“ Then it hit me: If Adrian Paul (Hewitt) is Isis's boy toy, he must be Osiris. And that means The Highlander is dickless. ”
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.
Y Tu Mummy Tambin
“ 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? ”
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.