quick facial twitches and a wimpy little shrug of his shoulders. Can you believe it? Mr. (Hewitt) actually researched the role once he was offered the part. Shocking stuff for Charmed, I realize. I amuse myself for a few seconds imagining Adrian Paul shadowing Brian Krause on the set for an hour or so, mimicking Krause's doofy physical tics until he had them down cold. That must have pissed off Krause something fierce. Jackhole. Anyway, the Dolt(witt) begs Darryl to arrest him. They had Krause overdub the dialogue, incidentally, so (Hewitt) appears to speak fluent Dolt. Darryl, outraged, refuses to snap the cuffs on the guy. The Dolt(witt) rolls his wimpy shoulders around for a bit and slugs Darryl in the jaw just as a squad car pulls up onto the dock. Darryl muscles the Dolt(witt) up against the shipping container and arrests him, eliciting a round of impressed congratulations from the officers who've arrived on the scene. The Dolt(witt) tosses off another amusing Krausian grimace as the uniforms shove him into the back of the prowler. Darryl shakes his head all, "Oh, shit."
Manor. Up in the attic, Piper's tapping into the percolating infant's powers to attempt a super-scry for the Feebs. The crystal swings in ever-widening circles before flying out of Piper's hand across the room. It embeds itself in a spinning globe in the corner, and thus do the Manor Ps discover the errant P in Egypt. Raige wisely supposes that (Hewitt) has set a trap for them. "Who cares?" Piper blithely replies. "I'm unbreakable." Piper links arms with Raige and bats at Raige's hand, ordering her to "orb faster." Raige tosses her head around before orbing on out of there with Piper.
(Hewitt)'s Crypt. Raige and Piper orb in and immediately cross to Bring Me The Head Of John The Baptist Barbie's side. Decapitation Barbie weakly bleats their names, leading Piper and Raige to assume that the Feebs maintains some degree of control over her body. They've assumed incorrectly, of course, which is confirmed when Cole brightly announces from the far corner of the room, "See! I told you they'd come!" Piper gapes and prepares to engage her Hands Of Discontent, but Cole flaps his arm around, and Piper vanishes into a wormhole in the floor. Raige attempts to orb away, but (Hewitt) has reactivated the charms protecting the crypt. Raige's cloud of orbs bounces around before Cole smacks it with some of his telekinesis. Raige rematerializes in an unconscious heap. "Very nice," (Hewitt) smooths.
Back at the Manor, Piper drops out of a wormhole that appears on the parlor ceiling and crashes onto one of the couches. "Hey!" she yowls at the air.
Crypt. Decapitation Barbie passes out, (Hewitt) instructs the audience to worship his nose hairs, (Hewitt)'s marauding horde of hungry CGI bandages encases Alyssa for the remainder of the episode, and a great cry of rejoicing rises up across the land. (Hewitt) then places matching scarabs on the women's chests, stretches out his arms, and repeats his earlier intonation. Though, of course, the inflection is slightly different this time around, so the phrase now translates as "McGowan has to be better in the role, right?" Raige awakens. "Welcome back, my love," (Hewitt) murmurs with a decided lack of originality before planting a sloppy wet one on Raige's lips. I am pleased to report that Adrian Paul (Hewitt) and Rose McGowan appear to be savoring a mutual enjoyment of the liplock. Meanwhile, Psycho Cole hovers over Phoebe's mummified remains for a moment before vanishing into a spate of commercials.
Manor sunporch. Piper paces fitfully, screaming for the Dolt. In orbs the Dolt(witt), clad in an orange prison jumpsuit. Damn. Where's Vern Schillinger now that we really need him? The Dolt(witt) dolts a doltish grin while wiggling his eyebrows, so Piper blows him up. The Dolt(witt) dissolves into an explosive cloud of orbs before congealing back into Dolt(witt) form on the other side of the room. "What'd ya do that for?" he grunts, flailing his arms around. Piper shoots him the suspicious side-eye. The Dolt(witt) apologizes and de-glamours into Famous Original Dolt form. Thus endeth the entertaining Dolt-related portion of the evening. There are plenty of tedious Dolt-related portions coming up, though, so you'll want to be sure to stick around. Not. The Dolt fills Piper in on his madcap escapades with Darryl in prison. Piper snarls at him and darts upstairs to change -- finally -- out of her hideous maternity togs.
