Props to Steve Bartman. Not. Douche.
Fade up on the Manor exterior, and -- oh, hell. They've decided to rely on wacky transition shots this evening, apparently in deference to the wacky blondes of the title. The camera lingers for a second on the façade before racing up the stairs from the sidewalk, accompanied by whooshing noises. This should suck. Up in the attic, the three hatefully attired Ps enter gasping and slam shut the door behind them. I already suspect there will be morphing hijinks aplenty this evening, as these outfits are quite simply appalling, even for such notorious repeat offenders as Raige and Phoebe. Raige is squeezed into a pink bustier with ruffly trim over a crotch-grazing denim micro-mini and bare legs, while the Feebs sports gartered fishnets under a black patent pleather skirt and strappy tank, with some sort of bizarre pink sash running from her left Fun Bag down to her waist. Their elder sister's a bit more sedate, but as she's edging into Cell Block territory herself, I think it's safe to assume these are not the real Ps. In fact, I think it's safe to assume these are the titular blondes, and as I already know that said blondes' names all start with M, I'll make this easy on everyone and rename these impostors appropriately. "It's okay," Miper assures the others. "You're going to be okay." "That demon wiped out that whole family of innocents," Moebe protests. "How am I ever going to be okay?" "You'll learn," Miper sagely advises. As they cross to a nearby divan, an overly sibilant Maige asserts, "If that demon is anywhere in that Book, I'll nail hisss sssorry assss." "Oh! Those poor children!" Moebe sighs, collapsing onto the sofa in empathic agony. "They were so scared! I could feel their pain!" I know you're not the real Phoebe, but zip it, git. You don't know what pain is until you watch the Florida fucking Marlins send their entire fucking team around the bases at the top of the goddamned eighth inning. Seriously, what the hell was that? I'll tell you what that was: It was the fucking Cubs fucking choking like they choked in '32 and '45 and '69 and '84 and '89 and '98 and every single fucking season in between. You feel pain? My ass you feel pain. Bitch.
There's some pointless gibbering about Moebe's stupid new power before Miper proposes some "sisterly bonding," offering to fetch some relaxing tea. Well, at least the impostor knows Piper's a drudge. Gotta give her points for that one. Maige vehemently disagrees with the bonding proposal. "Did you sssee that demon?" she squeals. "Did you sssee thossse teeth flying out like razor bladesss?" "We need to kill that demon," Moebe nods, before solemnly adding, "for the children. All six of those children." Miper purses her lips and agrees to "hit the Book now." She strides purposefully over to the stand, then tentatively reaches for the Book of Shadows. The Book instantly flares up and snaps shut. Maige and Moebe wince. Miper reaches again, and this time the Book flares and leaps from its perch to the floor. Miper glares, steps around the stand, tries to fake the Book out by edging towards Maige and Moebe, and then dives for the thing. The Book flares one last time and zips off out of the frame. "I told you it wouldn't work!" Miper bitches from the floorboards.
"It's her fault," Moebe characteristically insists, indicating Maige. "Who ever heard of a demon with flying razor teeth before?" "I'm not the one who made the innocents into the Von Trapp family," Maige snots back. Miper orders them to can it before morphing out into Cleopatra 2525's Jennifer Sky. "We can look like the Charmed Ones," she pouts, "but let's face it -- our acting sucks." Honey, I never watched your other show, but I can tell from that one line that you're speaking truth. "If we want the Book of Shadows," Jennifer continues, "we have to become them. It's time to try my identity theft spell." "No. Way!" Moebe sings, morphing out into the infamous Jenny McCarthy as Maige morphs into, um, a Mighty Morphin' Power Ranger, actually. Melody Perkins, to be specific about the whole thing. I gather she was the pink one. "They'll come after us," Jenny duhs. "It's a suicide mission." "And it'sss dangerousss," Melody dimly and breathily warns. Yes, Melody Perkins is fond of her esses. Melody Perkins is also an airhead. Just guessing on the last one. Props to Rose McGowan, in any event, for mocking both traits in her line deliveries up to this point.
Anyway, Jennifer asks the others if they "want to be chiselers" the rest of their lives, and asserts that now's the time for them to "think big." This evening's dastardly plan is rather succinctly laid out in the ensuing dialogue: These three "bad" sisters will steal the Book, use it to abscond with the Glamorous Ladies' powers, and then "form [their] own Power of Three." The bleach blonde "actresses" giggle. I think it was supposed to be an evil giggle, but it actually came across as empty-headed. Shocking, I realize, given the caliber of tonight's guest stars. From below, Piper calls, wondering if Phoebe and Raige are in the attic. Jenny, Jennifer, and Melody whip out tiny atomizers -- from their ass cracks, apparently, because none of these ladies is carrying a purse -- and mist Parfum Mojo about their faces and necks. Each woman fades into black and white before blurrily dematerializing.
Piper enters the moment the others have disappeared, clad in a familiarly demure long-sleeved white blouse over flared jeans. She crosses to the abandoned Book on the floor and hoists it over to its stand, suspiciously eyeing the room the entire time. Her last cautious glance accompanies us as we flare up and leap into the opening credits.
And in a cleansing burst of synchronicity, special guest Jenny McCarthy has a new movie premiering this week! What are the odds?
