By Demian
Manor. Raige and Slampiece Buttfuck, looking rumpled, edge into the kitchen from the dining room and warily glance about. "Looks like they're still asleep," Buttfuck observes. "Maybe I should sneak out of here." Raige dragged a trick back to the Manor? Tramp. Good for her. Buttfuck's visited the barber for a trim since last we saw him, and the shorter, non-shaggy coif he's sporting suits him far more than the wild, greasy one had in the past. Raige, who simply slipped into a pair of shorts and an old button-down to escort her slampiece on the first leg of his Walk Of Shame, flings her arms around his neck and purrs, "Why don't you stay for breakfast?" Easing backwards towards the sink while dragging Buttfuck along with her, Raige continues, "How do you like your eggs?" If Buttfuck answers, "Fertilized," I'm going to storm out of my apartment and throttle the first person I see. Fortunately for the blameless passers-by on my street, Buttfuck instead worries his brow a bit and wonders, "What about your sisters?" "What about 'em?" Raige shrugs dismissively, taking another step back, and whoops! She trips over the hidden Piper's outstretched leg and plummets to the floor. "Oh!" Piper calls, emerging from beneath the sink. "Sorry." She'd been trying to fix the clogged garbage disposal, you see. Buttfuck immediately apologizes for spending the night without first receiving Piper and Phoebe's approval, but Piper, practically leering, is all, "[Raige] is a big girl. She can…hang out all she wants to." Off Buttfuck's Too Much Information eyebrow wiggle, Piper hastily amends, "Not that she does that a lot. I mean --" "You can stop now," Raige grunts. Heh. And thank God for Raige's interruption. I don't think I have enough time to link to every single one of Raige's slampieces, givenhow many of them there are.
See what I did there? Oh, shut up. Raige is a slut, and God love her for it.
Buttfuck, eager to change the topic of conversation, offers to take a look at the disposal. He's all manly, of course, and therefore able to do something about it, or some such bullshit. I, on the other hand, do not hesitate to pester the landlord when the smallest thing breaks down in this place, and I'm not ashamed in the least to admit to that. I pay enough goddamned money to live here, after all. The fat bastard who's profiting off my tired ass can change the goddamned light bulb in the hall, is all I'm saying. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Buttfuck flips a switch, and the vile pond of brown water in the sink gurgles a bit. Piper crosses to lean against the counter with Raige, expositing that in addition to their gunked-up disposal, the cable's on the fritz, the washer's making wonking sounds, and the sink in the upstairs bathroom's suffering from what appears to be an enormous hair plug. "Sounds like fun," Raige offers, while offering no help whatsoever. "That's my life!" Piper jazz-hands. "All about fun." Buttfuck, meanwhile, has been anxiously eyeing the gals. He reaches what is apparently a difficult decision and places his left hand above the Froot-Loop-dotted water in the sink. His hand glows yellow and emits a series of wavering rays of white light that somehow fix the disposal. Raige, delighted, enthuses, "He's handy to have around!" Piper, suspicious, snots, "I thought you didn't use magic anymore." Buttfuck shrugs that he only unleashes his bizarre mojo on "little things." "Do you want me to fix the washer?" he asks. Raige and Piper give simultaneous and contradictory answers. Three guesses which shrew said no, like, button it, Piper. Buttfuck's just trying to help.