Up in the Bridal Boudoir, Piper ducks into the closet to slip into something more comfortable while the Dolt strips down right there before God and His Creation, for all mankind to see. This episode just keeps getting worse, doesn't it? Just when you think they couldn't possibly sink any lower than Alyssa Milano jiggling the Fun Bags as Salome, they throw the Dolt's pasty white thighs in our collective face. The thighs are so white, they're almost blue, for Christ's sake. And glowing. While I avert my gaze from the aesthetic nightmare on the screen, I'll take this opportunity to wonder where Piper got that closet -- seeing as how she converted the damn thing into a nursery in the season premiere -- and also to wonder why she's being so modest about changing in front of the Dolt. They've seen each other naked, after all. Hell, we've seen them naked. Several times. Was the network squeamish about having Holly Marie Combs strip down to her bra while ensconced in her pregnancy prosthesis? After all, they had no qualms about pasting a couple of latex scales onto Alyssa's tits and tossing her out in front of the public. I think Ms. Combs herself balked at stripping for the camera; thus, the hastily restored closet space in Piper's boudoir. While I've been babbling on, Piper and the Dolt have engaged in some babbling of their own, but it's not of any importance. Basically, she gives him the skinny on (Hewitt) and Cole, and he urges her to come up with a plan to rescue her sisters. The Dolt's radioactive blue thighs were, therefore, entirely gratuitous.
(Hewitt)'s Crypt. The gentleman of the tomb massages oils and unguents into Raige's back. I suppose I should be calling her Risis now, right? That's going to irk. Risis purrs under (Hewitt)'s ministrations. They banter. Risis shoots (Hewitt) a look so sultry it would scorch the hieroglyphs off a crypt's walls. (Hewitt) responds with a leer of his own that's so filthy, I blush. The actors are having far too much fun with all of this crap, and it's somewhat infectious. There's a bit of exposition going on as well, specifically that Risis is to finish the Power of Three soul vanquish. Cole enters and drapes himself lewdly -- and crazily! -- over The Phoemummy. He and (Hewitt) plot and scheme while Risis sidles off behind a screen to dress. As the plotting and the scheming crescendo, Cole dematerializes in a swirling cloud of glowing golf balls. (Hewitt) quickly determines that Piper must have summoned Cole to the Manor. Risis just wants to get naked again, now that they have the crypt to themselves. (Hewitt) seems amenable to that idea.
Manor attic. Cole rematerializes in the center of the room, still in that swirling cloud of glowing golf balls. Point To Ponder, for those so inclined: The glowing golf balls have been used previously on this series as a method of transportation for good humans and good humans alone. So, is this an error in continuity, or did Piper merely summon Cole's human half? Have at it. Meanwhile, I'll describe the knock-down, drag-out smackdown that ensues once Cole gets his bearings. Piper demands that Cole return her sisters to her unharmed. Cole gives Piper the finger. In stereo. Oh, he does not, but he would have were this show airing exclusively on cable. Piper flings out her Hands Of Discontent, and the resulting explosion knocks him back a step or two. Cole grins and hurls a Flaming Ball Of Death. The percolating infant erects around its mother some sort of energy displacement shield that deflects the FBOD into various antiques on either side of Piper. "Impressive," Cole nods. Piper smiles sweetly and flings out her Hands once more. Cole's face vanishes in a cloud of fire, and he flips end over end across the room. Winded and panting, he nevertheless collects himself from the floor with unabashed glee at the fight to come.
(Hewitt)'s Crypt. (Hewitt) and Risis mack. Risis sweats. Ruh-roh.
Attic. A Flaming Ball Of Death dumps Piper onto a divan before the percolating infant sends it whizzing into a chandelier. Piper grunts and smacks Cole in the teeth with some explosive mojo. Cole's tantalizing derriere vanquishes a few empty shipping cartons. Enter the Dolt. "Hey!" he yawps like the great big pantywaist he is. "What are you guys doing?" What does it look like they're doing, you halfwit? The Dolt reminds the sparring ex-in-laws that they're both invincible, so they might as well cool it with the smackdown and try to talk things through. Cole lays it on the line: Piper must choose to save one of her sisters, otherwise both will die -- Phoebe from the mummification, and Raige from whatever the hell it is that kills witches who have been possessed by Isis. Had I not vowed to forego Highlander references in this recap, here would be where I'd insert a lousy "Highlander Fever" joke. You know, it's like Jungle Fever, only plaid. Or something like that. Is this episode over yet? Cole's of the opinion that Piper will choose Phoebe over Raige, due to her longer shared history with the Feebs, as well as the fact that only Isis can rescue the Feebs from (Hewitt)'s hungry bandages. Piper flatly refuses to choose between the two. I really hope they're not shooting for a Sophie's Choice level of dramatic tension here, because if they are, they're failing miserably. I mean, we all know the only person who's going to die is tonight's guest star, right? Anyway, Cole snickers and urges Piper to call him when she makes up her mind. He pulls a brief, insanity-flavored "Will it be door number one? Or door number two? One? Two? One? Two?" thing before giggling -- crazily! -- and smearing out into the commercial break.