A hyper-speed opening travelogue whisks us through city traffic to dump us on the gangway leading into P3. Down in the deserted bar area, Piper checks in with Tiny Gay Chris's nanny via the cordless. When she hangs up, she warns her new bartender that some band is expected shortly for a sound check, but she'll be back at the Manor, as she wants to be home when Tiny Chris wakes from his nap. "Jack" is all, "I'm on it, Boss Lady." Jack is also all of twelve years old. Seriously. Dude's an infant. I think Tiny Chris actually has a few years on him. The actor, by the way, played a character whose name I don't recognize in that fabulous watery noir, The Deep End. Lukacytes are certain to recognize the title, but I think it rules because of Tilda Swinton's stunning performance as the mom. She was robbed when Oscar time arrived and left with no nomination for her. Trust me on this one. And who'd they give it to instead? Halle Berry? Whatever. You can bet your ass Tilda Swinton would never flee the scene of an accident. Twice.
Anywho, Phoebe bubbles into the bar, togged in a shockingly prim dove-grey top. Well, yeah, the V-neck's plunging down into the middle of the Fun Bags, and it's fairly tight, but it's long-sleeved and otherwise concealing, so it's shockingly prim for her. Phoebe's arrived to take Piper to lunch, but Piper proposes they head to the Manor for some home cooking instead. Phoebe whines that Piper needs some "grown-up time" away from Tiny Gay Chris, which is why they hired the nanny in the first place, right? Piper rolls her eyes, but agrees. Phoebe's Fucking Backup Band then kicks in, and she moans orgasmically while eyeing the preadolescent bartender. I fully expect her to announce that Jack wants to do her, so I'm shocked when Phoebe stage-whispers, "Piper! That new bartender guy is checking you out!" Piper incredulously glances over her shoulder at the twelve-year-old, who grins. Piper wigs and stage-whispers back, "Are you telling me that you're feeling what he's feeling for me? That's creepy." Indeed. I'll one-up you and call it inappropriate. And I've just had a sudden, awful premonition we'll be catching some vile girl-on-girl action from the Feebs at some point this season. Let's just hope it's not this evening with Jenny McCarthy, because that? Would send me screaming into the street in the futile hope I'll end up decorating the windshield of a bus. Futile because, of course, there's never a damn bus around when you really need one.
So, Phoebe sends the infant bartender to cool his heels elsewhere so she can bellyache about Chronic without channeling Jack's lust for his boss. See what they did there? Don't worry. I'm sure it slipped past them, too. Seems Chronic's winging back from Hong Kong yet again to bone the hapless Feebs, and she doesn't know what to do. With her stupid new power behaving so unpredictably, she's worried they'll spend the entire weekend in bed. Because Chronic's sole purpose on earth is to fuck Phoebe Halliwell. God, I hate her. Piper thinks Phoebe should escort Chronic to a highly public venue such as a restaurant, to discuss the nature of their relationship in a place where they can't "get buck wild." Oh, I'm sure Phoebe'd find a way to screw Chronic in a restaurant, Piper. Hell, Samantha Jones -- herself not the brightest bulb on the television tree -- did her boy toy against a glass rack at a purse party. I'm sure Phoebe will think of something, should Chronic's mood strike her. Heh. "Think." Sometimes I crack myself up.
In any event, Phoebe sort-of agrees with Piper's plan as they link arms to head up the stairs. Big Gay Chris orbs onto the landing, eliciting an immediate and dead-serious, "No!" from both ladies. Big Gay Chris looks miffed. Aw. Come to Demian, Big Gay Chris. I'll make it all better. Okay, fine. Recap. Gotcha. The ladies insist they're heading to lunch, and Big Agreeable Chris says that's perfectly fine with him. "We can hunt demons after lunch!" The ladies who insist upon lunching roll their eyes. Big Shifty Chris slyly switches gears and too-casually wonders if either of the gals has seen the Dolt lately, as there's a rumor wafting through Whitelighterland to the effect that the Dolt knows who banished him to the Isle of Dykes. Neither Piper nor Phoebe has enjoyed the pleasure of the Dolt's company as of late, and besides, Piper has a more pressing concern. "Did either of you leave the Book on the floor last night?" she asks. Nope, says Hubby and the dimwit, but Big Vaguely-Familiar-With-This Chris notes that he remembers a story about the Book and the floor and whatnot, though he's not too certain of the details. The audience is meant to wonder if this is because his Tiny Self is barely cognizant of his surroundings at this point in his life. The audience is not, however, to wonder why Chris would remember anything about tonight's events in the first place, given that Raige died five months ago in his original timeline, eliminating the Power of Three and taking with her any justification for the titular blondes' designs on the Glamorous Ladies' identities. Stupid writers. In spite of this gaping plot hole, Big Correctly-Cautious Chris advises Piper and Phoebe to "take this threat seriously, and tell [Raige]." And where is Raige, exactly? Why, at one of her contrived and tedious temp jobs, of course! Big Dismissive Chris thinks she's wasting her time, but his mom and his aunt remind him Raige is on a "quest for happiness outside of magic." They breeze past him to ascend the stairs. Trailing after them, Big Incredulous Chris snorts, "Who finds happiness at a temp job?"
