Demian: Baron von C., you are the wind beneath my wings.
Couch Baron: Oh, come on. I'm still trying to heal over here, and you hit me with Beaches? Ew!
Demian: I meant that in the best of all possible ways.
Couch Baron: Get over yourself. Though I suppose it's better than being a complete DICK DICK DICK DICK ASSHOLE dumb-ass who sucks the ass of a llama, right?
Demian: True. Hey, not to change the topic or anything -- because, you know, llama ass? Yowza! -- but I was wondering…
Couch Baron: Yes?
Demian: Do you think I could borrow Miguel Alvarez for a couple of nights? Maybe after sweeps?
Couch Baron: You realize Miggy doesn't go for the guys, don't you?
Demian: Oh, no. I knew that.
Couch Baron: Well, what the hell are you going to do with him?
Demian: I just thought it might be nice to have him kick the holy crap out of Brad Kern. Repeatedly.
Couch Baron: Done.
Fade up on one of the ugly Done Ones writhing about in his bassinet in the Manor parlor. Oh, don't look at me like that. Granted, this Percolated Infant isn't a complete eyesore, but that one from last week is way cuter. No offense to the stage mom pimping out her newborn here, but lady? Your kid's head really is quite oddly misshapen. Just thought you should know. Raige, crooning a lullaby, hovers above Quasimodo as a roach-infested dark demonic force lurks in the background, waiting for the right moment to fry Raige's distracted derriere with a Flaming Ball Of Death. Ooops! That's not a dark demonic force at all! He's actually Raige's new slampiece Nate Parks, as portrayed by Norman Reedus. Those of you who caught Norman in Gossip should not be surprised to learn that he looks just as pestilential here as he did in the movie. It's called a shower, you skank. Look into it. A little something to tighten up the luggage beneath your eyes wouldn't hurt, either. Anyway, once Quasimodo's drifted off to sleep, Raige and Slampiece Ratbag retire to the sofa for a bit of flirtatious banter. Ratbag compliments Raige on her vocal skills, noting that she's "better than most of the singers [he] book[s] at the club." Raige titters nervously. She's been painfully self-conscious about her voice ever since an unfortunate incident dating from her eighth-grade graduation, wherein she froze up in terror when it came time to warble out the school song. She emphasizes that she's avoided public singing ever since that awful day, so we all know Ratbag's going to haul her up onstage for a manky duet before we hit the half-hour mark, right? Right.
Having dispensed with this bit of the exposition, Raige and Ratbag snog for a bit before Ratbag rises to fetch some more Merlot from the kitchen. As he vanishes through the dining room, an astonishingly well-built and shirtless demon of color materializes behind Raige and clamps her head between his hands. Raige squeals in agony for a bit while DOC's wicked mojo races through the bulging CGI veins in her forehead. She orbs out of his clutches to the other side of the room and whispers urgently for Piper and the Dolt. The two orb in, obviously from a night on the town, and Piper instantly demolishes DOC with a flick of her wrist. Raige races back to stamp out the flaming carpet, like, since when did the vanquished set fire to the furnishings as they howled and wailed and blazed their merry way to Hell? Slampiece Ratbag returns with the wine, and awkward chatter regarding Piper and the Dolt's stealth reappearance ensues. "I didn't hear you come in," Ratbag notes. Then you must be deaf, scuzzball, because the Dolt made as much damn noise as he always does when he orbed in from dinner. "Yeah, how about that?" Piper replies, playing along. "Kinda like magic." Shut up, Piper.
Meanwhile, over in some foul, dank chamber, flame spews from the ceiling to disgorge the Demon Of Color on the floor. He scrambles to his feet, making with the "What?" and the "Where am I?" as Crazy Grace Zabriskie coolly regards him from the far side of the room. "You're back from the dead, my dear," Crazy Grace smiles, before promptly making him an offer he can't refuse. She demands a little face time with DOC's "king," otherwise she'll finish the DOC vanquish Piper began with her Wrist Of Discontent. "Tell your king that if he works with me, I'll serve him all three Charmed Ones on a platter." Crazy Grace spits out that bit as if it had been burning her tongue. God, she's good. "You're after the Charmed Ones?" the none-too-bright Demon Of Color asks. "No, dear," Crazy Grace condescends, her voice dripping with contempt. "I'm after their baby." The camera tracks in for a horrifying close-up of Crazy Grace's insane grimace as we scamper off into the credits in a state of abject terror. Or something like that.