Manor parlor. Aftermath. Piper bleakly regards a framed photo of the Reconstituted Charmed Ones in happier times, and sniffles. The Dolt bounds down the stairs for a pep talk. Shut up, Dolt. Long story short, Piper stumbles across a cunning plan. Of course, she stumbles across it through her tears of despair and by "listening to her heart," or some such nonsense. Whatever.
(Hewitt)'s Crypt. (Hewitt) and Risis fret that Cole won't return in time to save her. Just then, Cole smears into the chamber with a po-faced Piper. "She's decided!" Cole announces with a triumphant -- and crazy! -- flourish. "Drum roll! Please!" Piper shuffles over to the tables containing her prone sisters and glumly admits that she's chosen to save Phoebe. "The suspense was killing me," snarks Cole. (Hewitt) shoves Risis's soul vanquish into Piper's mug, but she declines, claiming she's written a spell of her own. "[Raige]," Piper states evenly, taking Risis by the hand, "I know you can hear me, and I know you can understand, but I can't lose Phoebe." "Just do it," Risis grunts. Heh. Piper slides a sheet of notebook paper from the pocket of her jeans and lowers her head solemnly to recite the following:
Two warring souls now burn inside
Where only one can reside.
I call upon the Power of Three
To save her body and set [Raige] free.
Risis gasps, and a glowy essence slips from her body to dissipate in the air. (Hewitt) rushes to her side and, as he lifts her from the table, asks breathlessly, "Did it work?" "It did," she allows, caressing his shoulders. "And I know just how to celebrate." Raige knees (Hewitt) in the groin. I guess he's not the emasculated god of myth after all, for he doubles over in agony and crumples to the floor. "Oooh," Cole winces sympathetically before Piper sends him flying into the far wall with her Hands Of Discontent. Raige crosses to the appealingly silent Feebs and intones, "Dromos wabet khufu nemes akh." The marauding horde of hungry CGI bandages slinks away from Phoebe's body, defeated, and Phoebe shudders back to life. Make a note of this episode: Henceforth, Raige can resurrect the dead. The Dolt is now utterly useless, right? Raige glances at (Hewitt) and shrugs, "You really can't mess with sisters." Piper sneers, flinging her Hands in his direction, and (Hewitt) disappears in a cloud of chunky dirt. Cole picks himself up from the ground and loudly applauds Piper's victory. Piper helpfully reveals that she knew all along Raige would have plumbed the depths of Isis's soul to retrieve the resurrection spell, or something, so the Glamorous Ladies never were in any real danger. I think. Cole mildly -- but crazily! -- shrugs his shoulders and perks, "time!" "time?" Phoebe asks. Dammit! It speaks! "What happened to you, Cole?" "I've gone mad," he simply -- yet crazily! -- replies. Phoebe's eye-roll is audible. Cole smears off to points unknown as Piper asserts, "We really need to find a way to kill him." "I wish it was that easy," mopes the Feebs.
Manor. Piper enters through the front doors in a tasteful, relatively low-key crimson maternity blouse with a few subtly-embroidered pink floral accents. Well, they're subtle compared to that last atrocious top she was wearing. Thank. God. She took that thing off. Piper strolls into the parlor and shrieks. Not to worry, though -- it's just the Feebs and Raige lounging around the house, giving each other mud masks and painting each other's fingernails. The Weekly Summation follows, during which we discover that Raige is learning to pamper herself, Darryl received his promotion, and Piper has reached the following conclusion regarding her prosthetic device: "If you've got it, flaunt it." Piper then hikes up her shirt and displays said prosthetic device, which looks like a fiberglass birdbath glued to her midriff with a couple of layers of acrylic paint. Phoebe says something stupid and Raige squeals with delight as Piper strikes a heavily-pregnant pose and we fade to black.
up: Two Phoebes. Because God knows we needed another one.