Raige, apparently, for the shot is of her perkily packing boxes of fruit at North Shore Citrus, and man, she's signed with a fucked-up temp agency. It'd be like Loftus & O'Meara sending me to the now-defunct downtown Oscar Mayer plant back in the day as, like, a wiener stuffer. In other words, I'm not buying it. Any of it. Raige seems blithely unconcerned with my rantings as she overreaches for a specific orange. Raige is do-ragged. Just tossing that out there. Raige's coworker, whom I'm calling Maria Mon-tez! because I'm having a Myra Breckinridge moment, instructs her to straighten her back, then proceeds to bitch about herniated disks. Raige nods her head and smiles until she spots two fleet-footed Smurfs racing around on the walls. No, seriously. There are two tiny blue men CGI'd into the scene, and one of them pushes a stack of crates in Maria Mon-tez!'s general direction. "Look out!" Raige screams, throwing herself bodily across the lemon-laden conveyer belt to knock Maria Mon-tez! to the ground, just as the crates crash heavily into the floor. The Smurfs cackle maliciously. Boss-Man Of The Week storms in to shut everything down for a safety inspection. "This place is maldito," Maria Mon-tez! darkly warns, overdoing by several significant degrees both her accent and the general sense of foreboding. "Cursed!" she adds, for the benefit of those unfamiliar with the wetback lingo. "I think I'm maldito," Raige mopes, glaring at the Smurfs. The Smurfs titter and speed off...
...dragging the frame with them so we wipe over to Halliwell Manor. See what I mean with the wacky transitions? I hate this show. Directly across the street, Jennifer Sky peers through lace curtains to sneer at the Manor. The titular blondes appear to be ensconced in Manse Morphing from the first season. Appropriate, no? Of course, they've slaughtered the current occupants, who presumably bought the place after the slaughter of its occupants, so I'm thinking the Manse's location is not what you'd call ideal. I do wonder, though, how many of the Glamorous Ladies' neighbors have died because of their proximity to the Manor. I'm guessing the house to their right's had enormous and quick turnover, because no one seems to stick around long enough to, oh, paint the fucking thing already. Pity Greasy Dan never met with a foul end, though, isn't it?
Sorry, I'm rambling. Episodes as bad as this one have that effect on me. Jennifer Sky turns to head back into the Manse parlor for some exposition. The titular blondes intend to distribute the Ps' powers amongst themselves according to birth order, so Jennifer will get Piper's molecular manipulation, the Power Ranger should find herself with Raige's orbing and telekinesis, and Jenny McCarthy shall receive Phoebe's assortment of useless abilities. In order for the initial identity-stealing phase of the plan to work, however, all three Glamorous Ladies must be present across the street. To learn who's currently occupying the Manor, Jennifer dumps a can of black goo into a "scrying bowl," and recites the following:
Give me sight through the blackest bile:
Show me the faces I revile
The goo presently shimmers to reveal an image of Piper on the sun porch, spoon-feeding Tiny Gay Chris. "Ew. She's with the baby," Jenny sneers while shoving a banana into her mouth, and before you ask, yes, Brad Kern has seen to it that this banana will not be the last phallic object to part Jenny McCarthy's lips this evening. Referring to Tiny Chris, Jenny adds, "I can't wait to orb that thing into a volcano." The Power Ranger reminds Jenny that she herself will be doing the orbing, thanks very much, as they'll be getting their powers by "sorority." "That's 'seniority,' Margo," Jenny snits, before bitching about not receiving Raige's orbing. "There's nothing wrong with Phoebe's powers, Mitzy," Jennifer sighs, exasperated. "You'll be able to levitate." "Shyeah," Mitzy snaps. "Six feet in the air." Heh. If that, honey. "You'll also have the powers of premonition and empathy," Jennifer offers. "Like I care what happens to people or how they feel," Mitzy duhs. Hee! The Feebs never gave a rat's ass, either, so the switch seems pretty spot-on from where I'm sitting. "Maybe you should care," Margo needles, "instead of this me-me-me attitude all of the time." HA! It's like the production staff lifted viewer sentiment about Phoebe directly from our boards and dropped it whole into the script. Of course, that sentiment ended up in the mouths of a trio of evil bleached bimbos, so the production staff still needs to rot in Hell, but how did this script get past La Milano?
Anyway, there's some tiresome business with a door-to-door vacuum salesman, in which said salesman invades Manse Morphing for a product demo and takes a Jennifer-conjured dagger to the chest for his troubles. Whatever. I mention it only because his corpse becomes a plot point later. The take-away from this scene, aside from proper character names for two of the titular blondes, is the following speech from the as-yet-unemmed Sky: "This is the biggest con of our lives. If we don't get this right, we'll be two-bit magic hustlers forever. The secret of the Charmed Ones lies in their sisterhood -- the Power of Three. Well, guess what? We have our own sisterhood, our own Power of Three, right here. If we can just stick together, we can have it all." Of course, that last line will swing around to bite them all on their collective ass before evening's end. In the meantime, the Ms plus Jennifer head over to the goo bowl to await Phoebe and Raige's return. The camera pans in on the image of Piper and Tiny Gay Chris...