Manor. Up on the sun porch, Phoebe paces past some foam-core display boards with the cordless attached to her ear, blaring at Chronic The Hedgehog on the other end of the line. She's apparently converted the room into a home office at some point in the last week, for there are stacks of newspapers piled on various tables, along with spreadsheets pinned to the walls and a desktop PC over by the windows. One of the display boards features mock-ups of magazine ads emblazoned with slogans like, "Boston Says: ASK Phoebe -- She Has ALL The Answers," so we know there's some silly syndication subplot lurking beneath the surface of this episode. Also, if that's what Boston really has to say, Boston can suck my ass. Phoebe blithers on about the "preliminary research" she's done for Atlanta, mentioning both Dear Abby and Ann Landers, like, you nitwit. Ann Landers is dead, and Dear Abby hasn't been read by anyone under the age of fifty in twenty years. You should be worrying about Dan Savage, not some withered old bag who still prints things like "Well, lash me with a wet noodle!" whenever she's caught screwing up an answer. Idiot. "I don't care if the South thinks I'm too edgy," Phoebe shouts as Piper fusses with one of her Asian babies over on the wicker loveseat. "The South could use a little edge." And with that, millions of rednecks start rooting around for battered and sticky copies of Teen Steam to toss onto the NASCAR-sponsored bonfire, along with whatever Dixie Chicks merchandise they have yet to destroy. Meanwhile, Piper presses a camera to her face and snaps the latest in what I'm sure is an endless series of photographs featuring her shape-shifting infant. Wyatt-San gazes up at her impassively. His face breaks into a gummy grin, however, when the Dolt arrives to perform something called "The Popcorn Machine," which involves the Dolt bouncing Wyatt-San on his knee while growling, "Fry, you little…pop, pop, pop, pop, pop." I think the Dolt's finally lost it. God knows I have.
After far too much of this, the Dolt prepares to squeeze Wyatt-San into a smart new romper he picked up the day before. Just take a moment to imagine this dimwit shopping for baby clothes, okay? Shudder. Wyatt-San wriggles and grunts. Phoebe and the Dolt correctly interpret this as his "hungry cry," allowing Piper to establish her Issue Of The Week by bitching that everyone else in the Manor seems to have a closer connection to her little shape-shifter than she does. "I am a terrible mother!" she whines. "I don't even recognize my own child's cries!" Just as she launches into a tirade about maternal bonding and its absence in her life, an explosion erupts upstairs. Phoebe quickly hangs up on Chronic so she and Piper can race to the attic, where they find Raige brewing up vials of "stun potion" for the astonishingly well-built and shirtless "Kazi Demons" who keep invading the Manor. The plan is to capture the Demon Of Color and torture him with the potion until he reveals the whereabouts of his king. As the Kazi king creates his minions from his own body, should the Glamorous Ladies kill the king, they'll kill all of his pesky underlings as well. "Good plan," Phoebe enthuses. "An oldie, but a goodie." The Dolt enters with The Precious Done One Log strapped to his chest, bellowing, "Okay, let's go! The fair waits for no witch!" Fair? What fair? Why, the street fair they agreed to roam through "as a family," of course. Phoebe begs off, as Chronic's scheduled a syndication meeting for that afternoon, but Piper's not having it. "Do you really want to miss [The Precious Done One Log's] first street fair?" she sing-songs. Piper? Do you really want to lose Phoebe's income, especially since your nightclub's been running in the red for months now that the economy's taken another nosedive? You don't? Then shut the fuck up. Kidding. Piper didn't actually answer me. She never does. Sigh. Phoebe relents, Raige passes out the stun vials, and the gals plus the Dolt and The Precious Done One Log exit the attic.