Buttfuck, eager to change the topic of conversation, offers to take a look at the disposal. He's all manly, of course, and therefore able to do something about it, or some such bullshit. I, on the other hand, do not hesitate to pester the landlord when the smallest thing breaks down in this place, and I'm not ashamed in the least to admit to that. I pay enough goddamned money to live here, after all. The fat bastard who's profiting off my tired ass can change the goddamned light bulb in the hall, is all I'm saying. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Buttfuck flips a switch, and the vile pond of brown water in the sink gurgles a bit. Piper crosses to lean against the counter with Raige, expositing that in addition to their gunked-up disposal, the cable's on the fritz, the washer's making wonking sounds, and the sink in the upstairs bathroom's suffering from what appears to be an enormous hair plug. "Sounds like fun," Raige offers, while offering no help whatsoever. "That's my life!" Piper jazz-hands. "All about fun." Buttfuck, meanwhile, has been anxiously eyeing the gals. He reaches what is apparently a difficult decision and places his left hand above the Froot-Loop-dotted water in the sink. His hand glows yellow and emits a series of wavering rays of white light that somehow fix the disposal. Raige, delighted, enthuses, "He's handy to have around!" Piper, suspicious, snots, "I thought you didn't use magic anymore." Buttfuck shrugs that he only unleashes his bizarre mojo on "little things." "Do you want me to fix the washer?" he asks. Raige and Piper give simultaneous and contradictory answers. Three guesses which shrew said no, like, button it, Piper. Buttfuck's just trying to help.
Phoebe distractedly jiggles in for help choosing a pair of earrings, but stops short when she spots the slampiece in the kitchen. A bright, false smile appears on her face as she greets him, and the smile only gets tighter and faker when Piper informs her of Buttfuck's bizarre mojo display. Phoebe orders Piper into the hall, where she hisses, "Didn't [Buttfuck] lose it the last time he used magic? I mean, like, really lose it?" "I can assure you he remained in complete control over the garbage disposal," Piper deadpans before wondering why Phoebe's so "dressed up" at seven in the morning. This will shock you, I'm sure, but Phoebe actually appears to have just rolled out of bed. Seriously -- she's wearing this filmy, low-cut, knee-length pink thing that looks more like a flimsy bit of lingerie than a proper dress, so I have no idea where Piper's getting this "dressed up" shit. Oh, that's it -- the script. Anyway, it would appear Phoebe has a "video-conferencing" "date" with Chronic, who's still in Hong Kong. "We just open our laptops, and there we are," she explains, "in living color." "Mmm-hmm," Piper nods. "In each other's laps." Do not go there, honey. I don't want to imagine the perverted acts those two perform for each other via their web cams, okay? Let's just hope for humanity's sake that they're both on heavily secured DSL lines, because the last thing the world needs is another Hilton-esque atrocity propagating through the internet courtesy of FuckedCompany.com. Though Fucked Company would likely have an amusing headline for Chronic's efforts, wouldn't they? Phoebe tries to flip the topic back to Buttfuck and his supposed Willow-like addiction to magic, or whatever the hell it's meant to be, but Piper sternly warns Phoebe to mind her own business. Piper then glides up the stairs for further drudgery involving the hair clot in the bathroom. Phoebe mugs maniacally while examining her earrings. Drop dead, hag.
Upstairs, Piper mopes into the bathroom with her toolbox, examines the fetid, foul wastewater in the sink, and sighs, "Maybe a little magic couldn't hurt." Be careful what you wish for, doll. Ooops! Too late. The filthy water's surface bubbles up and coagulates into the bust of a curly-haired woman, who pleads, "Help me!" Piper hops back a step in shock.
The shot cuts to the banks of an actual pond over in whatever Los Angeles suburb they're using to represent the Bay Area this evening. Raige orbs onto the grass with Piper and Phoebe and immediately spouts, "Okay, so a watery lady pops up out of the sink -- are you sure she's not a demon?" Okay, so you're ripping off the Camelot legend for this evening's A-plot, Raige -- are you sure you couldn't have called her a watery tart? Whatever. I'm just lashing out because I already blew "bint" on a differentCharmedskank, and "moistened bint" is one of my favorite phrases ever. In any event, Piper's certain the watery tart in question needs help. When Phoebe prompts for further information, Piper admits there's none to be had. "That's all she said," Piper reveals. "'Harding Park pond,' and poof." I'd wonder if there actually were a Harding Park in San Francisco, but I'd have to care first. ["I think it's a golf course. Oh, hold on a sec -- I don't care either." -- Sars] Just as Piper finishes relating the watery tart's instructions, the Jacuzzi Floozy herself bubbles up out of the center of the pond, with -- you guessed it -- Excalibur leading the way. Actually, the sword's the only solid part of the apparition at first -- the Jacuzzi Floozy's physical form is a filmy outline of water that glides atop the lake's surface to land. The Floozy corporealizes once she reaches the ground, and she starts up the small embankment towards the Glamorous Ladies.