...which flares out to fill the screen. Piper tries to get Tiny Gay Chris to accept the offered baby food, but Tiny Chris is all, "You're not putting that crap anywhere near my mouth, Ma." Piper, desperate, says, "Look! Mommy try it!" and places a tiny amount of the foul puree on her tongue. Holly then amuses me to no end with, "Mmm! It's so...horrible! WOW, is that horrible!" Heh. The Dolt orbs in looking for Big Absent Chris, but he's content to make horrific baboon faces at Tiny Chris instead. No wonder my husband grew up to be so warped. But I love him anyway. Piper relays Big Gossipy Chris's mention of the Valhalla rumor wafting through Whitelighterland, which would intrigue the Dolt had he any brain of which to speak. There's also a bit of mild bitchery along last week's lines of, "How can I miss you when you never, ever GO AWAY!" until Raige bellows from the front door. The Dolt beats a hasty, orbing retreat. Tiny Chris immediately pitches a red-faced fit in his upholstered high chair. While Chris howls, Raige fills Piper in on the Smurfs, then heads upstairs to abuse the Book of Shadows. As Raige leaves, Freaky Tiny Iguana Woman bustles in from the kitchen with Tiny Gay Chris's upholstered, space-age stroller. Christ. The money they must have spent on this brat. Um. And it was worth every penny, because my Chris is a wonderful man. Anyway, Iguana Woman prepares to wheel Tiny Chris out for some fresh air. Piper reminds Iguana Woman to cover up her pointy ears. T'Midget does so. Scene.
The Bay Mi...Fuck ME. There's an enormous poster on the wall of Feebs sagely gazing from her laptop, with the slogan "ASK PHOEBE" in the upper left corner. She seems to be sporting a pink Members Only jacket. Asshole. ANY-way. Phoebe motors around the corner to enter the office proper with Elise Rothman, Girl Editor. Elise vomits up gobbets of praise for Phoebe's work, and I briefly wonder why she's even speaking to the eye-socking bitch before I remember Phoebe's selfish yet granted request to erase all memory of last week's office riot from her coworkers' minds. There's far too much of the groveling-praise bullshit before Elise finally wanders away and Phoebe spots Chronic waiting for her in her office. Oh, hell. Eric Dane's gone and sheared off his mop of gravity-defying hair. He's no longer a hedgehog so much as a refugee from Dachau. Bad follicular strategy, dude. Very, very bad. It looks like somebody waxed his head, then hot-glued a mat of brown velour to his scalp. Ew. Phoebe steels herself to greet him, and eventually strides into her office to offer her hand, which Chronic obediently kisses. , her Fucking Backup Band kicks in, and there follows endless mixed-signals babbling from the Feebs as she fends off Chronic's tumid emotions. Eventually, she convinces him to meet her later that evening for a dinner date. Scene.
Manor. Phoebe tools up in her hideous, boxy new car, and if any of you kind motorheads can provide me with a make and model for this disgusting vehicle, I'd be most appreciative. Because I intend to hit each dealership that offers them to torch every last one of the unsightly things right down to the tire rims. It'll be like the Earth Liberation Front, only for crimes against good taste. Mitzy, Margo, and Jennifer appear in the window across the way, grinning like the fools they are. Pardon me a moment while I settle on appropriate nicknames for these three, partly because Jennifer doesn't receive a proper character name for at least another half hour, but also because they're spelling "Mitzi" wrong, and it's irritating the crap out of me. For reasons that, if not already apparent, will become brutally so by the end of the evening, Sky is now Mange, McCarthy is Midge, and the Power Ranger is Moron. The Mimbos (kudos to newtocharmed1 for that) retreat into the Manse proper to activate the identity theft mojo, but not before Mange spells out exactly how it'll work. Long story short, while she and her sisters will retain their physical forms, the world will know them as Piper, Phoebe, and Raige. So, not as much morphing as I initially thought there would be tonight, as each titular blonde shall remain that way. That is to say, blonde. I mean, they'll also continue to be titular, but that's not really important to the plot. Oh, shut up. The Cubs just lost Game Seven, and I'm feeling a little vulnerable. No, seriously. No. Seriously. Shut the fuck up. Bastards.
Anyway, Mange unfolds a slip of paper, and the three recite the following in unison:
Blinking faces, blank and ho-hum:
We are they and they are no one.
Grant to us the Power of Three,
And turn them into nobody.
What's sort of amusing is that, judging from their intonations, these three read out loud a lot. From necessity, if you know what I mean. Think Jessica Simpson.
"Did it work?" Midge asks. "One way to find out," Mange replies. "Let's call their Whitelighter." Mange does just that. Big Prompt Chris orbs in directly and immediately reads the titular blondes on their distasteful choice of footwear. Heh. That's working on an entirely unintentional level. Then again, I suppose I don't have to tell any of you that. Midge and Moron sidle over to maul him. Big Not-Swinging-That-Way Chris impatiently rolls his eyes and wonders what the hell they're doing in Manse Morphing anyway. Mange indicates the sporked corpse on the carpet, and too-innocently breathes, "Solving a murder." She twists the dagger from the corpse's sucking chest wound, indicates the three-moon engraving on the handle, posits it was fashioned in "the astral plane," and orders Big They-Don't-Make-Daggers-In-The-Astral-Plane-Mom Chris to investigate. Big This-Is-Pointless Chris prepares to do as he's told. Moron simpers, "Can I have a kiss before you go?" Big I-Don't-Do-Girls Chris flatly refuses and orbs up through the ceiling. Hee. Mange grins, "You know what this means?" Midge enthuses, "We are Charmed. And. Dangerous!" The Mimbos pull this bizarre hip-bumping, hand-slapping line dance of triumph to wiggle us out into the commercial break.