Crazy Grace's Bar And Grill. The Kazi king flares in through a window and immediately berates Crazy Grace for summoning him to her chamber. Not smart, douchebag. Pity the fool who crosses Crazy Grace Zabriskie. She's scarier than that thing trapped beneath the American Idol stage. Kazaa, incidentally, is dressed like an extra from Shogun. Yeah, yeah. Like any of you remember an early-'80s Richard Chamberlain miniseries well enough to know what the hell I'm talking about, but that's not important right now. What is important is Crazy Grace's cunning plan. Crazy Grace "must lay hands on" the Done One, the better to understand the sort of threat he represents to the future of evil. You'll remember she received a hint of that threat during her last appearance, a hint she now describes as "a mere taste" "of power like we've never known." She intends to weaken the Ps using an ancient magic. Once she's done so, Kazaa's to unleash his minions upon the Manor so that Crazy Grace can gain the Done One's trust using whatever it is she intends to steal from the Glamorous Ladies. Because we all saw the previews, and because Crazy Grace is now fondling a "See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil" monkey totem, we have a pretty good idea what she's going to swipe. Right? Right.
Meanwhile, over at the street fair, Piper's videotaping Quasimodo snoozing against the Dolt's chest while the Dolt tries and fails to interest nature's hideous mistake in a miniature pony. You know what would have ruled? If Quasimodo's first street fair had been that huge annual blowout on Folsom Street. Piper could stock up on the leather pants and wristbands and pick up a kicky little biker cap for the Done One while she's at it. But alas, this is the San Francisco of Charmed, where there are no gay people. Or Asians. Unless you count the mime currently taunting the oblivious Phoebe. He appears to be both. The Feebs is nattering away on her cell phone while the mime mocks her from behind. Raige arrives to break things up by shoving an enormous cone of cotton candy into the mime's face, with Piper videotaping the entire exchange. I like that they're emphasizing Phoebe and Piper's over-reliance upon their hearing and sight by using these relatively subtle and surprisingly naturalistic cues. I don't like that they couldn't figure out a way to incorporate Raige's voice into the whole thing. Yeah, there's her snippy little remark to the flaming Asian about how "everyone hates mimes," but whatever. You take what you can get on this show.
The camera cuts over to a nearby stall, atop which perches a screeching monkey. I think it's Marcel from Friends and Outbreak. Fortunately, neither David Schwimmer nor Dustin Hoffman will be joining us for this evening's festivities. Asshat hacks. Piper, Phoebe, Raige, the Dolt, and The Precious Done One Log wander over to bicker about Phoebe's work schedule while Marcel hovers above their heads. At an opportune moment, Marcel leaps from the stall onto Phoebe's shoulder and presses his paw against her ear. He hops over to Raige to slap a palm over her mouth before finally landing on Piper's head to sling a furry arm across her eyes. Quasimodo whimpers while various onlookers point and laugh. See? I told you this kid was funny-looking. The Dolt decides that Quasimodo's "overstimulated," and prepares to orb back to the Manor while Piper drops off her film for processing and Phoebe heads to her afternoon appointment. "I think that monkey got dust in my eye," Piper bitches. "Do you hear that ringing?" Phoebe dims. Raige clears her throat. Testily. Get it? Good, because even Marcel's had enough of this crap. He howls and spits and rays on over to…
…Crazy Grace's Bar And Grill. Crazy Grace feeds Marcel a peanut before tossing a little glowy mojo. Marcel flares up yellow and morphs into the monkey totem from earlier. Kazaa wants to attack immediately, but Crazy Grace stomps all over that rash idea. "No," she orders. "The witches are infected, but the monkey's curse is designed to punish," she explains. "It won't take their senses until the moment the witches need them most. Muah ha ha ha ha ha ha!" Okay, Crazy Grace doesn't cackle. Then again, Crazy Grace doesn't need to. She's creepy enough without it.
Moment Of Need, Part The First. We cut to The Bay Mirror, where Phoebe, running late, jiggles into a conference room to find Elise Rothman, Girl Editor waiting rather impatiently with a trio of consultants from the never-named newspaper syndicate. The only one of these three to get any lines is the puffy, soul-patched, and terribly fey "image consultant" Chronic hired to whip Phoebe into shape. While he's not as irritating as The Sassy Sissy, he's enough of a stereotype to set my teeth on edge. "I think you're beautiful," he minces, before qualifying, "Stylish -- approachable." I'll take that as code for "bizarre -- slutty" and keep moving. The Pansy continues to gush just as Phoebe's hearing flees the scene. Would that I could do the same, so I wouldn't have to listen to any more of this tedious fag's never-ending Phoebe praise. Fortunately, the Pansy's voice quickly grows tinnier and tinnier until it fades out completely. Phoebe shoves a finger into her ear and digs around for a bit before squinting as she watches the group's lips move without hearing a sound. Elise rests a hand on Phoebe's shoulder and mouths, "Are you all right?" Phoebe, stone deaf at this point, rises uneasily from her chair and blunders out of the office while babbling an excuse for cutting the meeting short. Elise, outraged, shrieks after her, to no effect.
Moment Of Need, Part The Second. Over in a nightclub that bears a suspicious resemblance to that "ballroom" from the beginning of the season, Raige and Slampiece Ratbag hold hands and schmoop at each other across a tiny table as a pianist plinks out innocuous background music on a small, low stage. Slampiece Ratbag asks Raige if she's the type of gal who likes surprises. "You're not gonna propose, are you?" she asks with a wary side-eye. "Uh, no," Ratbag replies evenly enough, though something tells me this exchange will become terribly important in a week or so. Something called "spoilers." Raige relents, so Ratbag gestures towards the club's emcee, who bounds up to the 1940s big-band microphone and announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat for you tonight to make your happy hour just a little happier -- local girl [Raige] Matthews in her debut!" Raige. Wigs. "Are you kidding?" she hisses. "Eighth grade was a long time ago," Ratbag smooths, taking her hand to lead her towards the stage. Raige, resisting Ratbag all the way, insists that that long-ago graduation humiliation made for "the worst day of [her] life." Raige, honey. Simmer. I can think of at least one day that was worse, and I don't even know you that well. "All my friends laughed at me! Bobby Maynard broke up with me!" Is that a fact? Well, then, you've convinced me, doll -- staring down a bunch of jeering, faithless, snot-nosed preadolescents is certainly far worse than watching your parents burn to death in the Family Four-Door Of Fiery Doom. Not. Raige continues to protest while hacking up bits of lung, claiming that the very idea of singing for strangers has paralyzed her throat. Ratbag just smiles and says, "You just strike me as the type of girl who likes to face her fears, not run from them." Slick, Ratbag. Real slick. Raige frowns, but he's got her number, so she slowly steps onto the stage, whispers a few words at the pianist, and hesitantly approaches the microphone. The pianist riffs through the opening bars of "Isn't It Romantic." Raige gets through the first two words of the title before her throat seizes up. The camera pulls in on her horrified face as a bit of feedback whines through the club's sound system. She darts her eyes around the room, mortified, before bolting for the door. Ratbag, chagrined, chases after her.
Moment Of Need, Part The Third. Piper tools down a rather busy avenue in the Grand Cherokee, squinting a bit at the glare as her cell phone rings. It's Raige, who's frantically trying to send some sort of signal using a touch-tone phone. Piper, of course, can't figure out what the hell is going on, and presently has a bigger problem on her hands when her vision doubles, then triples, then blurs before blinking out entirely. She blindly twists the wheel towards the curb while slamming on the brakes. We get a passenger's-side view of an onrushing cement pole before smashing into the commercial break.
Manor, that evening. Up in the parlor, Phoebe's popped Kill It Before It Dies into the VCR, and proceeds to crank up the volume on the TV. She can't hear a thing. Frustrated, she shuts off the set and clomps through the Manor's main floor, screaming for Piper and Raige. Raige enters through the front door behind her, and -- oh, dear. Wackiness. Raige wordlessly gesticulates behind Phoebe's back while Phoebe continues into the kitchen. Raige pouts and slings her handbag at her sister, missing the Feebs entirely but shattering the vase on the dining room table. She stamps her foot and orbs off the sun porch to rematerialize in the kitchen right in front of Phoebe. "I LOST MY HEARING DURING THE BIGGEST MEETING OF MY LIFE," Phoebe screams. "I CAN'T HEAR A THING." WE KNOW. STOP SHOUTING. Raige flaps her hands in the air, indicating the Feebs should dial it down a notch or twelve. Phoebe, not getting it, pleads for Raige's help, as she believes she alone has been affected. "I THINK MAGIC'S BEHIND THIS," she announces. A round of charades follows, during which Raige pantomimes both an itchy primate and a Flaming Ball Of Death. After initially guessing "PMS MONKEY," Phoebe finally realizes, "A DEMON MONKEY STOLE MY HEARING." Raige nods vigorously, then indicates her throat. "AND YOUR VOICE?" Phoebe guesses. Raige nods some more before flinging herself in Phoebe's arms, exhausted from the effort.