The Bay Fuck Me. Midge breezes through the swinging doors and passes a sheaf of yellow legal-pad paper to Elise, claiming it's a last-minute column rewrite for tomorrow's edition. Elise examines the smeared scrawl and asks, "Is this...crayon?" "Eyeliner, actually," Midge airily replies. "I couldn't find a pen." Elise arches a disdainful brow as Chronic ambles in behind the women. He confirms his dinner date with Phoebe, Midge hikes her tongue down his throat in the middle of the office, Feebs's colleagues have the gall to appear surprised at this latest abhorrent display of unprofessional office behavior, and Midge flounces away. And that's it, really. Thrilling, yes? Not.
Manor. Piper takes an urgent call from the club's manager, who's wondering why she fired that evening's band during their afternoon rehearsal. Piper, naturally, hasn't a clue what's going on, so she slams down the phone, blurts some nanny instructions at Raige, and snatches up her keys from the hall table to motor over to P3 in the Grand Cherokee. She doesn't notice that Mange has taken her place beside the Dolt in the occasionally-abused wedding photo now resting on the sideboard. Yeah, like Piper wouldn't have tied all of her tacky marital memorabilia into a sack with a couple of rocks and pitched the damned thing into the Bay after the divorce. Whatever. Over at the sun porch table, Raige is having problems with the Smurf vanquish she's been mixing, so she asks Phoebe to double-check the ingredients in the nearby Book of Shadows. Phoebe reaches for it, only to have it instantly flare up and snap shut in her face. "That's different," she cringes. She tries again, but the Book simply flares once more and leaps to the floor. Raige and Phoebe shoot worried side-eyes at each other for a moment before Phoebe bellows for Big Not-Listening Chris. Of course, there's no response. Both women's cell phones bleep simultaneously with calls from their respective bosses. During the subsequent overlapping conversations, we discover that Moron's leading a workers' rebellion at North Shore Citrus while Midge has advocated both multiple sex partners and oceans of booze to cure depression. And these two things are problems...how, exactly? Phoebe and Raige split up to salvage their "jobs," agreeing to meet back at the Manor as soon as possible. Raige attempts to return the Book to the attic, but the thing flares up one last time and skitters beneath a sofa like a gigantic, nervous, leather-bound cockroach. Heh. Raige pouts.
P3. Piper slumps down the stairs, heaving a beleaguered sigh while wondering if the band's already left. "Ray," the doorman, politely informs the strange, slumpy, beleaguered lady to return later that evening after the club's opened for business. When she insists she's his boss, Ray none-too-kindly recommends the bar up the road if she's as desperately in need of another cocktail as she seems. Piper gets snippy as Mange emerges from the office with the twelve-year-old. They're adjusting their clothes. I think they just did it. Do you think they just did it? 'Cause I'm pretty sure they just did it. Isn't that, like, a felony? Couldn't they sling Mange's Letourneauing ass into prison for fondling a preadolescent bartender like that? Whatever. I think they're about to do it again on the dance floor, but Mange overhears Piper's shrill shrieking and bolts to lock herself in the back room. Back at the stairs, Piper's had enough of Ray-Ray's lip and freezes him, like, way to guard against exposure after last week's hour-long lesson on the subject, you dingbat. To her credit, she unfreezes the doorman as soon as she's wriggled past him, but still. I hate this show. Piper agitates over to the post-coital preadolescent and demands he inform Ray of her identity. The post-coital preadolescent has no idea who this agitated woman is. Piper puckers in disbelief.
Speaking of agitation, Raige orbs onto the main floor of North Shore's packing plant to find Moron leading the wetbacks in a rousing chant of "Equal pay! Shorter days!" The Smurfs cheer everyone on from a discreet location atop a tower of fruit boxes. Boss-Man Of The Week arrives to inform the throng they'll be replaced with scabs if they don't immediately return to "that line." "Oh!" Moron sasses. "You mean a line with unsafe working conditions, no medical benefits, and Third World wages? I. Don't. Think. So." The wetbacks roar their approval of this defiance and resume chanting, led once again by Moron, who swings aloft a "UNION" sign like she's Norma Rae. Raige gasps in horror.
A moment, please. So sorry to hold things up, but I need to ask: What in the hell is going on here? Did some crack-addled editor accidentally delete a vital scene wherein we learn that Moron's colluding with the Mafia to snatch control of the fruit-packers' union from the desperate immigrants on the factory floor? Or is Charmed actually making a statement against unionization, against safe factory conditions, against equal access to health care, and against decent wages for workers by linking all of those goals to dark demonic forces sent from the flaming maw of Hell? The fuck? THE FUCK? Excuse the holy living crap out of me, but weren't the very writers and actors responsible for this shit willing to sabotage the entire television season two years ago over a contract dispute with the studios? And weren't the members of the various craft unions -- the very same people who constructed, decorated, costumed, lit, miked, and shot this scene -- ready to walk the picket lines with them? Again: What the FUCK is going on here?
JESUS!
ANY-way, a security guard approaches Raige, demanding identification. She pulls out her North Shore employee card to discover Moron's photo where hers should be. The security guard glares and yanks her out of the frame.
And in the very shot, the three titular blondes enter the Manor through the front doors, which would only make sense if Moron genetically engineered her own identical twin, implanted said identical twin's embryo in a surrogate mother, waited nine months for the delivery, waited another twenty-nine years for the twin to reach the appropriate age, and deployed the twin to lead the action at the packing plant SINCE THE LAST COMMERCIAL BREAK. THIS SHOW SUCKS!