Out on the sun porch, the Dolt orbs in with blind Piper and The Precious Done One Log. He eases the wife onto the wicker loveseat and promises to return as soon as he deposits The Log in its bassinet upstairs. Back in the kitchen, Raige hears the chattering and drags Phoebe into the dining room. The subsequent hijinks are recapper-proof and basically involve Piper stumbling around while Phoebe screams and Raige scribbles notes on a legal pad until all three ladies understand what really transpired at the fair. Mind you, it's sort of funny and doesn't entirely suck, but much like every processing summit we've seen over the last four and a half years, it drags on for too long while providing no new information to the audience. Eventually, the Dolt bumbles onto the scene and wonders what gives. The gals strike the See No/Hear No/Speak No Evil pose, which even a moron of the Dolt's magnitude can interpret. As he's the only one with his faculties intact -- limited though those faculties might be -- he assumes control of the situation. Piper's to remain in the Bridal Boudoir with the Done One, as the kid's shimmering force field should protect her in the likely event of an attack. Meanwhile, Raige needs to brew more of that Kazaa stun potion while Phoebe abuses the Book of Shadows for information on demonic monkeys. The four split up, with Piper tripping on the stairs, like, can't one of you Whitelightery types orb the poor woman up to her bedroom? Jackasses.
Crazy Grace's Bar And Grill. Kazaa unwisely takes issue with Crazy Grace's plan, demanding to attack the Manor at that very moment. Long story short, Kazaa still doesn't get it, so Crazy Grace must slowly spell out her intentions. She can access the "senses" trapped inside the Petrified Marcel, you see, and intends to use them to achieve her goal. I'm ignoring the fact that speech is not a sense, okay? I mean, I'd correct Crazy Grace and everything, but she'd probably torch my mouthy ass, so I'll be leaving that one alone. I'm sure you'll understand. "You'd be surprised what you can do with a set of eyes, a pair of ears, and a voice," Crazy Grace explains. "You might even be able to trick an infant into believing you're one of the family." She raises the Petrified Marcel up to the side of her face and breathes, "Let's see that beautiful baby boy." The middle "See No" monkey glows yellow as Crazy Grace's eyes flare white and we cross-fade to…
…The Achingly Cute Doltine Cracker, and there goes my phantom uterus again with the throbbing. AC/DC's grouchy. Blind Piper checks his diaper, then tries to placate him with that creepy Popcorn Machine crap, but AC/DC's not having any of it and continues to gripe. The Dolt enters and correctly interprets AC/DC's mewling as gas, so Piper slings the kid over her shoulder. AC/DC promptly belches formula all the way down her back. Okay, not really, but they did Foley in a tremendous burp, which made me snicker. It also made me remember all of the times my infant nieces and nephews decorated whatever I was wearing with the poorly digested contents of their stomachs. My phantom uterus? No longer throbbing. Piper bitches some more about her inability to distinguish between her son's various cries. The Dolt offers a brief "buck up, little camper" monologue wherein he reminds her that the instant maternal bond stuff is a myth. Piper clenches. AC/DC, meanwhile, has fallen asleep. Word, AC/DC. Word. Phoebe chooses this moment to screech from upstairs about the results of her Book abuse. Piper passes AC/DC to the Dolt and fumbles out of the room. She gropes her way towards the attic stairs, passing right by the silent and ominous Crazy Grace, who has materialized in the hall with the Petrified Marcel. Once Piper's staggered up the attic stairs, Crazy Grace lifts the totem to her face, and the "Hear No" monkey glows yellow. Phoebe's tinny little voice blares, "The monkey didn't come after us on its own. Someone very powerful is behind this." Crazy Grace puckers her lips and bulges her insane eyes.