GOD!
The Mimbos split up to search for the Book, but Big Interrupting Chris calls out from the parlor, busting them for his recent "wild goose chase" through the astral plane. Mange silently conjures a dagger behind her back to slice him, like, knives don't kill Whitelighters, shithead, and do something about those fucking roots before I reach into the television set and rip your hideous fucking hair out of your hideous fucking head, but whatever. She wordlessly dissolves the dagger the instant Big Self-Effacing Chris defuses the situation by admitting that perhaps he has been working them too hard. Or something. This episode, iffy to begin with, has suddenly veered straight into The Sucking Vortex Of Massive And Eternal Badness, and I find myself not really caring what happens to any of these goddamned idiots anymore. Midge hooches over to nuzzle her girl cooties into Big Revolted Chris's chest. Big Bursting-With-Contempt Chris pushes her away to snort, "I know Piper hooked up with her last Whitelighter, but I'm really -- really -- not interested. 'Kay?" We're meant to interpret this as yet another indication that he's The Done One all growed up, and yet we insist on interpreting this as yet another indication that he has sex with men. Big Get-Me-The-Hell-Out-Of-Here Chris agrees to leave them alone to investigate the death of a salesman over at Manse Morphing, and orbs out. The titular blondes scatter to search for the Book after Mange issues this stern edict: "From now on? Keep your hands off the Whitelighter. That's an order." See? Even Mange knows he's gay. What's Midge's problem?
Montage Of Booting. Then, after I've finished violently expelling several vital organs through my nose and mouth in a series of cleverly intercut shots, we return to this evening's episode for the following:
P3. Ray-Ray flings Holly Marie Combs's stunt double into a rather acrobatic somersault down the gangway, the stunt double's face artfully concealed by a long brown wig. Holly herself pants from the concrete as Ray-Ray slams the door.
North Shore Citrus. The security guard flings Rose McGowan's stunt double into a rather acrobatic cartwheel down the sidewalk, the stunt double's face barely concealed by an ill-fitting auburn wig. Rose herself pants from the concrete as the security guard slams the chain-link gate.
The Fuck Me Tribune. A really hot extra flings Alyssa Milano's stunt double into a rather clumsy tumble through the swinging glass doors, the stunt double's face digitally blurred out because La Milano just had to go and get that fucking dykey haircut over the hiatus. Alyssa herself pants from the carpet as the really hot extra evidently vanishes into thin air, because you really can't slam swinging doors shut. Not even if you're a really hot extra. La Milano then gasps in shock and dismay when she spots Jenny McCarthy's face superimposed atop the Fun Bags on that hateful ASK PHOEBE poster in the hall. La Milano's all, "Bitch! My MOM paid for those implants!"
Manor. The titular blondes have found the Book of Shadows, and frantically riffle through to find the spell they need while perched on the center-parlor sofa. Raige orbs into the hallway behind them with Piper and the Feebs, all three spoiling for a smackdown. The Mimbos hop to their feet, and the six women snipe at each other until the blondes, reading from the Book, recite the following in unison:
Powers of the witches rise,
Course unseen across the skies,
Come to us who call you near,
Come to us and settle here.
During the recitation, Piper attempts to freeze them, but she's lost her abilities by the end of the spell's first line. Bright white fairy lights stream out of the Glamorous Ladies' bodies, traverse the short distance to the center parlor, and settle into the titular blondes. So much for that coursing-unseen stuff, fellas, huh? Even the bright white fairy lights on this show suck. Mange tosses out a hand to freeze the now-powerless Ps. Unfortunately, it's actually a Hand Of Discontent, and it vanquishes a table full of Grams's priceless antiques. The force of the explosion sends Piper flying against the stairwell wall, where she crashes to the floor. There's a quick shot of dyed Caro syrup "oozing" through the leg of her pants before La Milano's stunt double hurtles over the sofa to plant a stiletto in Jennifer Sky's stunt double's stomach. Jennifer Sky's stunt double whips backwards through the air to vanquish a lamp with her derriere. Midge levitates precisely five feet into the air -- heh -- to land a vicious kick on Phoebe's face. Phoebe flies back over the sofa to crumple near Piper's side in the hallway. Pause. Rewind. Play. Pause. Rewind. Play. Pause. Rewind. Slow-forward. Moron swings a wrought-iron lamp at Raige, but Raige instinctively orbs out in place, so the lamp just smashes into the wall. "Hey!" Moron snits. "That was supposed to be my power!" The battered Glamorous Ladies scramble into a huddle, and Raige orbs them out into the commercial break.