Attic. Raige works on her potion as Piper edges over towards Phoebe, who reads aloud from the Book's entry on the Petrified Marcel. Seems an ages-old sorcerer conjured up Marcel to swipe his enemies' senses. However, the sorcerer was a kinky bastard who got off on primate abuse -- spanking the monkey, if you will -- so, in an act of reckless rebellion, Marcel absconded with his master's voice. As punishment, the monkey-spanker transformed Marcel into the totemic See No, Etc. tchotchke now owned by Crazy Grace. "Read my lips," Piper instructs. "Is there anything in [the Book] that will get our senses back?" Phoebe shoots a dirty deadpan at Piper for a moment before wailing, "Piper! I can't hear you!" Heh. Piper sighs and wonders what the hell they're supposed to do . Raige, who really should have been scribbling notes all along, finally retrieves her legal pad to scrawl, "KILL MONKEY." Phoebe scans the sign and translates with the utmost seriousness, "[Raige] is proposing violence against the monkey." Hee! I know, I know. It's cheap, and I shouldn't be laughing, but hey. I just made a spanking-the-monkey "joke," so what the hell do you expect?
Phoebe's cell phone vibrates, so she retrieves it. From her crotch. No, I'm not kidding. She glances at the caller ID and immediately tosses the phone at Piper, babbling that Elise is on the line and Piper needs to make up an excuse for why Phoebe can't answer herself, and do you think you could have at least wiped that disgusting thing off before you threw it at your blind sister, you revolting pig? Piper lies to Phoebe's boss as the astonishingly well-built and shirtless Demon Of Color from the pre-credits sequence materializes behind Phoebe. Raige spots him first and frantically bangs on the table. Phoebe turns just as DOC dives through the air, her long-lost power of levitation kicks in, and she ascends to the attic ceiling as DOC plows right past Piper into some boxes. "What is going on over there?" Piper shrieks. "Kazi Demon!" Phoebe yodels. "Gotta go!" Piper snaps into the phone before tossing it over her shoulder. Heh. Piper attempts to deploy the Hands Of Discontent, but she's, you know, BLIND, so Phoebe directs her by screaming, "Twelve o'clock! No, six o'clock!" which only serves to confirm my long-held suspicion that Phoebe's so stupid, she can't even tell time. Piper mistakenly vanquishes Raige's potion table. The force of the explosion flips Raige through the air to the opposite side of the room, where she crumples to the carpet in a heap.
The noise trickles down to the Bridal Boudoir, where the Dolt blurts, "[AC/DC]! Danger!" AC/DC obediently emits his shimmery force field as the Dolt bolts. Crazy Grace slips into the room to make with that cracked menacing thing she does so well.
Attic. Piper, physically forced into position by Phoebe, unleashes another round of the Hands. While they "[kill] Aunt Pearl's couch," they also manage to knock DOC to the floor. Phoebe stupidly wanders over to examine him, only to end up with her empty head clenched between DOC's wicked mojo mitts. The Dolt scampers in just in time to hurl one of Raige's stun vials at DOC's feet. DOC drops to his knees before planting his face in the floorboards.
Meanwhile, Crazy Grace croons Raige's lullaby using Raige's voice. It's not a straightforward lip-synch, by the way, as they've overlaid Rose McGowan's voice atop Grace Zabriskie's. The better to creep me the hell out, I suppose. AC/DC flails his adorable little arms and legs around and yawns.
Upstairs, the Dolt applies the tingly touch to Raige's battered skull as Phoebe uses the Mystical Crysticals to ensnare DOC. Those that can notice the lullaby drifting up from the floor below. Action Dolt leaps to his feet and plows out of the attic.
"If you let this force field down," croons Crazy Grace, "you'll be the best little baby in town." Ha! I love the Crazy Grace. AC/DC drops his guard just as the Dolt screams into the Boudoir. Crazy Grace, irked, slams his intrusive ass into the wall with a bit of blazing telekinesis. Pause. Rewind. Play. Pause. Rewind. Play. Pause. Rewind. Slow-forward. The shimmery force field immediately reforms around AC/DC's bassinet. Crazy Grace rolls her eyes and picks her way over to the Dolt's prone form. "You'll pay for that," she spits, before latching onto one of his arms and raying away from the Manor. The Glamorous Ladies race in to find AC/DC, but no Doltage. "[Dolt]!" Piper shouts. "Why isn't he answering us?" AC/DC horks us into the commercial break.
Crazy Grace's Bar And Grill. Kazaa is still being a pain in the ass, but Crazy Grace has sealed the Dolt in a giant brine-filled aquarium. So, you know, she's managed to shut him up at least. By the way, I'm assuming the Dolt can't orb out of the tank for some reason. Otherwise, he's stupider than I thought, and I just can't imagine anything that dumb. Crazy Grace tells Kazaa to zip it so she can eavesdrop on the goings-on at the Manor. She raises the Petrified Marcel to her ear, and the "Hear No" monkey glows.