Attic. More exposition, Mimbo-style, and little of it's entertaining, so I'll try to make this quick. Moron's wicked pissed because she's been left powerless. Raige's orbing abilities came from her Whitelighter side, you'll recall, and the spell specified "powers of the witches." Of course, this means Moron should have plain old fling-shit-around telekinesis, but no one ever addresses that particular bit of logic, so let's all wave goodbye as it disappears forever into The Sucking Vortex Of Massive And Eternal Badness along with the rest of this fucking episode. In any event, Moron's anger's giving freshly-empathic Midge a migraine. Mange exhorts them to focus on the matter at hand, which is locating and killing the Glamorous Ladies before the Dolt figures out what's going on. Given the Dolt's negligible brainpower, the Mimbos should have years to take care of the gals. Mange's resolve evaporates, though, when she discovers the titular blondes' entry in the Book of Shadows. Moron and Midge crowd around as Mange reads, "The Stillman Sisters: Mabel, Mitzy, and Margo. Common witches known for their small-time hustles and cons. Not worth vanquishing. If they become a nuisance, try a simple spell to bind their magic." This dismissive account of their accomplishments sets the blondes to pouting until Mange reminds her sisters, "We got their powers, we got their Book, and we got...blonde, multi-tonal hair! Who's the nuisance now?" "We are!" Moron giggles. "Oh, yeah!" Midge grunts. Far below, the doorbell rings. Mange sends Midge off on Phoebe's dinner date "to keep up pretenses," while she and Moron hang back in the attic to work on spells.
The Paradise Motel. Well, that's what this flophouse's neon sign claims, at any rate. Inside, Raige and Phoebe stagger into a seedy room with the battered Piper, whom they ease onto the bed. While Phoebe applies gauze to the gash on Piper's shin, the gals formulate a plan of attack that involves Raige orbing off to North Shore Citrus to enlist the aid of the Smurfs while Phoebe hustles elsewhere to "issue a personal invitation" of her own. Piper's to remain at the motel to recuperate the best she can. And Tiny Gay Chris? The ladies reason that he'll be safe enough at the Manor as long as they themselves are alive, as the Mimbos can't risk exposure at this point in their dastardly plan. Just go with it, because after that hideous second act, I don't think I have the strength to argue anymore.
Oh, shit. I'd forgotten about this scene. Sigh. Phoebe slinks through a crowded and tony eatery to crouch behind a potted plant. Feel free to insert your own joke about difficult it is to distinguish between the two. From Phoebe's vantage point, she's able to eavesdrop on the uncomfortable and embarrassing dinner date Chronic's having with Midge. And by that, I mean "uncomfortable and embarrassing for the audience." Chronic presents Midge with an expensive diamond necklace. To show her appreciation, Midge dives beneath the tablecloth to give him a blowjob. No, seriously. No. SERIOUSLY. Jenny McCarthy gets down on her knees to go down on Eric Dane. She even wipes the sides of her mouth when she reemerges after many excruciating seconds. Fuck it. I can't deal with this shit anymore. Fast-forward. Fast-forward. Oh, look! Phoebe bounds across the restaurant to wallop Jenny McCarthy in the teeth! Were it not for the pesky premonition Phoebe slams into Midge's jaw, this would have made for an eminently rewindable moment. Through a murky, sepia-tinged lens, we see the much-abused grandfather clock chime midnight as Piper, Phoebe, and Raige pose prettily for close-ups on the sun porch. "Personal invitation" thus delivered, Phoebe leaves.
North Shore Citrus. The Flatulent Oboe Of Wacky Wiccan Hijinks makes its triumphant return to the small screen, and this episode can suck my ass. Oh, wait. IT ALREADY IS. Raige threatens to vanquish the Smurfs unless they find her big gay nephew. We're led to believe the Smurfs acquiesce to Raige's demands.
Bridal Boudoir Of Underage Fornication And Sin. Mange barges into the darkened room with the twelve-year-old and proceeds to Geoghan his ass all over the bed. The Dolt harrumphs from the depths of a wicker rocker in the shadows by the window, where he's having some quality time with Tiny Gay Chris. The twelve-year-old apologetically bails, but the Dolt gets pissy anyway. Mange blames her purportedly odd behavior on "post-partum" depression, and begs the Dolt to take Tiny Chris "off [her] hands for a while" until she gets her act together. The stupid Dolt buys it and orbs upwards with Tiny Chris, who's been rather amusingly pointing an accusatory finger at his supposedly slutty mom through much of this scene. Mange smirks in something meant to approximate triumphant wickedness until Midge lopes in with the bad premonition news.
Down in the main hallway, the grandfather clock chimes midnight as Raige orbs onto the sun porch with Piper and Phoebe. The gals move to enter the Manor proper, but the various doors on the porch slide and slam shut, trapping them. The titular blondes swivel in from the dining room, and dear Lord. Once more with the shrewish sniping. Saving me from this hormonal hell is Big Befuddled Chris, who orbs in with, "You wouldn't happen to know any [Smurfs], would you?" The Glamorous Ladies immediately and stridently plead their case, with Piper reminding him of his vague, Book-related warning to her that morning. Piper almost has him convinced when Mange challenges Piper to prove her identity by deploying her Hands Of Discontent. Piper, of course, can't, so Raige steps forward to make with the orbing, hoping this will convince Big Slow-On-The-Uptake Chris who the true Glamorous Ladies are. Naturally -- naturally -- Raige can't orb because Moron recited an "anti-orb spell." Which we didn't hear. Nor do we learn how both Raige and Big Elusive Chris orbed onto the sun porch despite the spell's effects. Because this episode sucks. Big I'm-Over-This-Crap Chris eyes Raige's constipated non-orbing demeanor for a moment, then turns to Mange to shrug, "Blast away." Mange lifts a Hand in Piper's direction and takes out half the sun porch's windows. "Have you ever known Piper to miss?" Phoebe shouts. Mange unleashes another Hand at Phoebe, but shatters a plant stand at the far end of the room instead. "She's getting angry," Piper grins, "and our powers don't work so well when we're angry." Big Getting-A-Clue Chris shoots a tentative look of recognition at his mom. "Don't worry," Raige sneers. "This bimbo couldn't hit the broad side of a beauty parlor." The titular blondes shriek at this, and Mange thrusts forward both Hands to demolish the sliding doors leading to the stairs. Big Not-Believing-This-Bullshit Chris gapes, and my, but he's pretty in this close-up. Piper evaluates the situation for the briefest of moments, then squeals, "Run!" The Glamorous Ladies scamper through the sliding doors' smoking wreckage and into the final commercial break.
Attic. The gals race to a trunk and retrieve various heavy-duty weapons they've confiscated from dark demonic forces over the years. Armed with a massive crossbow, Piper crouches behind the Victorian divan while Phoebe and Raige place themselves on either side of the door, hoisting an axe and a studded mace, respectively. The titular blondes storm in, and Piper immediately squeezes off an arrow. Mange, the first Mimbo in line, gasps in terror and defensively tosses up her hands. The arrow freezes inches from her face in mid-flight. Predictably enough, Piper, Phoebe, and Raige freeze as well. Mange plucks the arrow out of the air with temporary interest, then moves off to the side with her sisters to gloat as Big Secretly-Clued-In Chris orbs onto the carpet behind them. Big Man-With-A-Plan Chris strides over and plants a sloppy wet one on Midge, which leads to an instant hissyfit eruption amongst the dim blondes. Midge is furious because Mange thinks she's stupid; Mange is furious because Midge refuses to leave Big Object-O'-Justified-Lust Chris alone; and Moron is furious because Midge got three powers, a date with Chronic, a diamond necklace, and some of that Big Hunka-Hunka Flaming Chris. Meanwhile, I'm furious because I have to sterilize my husband's lips now that they've touched skanky Jenny McCarthy's, but that's neither here nor there.
With the heat of the Mimbos' argument rapidly escalating in front of him, Big Crafty Chris steals a glance at the Book. The triquatra embossed on its cover glows an encouraging red. Once the titular blondes start shoving each other around, the entire Manor shudders as if enduring a mild earthquake, and the outmoded chandelier above the Mimbos' heads shakes loose from its mooring to crash onto the floorboards. The three points of the glowing embossed triquatra split apart and vanish. As the Power of Three shatters apart, the Glamorous Ladies unfreeze. Big Casual Chris turns to Piper, hikes a thumb at Mange, and notes, "You should be able to handle these women now." Piper coolly clocks Mange in the jaw. Raige and Phoebe quickly do likewise to Moron and Midge, and the three titular blondes go down like, well, Jenny McCarthy, actually.
"How did you know they weren't us?" Piper asks, crossing to her son. "In all my life," he replies, "I've never seen you take the bait the way that witch took it from you." "In all your life?" Phoebe obliviously repeats. "You've only been our Whitelighter for two months." "Let's just reverse the magic," Big Adorably-Evasive Chris dodges, flipping the Book open to the appropriate spell before presenting it to Ma and the aunts. The gals read aloud from the page, and the bright white fairy lights stream from the Mimbos' unconscious forms back into the Glamorous Ladies.
Morning after the night before. After a brief closing travelogue, we head over to the Manor sun porch. While the Dolt terrorizes my husband's tiny self with ever more of those horrific baboon faces, Piper hastily exposits that the titular blondes are in Detective Darryl's custody for the death of the salesman, and that "they're [also] wanted in eight other states." She then graciously allows the Dolt to drop in anytime to scar my husband's tiny self for life, so long as she herself is not present in the Manor. She's certainly kinder about it than it comes across here, but I just want this multi-car pileup of an episode to end already.
And yet it drags on. Big Badly-Dressed Chris edges into the room for a word alone with his stupid father, and I do mean badly dressed, people. He's wearing an oatmeal-colored, eighties-style pullover -- you know, the kind with the quilted polyester epaulettes on the shoulders? It's ass. It's ass on toast, actually. And because I'm so busy focusing on the ass on toast, I miss most of the subsequent scene. Not that it matters, of course. Basically, the Dolt gets huffy with his son over that Valhalla bullshit, and then we're off to a junkyard, where Raige sets the Smurfs free to play among the rusting hulks of last year's models. No, really. Raige announces that, as the wetbacks are happy with their union settlement, the Smurfs may no longer torment the packing plant. They may, however, bounce about the surrounding steel to their hearts' content. The Smurfs cackle and zip away as Raige smiles to herself. Oh, Jesus. Aren't we done yet?
All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. Chronic and the Feebs chat about their non-existent relationship. He doesn't like her mixed signals. She doesn't like his habit of flying off to Hong Kong whenever there isn't enough money in the budget to cover his appearance in an episode. They agree to take things a little more slowly while trying to get to know each other better. Chronic proposes they get to work on this last bit immediately over "a classy lunch." Phoebe allows a small, shy smile, and links her arm in his to amble out of the office. As we slowly fade to black, Phoebe finishes it all off with a softly-spoken, almost abashed, "Jason? Thanks for my diamonds." Aw. Not. Shut it, bitch.
up, we've got good news, and we've got bad news. The bad news is, Raige goes evil again when a vindictive ghost possesses her body to exact vengeance upon those who caused her death. The good news is, Raige ends up with Balthazar Getty as her new slampiece. Oh, wait a minute. Those should be switched around, shouldn't they?