Attic. As the Glamorous Ladies tidy things up, they realize that they're developing telepathic abilities. No, seriously. Raige writes something on her pad, Phoebe reads it silently, and Piper instantly visualizes the words in her mind. I'm sure this will become important later, but for now, let's just keep things moving. Piper gropes her way back down to the Bridal Boudoir with either Quasimodo or Wyatt-San, leaving Phoebe and Raige to interrogate DOC. Raige scribbles "WHERE IS OUR WHITELIGHTER?" onto the legal pad and pushes it into DOC's face. Because this, apparently, makes much more sense than HAVING THE ONE WHO CAN TALK ASK THE GODDAMN QUESTIONS. No matter, for the doorbell rings. Raige takes one look out the window and freaks. There's a Ratbag on the porch! She pushes Phoebe downstairs to get rid of him.
Foyer. Phoebe gets rid of the Ratbag. There's a lot of shouting and failed lip-reading of abject apologies and whatnot, but that's pretty much all that happens.
Back in the attic, Raige has tortured DOC to his knees, but he's still not talking. Phoebe, of all people, realizes that DOC can't read. Yes, the Demon Of Color is illiterate. I'm not even going to touch that one. Feel free to scream about it on the boards, if you like. Phoebe quizzes the Illiterate Demon Of Color on the Dolt's whereabouts. IDOC honestly doesn't know. Phoebe demands to know who sent IDOC to the Manor. He stonewalls until Raige threatens him with another potion vial. "[Crazy Grace]," IDOC finally admits. Phoebe sends Raige to abuse the Book while she continues with the third degree. What does Crazy Grace want? Crazy Grace'll kill IDOC if he answers that question. Phoebe smashes another vial against IDOC's rock-hard abs.
Crazy Grace's Bar And Grill. Kazaa, due to his physical connection to his minions, howls and wails all, "I feel his pain! He needs my help!" "He needs a muzzle," Crazy Grace sneers. Woo! After way too much of Kazaa's irritating babbling, Crazy Grace flips him the bird, and he explodes into flame under the watchful eye of the briny Dolt. What? No, seriously. Fire shot out of Crazy Grace's middle finger. Hey, I warned Kazaa not to fuck with her, didn't I?
Up in the attic, IDOC explodes in unison with Kazaa. Phoebe, startled by this unexpected turn of events, scuttles over to Raige and asks if the Book contains a vanquish for Crazy Grace. It does. It also contains an entire entry detailing Crazy Grace's history, but stupid Raige blocks most of the text with her hand, so you'll all have to live without a transcription. Phoebe and Raige exit to prepare the Crazy Grace potion.
Bridal Boudoir. Over on the bed, Piper cradles Quasimodo, rocking Nature's Hideous Mistake gently in her arms. Crazy Grace rays in and, using Raige's purloined voice, lies that the Dolt has returned with the Petrified Marcel. She convinces Piper to leave The Precious Done One Log alone with her. Piper eases AC/DC into his bassinet and crosses to the door, rather expertly for one who has so recently lost her vision. As she passes Crazy Grace, however, she sniffs at the air suspiciously and asks, "What's that smell?" "Burnt Kazi Demon flesh," Crazy Grace replies mildly. "We had to vanquish the minion." Piper buys it and proceeds into the hallway. Wyatt-San whines and throws up his force field. Crazy Grace croons a couple of the lullaby's lines before vanishing into the final commercial break.
Kitchen. Piper, expecting the Dolt, feels her way into the room and orders him to restore her sight. Phoebe and Raige figure out what's going on and hustle to Piper's side. Raige takes Piper's hands in her own and spells out a word. "WAWA?" Piper bleats. Raige places Piper's palm against her face and nods vehemently while Phoebe excitedly shrieks, "Yes, Piper! Yes!" The gals hustle upstairs to rescue the imperiled shape-shifting infant from Crazy Grace's foul clutches.
Like I was going to let this episode slide by without a Helen Keller reference.
Up in the Boudoir, Crazy Grace has convinced AC/DC she's really his Aunt Raige. He agreeably drops the force field so Crazy Grace can lift him from the bassinet. When Piper, Phoebe, and the real Raige skitter into the room, Crazy Grace cries, "[AC/DC]! Help! Danger!" AC/DC's force field shoots out from his tiny left fist to encase both himself and the wizened nutjob. As Crazy Grace begins scanning The Done One's future, Raige tries to summon the kid with her orbing telekinesis. Realizing that Raige can't access her power without her voice, Piper and Phoebe grab her arms and shout the Percolated Infant's name. AC/DC immediately orbs away from Crazy Grace to rematerialize as The Precious Done One Log in Raige's arms. Crazy Grace turns to face them, and -- wow. If you thought she was insane before The Log fried every remaining synapse in the scattered ruins of her brain, you should see her now. "I've seen everything!" Crazy Grace drools ecstatically. "Such power!" Piper makes a quippy remark while Phoebe slings the vanquish. Crazy Grace dissolves in a veil of fire while I shoot daggers from my eyes at the moron who came up with the terrific idea of toasting Grace Zabriskie so soon. No, I don't know who I'm looking at. I'm just glaring into space. Leave me alone.
With the vanquishing of Crazy Grace comes the restoration of Piper's sight, Phoebe's hearing, and Raige's voice. Piper gathers AC/DC up in her arms, and after a bit of worried chatter about the Dolt, The Precious Done One Log orbs Mom away from the Manor. "My nephew is a genius!" Phoebe gloats before adding, "Takes after me." Raige's expression says it for me: Cram it, hag.
Crazy Grace's Bar And Grill. Quasimodo orbs Piper into the center of the room, where she spots the Dolt in his briny cage. She flings out an irritated Hand, and the glass shatters outwards, unleashing her husband. Along with several hundred gallons of water. Oddly enough, despite his time submerged in the tank, the Dolt remains dry from the waist down. Piper squats to the Dolt to process through some issues, specifically her newfound telepathic connection to Phoebe and Raige (which the Dolt insists was there all along) and Wyatt-San's precocious orbing abilities. Wyatt-San and the Dolt grin at each other before the Dolt orbs back to the Manor with Piper and Quasimodo.
Later that evening, Phoebe and Piper settle onto the sun porch's wicker loveseat for a chat. Phoebe announces that, given the choice between a nationally syndicated advice column and her family, she's choosing her family. She intends to inform Chronic of her decision as soon as he returns to San Francisco. And that's…it. Really. So much for that pointless subplot.
Ratbag Lounge. Raige, rather stunning in a black sheath accented with silver beaded straps at her shoulders and elbows, her hair swept back from her face with a few low-key pieces of jewelry dangling from her ears and her wrist, stands at the microphone, dedicating the song she's about to sing to her latest slampiece. She really looks good. She doesn't sound too good once she starts "singing" Peggy Lee's "Fever," especially when the editors cut out the bit with the key change, and someone really needed to teach Rose McGowan proper lip-synching techniques before they shot this scene, and Rose, honey, whoever choreographed those wildly random gesticulations and fluttery hands of yours should be taken out and shot, because there is such a thing as overselling a song, and you're doing it now, but where was I? Oh, yeah. She really looks good. Slampiece Ratbag smiles quietly to himself at the bar as Raige croons us into the closing credits.
Couch Baron: "Fever"?
Demian: Don't look at me, dude. I think it's a horrible choice for her.
Couch Baron: And you would have recommended…what, exactly? "The Slampiece That Got Away"?
Demian: You've been reading the spoilers, haven't you?
Couch Baron: That's beside the point. I just know you'd go for the Judy.
Demian: Not necessarily. "Ratbag To Watch Over Me" would have been a lovely way to close the evening.
Couch Baron: Whatever. Hey, speaking of spoilers, isn't this where you'd normally preview the episode?
Demian: Yeah, I would, but the fucking promo tells you nothing about what happens.
Couch Baron: Well, Phoebe was running across that tarmac like a very special Special Olympian.
Demian: But she does that every week.
Couch Baron: Point taken. So, you got nothing?
Demian: Eh, you might want to stock up on pâté, if you know what I mean.
Couch Baron: Dammit. I hate liver.
Demian: Stow it, Zipper Hip. Heh.
Couch Baron: Bitch.