Just as she's about to speak, a hairball in Black Knight drag squiggles in on the other side of the clearing to make with the glowering. "They're coming!" bleats the Floozy, not realizing "they're" already present. The hairball hurls a dagger end over end into the Floozy's back, and she gasps in pain before staggering to the dirt. Excalibur, meanwhile, flies out of her grip and whickers through the air to disappear behind some trees. Hairball glares as the Glamorous Ladies scamper over to the Floozy's nearly lifeless form. Two leather-clad enforcers, apparently summoned by Hairball's glare, squiggle into the clearing with battleaxes and dash off to dispatch the Ps. Phoebe and Raige leap into action as Hairball conjures a smoky sword and glares some more. Blink, damn you! Blink! Hairball ignores me to stare at Phoebe and Raige as they make fried mincemeat of his enforcers. Raige calls for one's battleaxe with her orbing telekinesis, and plants it in the guy's back almost before it's had a chance to reform. That's kind of cool, actually. This first enforcer erupts in a ball of fire and drops out of camera range. Meanwhile, Phoebe wrests the other's axe from his hands and plants the business end in his stomach. This second enforcer vanishes almost instantly in a puff of flame and smoke. Hairball menaces his way over to Piper, who deploys her Hands of Discontent. The blast merely ricochets off Hairball's shield, however, as Phoebe and Raige dart over to provide Piper with cover. Phoebe leans back on one leg and notes, "I like these odds." Hairball glares -- again! Jesus! Blink! For the love of all that's holy and good! Blink already! -- and squiggles out. "Wimp," Raige sneers, even though she should have screamed, "Oh, I see! Running away, eh? You yellow bastard! Come back here and take what's coming to you! I'll bite your legs off!"
Ahem. The almost-dead Jacuzzi Floozy lifts her head from Piper's lap long enough to moan, "The sword!" before losing consciousness for the final time. She collapses back, glows a bit, and dissolves in a splash of water that's quickly absorbed into the ground. "The sword?" Piper puzzles. "Where is it?" "It's in the stone," Raige intones, nodding her head towards the suddenly-appearing papier-mâché boulder a few yards behind the gals. The camera tracks in on Excalibur encased in its fake rock before leaping back to Phoebe, who incredulously breathes, "The Sword In The Stone?" "Oh, you gotta be kidding me," Piper groans. "Right?" That twinkle in Excalibur's hilt tells me it's dead serious, Piper. Albeit a little mischievous. It's going to be a long night. Credits.
And the night instantly gets that much longer when I realize there's a Drew-Fuller-shaped hole in said credits. Shit.
Apparently, "proper enunciation" is not a concept familiar to tonight's Travelogue Ovary, so I can't tell if the lyrics are episode-appropriate. However, the Ovary does seem to be well acquainted with "shrill," so we'll be skipping through the travelogue if that's okay with everyone. Back at the Manor, we discover that Raige has orbed the papier-mâché boulder directly onto the wrought-iron table in the sun porch. The table, oddly enough, has splintered under the weight of all that paper and glue, so Piper (of course) busily sweeps up the bits of wreckage that remain, grumping and complaining the entire time about her goddamned life while feckless Raige loiters off to the side. Excalibur indicates its displeasure with the relentless Manor bitchery by tossing off a sullen glimmer. "Is it glowing?" Buttfuck marvels. "No!" Piper insists. "It's the sun room. There's a lot of light." And I'll be taking that as a shout-out, because they've never referred to this location as anything but "the conservatory" up to this point. Thanks, Holly! Oh, and congrats on the percolating parasite you've got sloshing around in your uterus! Kisses!
Anywho, Piper flatly refuses to believe Avalon and all that was real while Raige and Buttfuck attempt to convince her otherwise. Phoebe bounces down the stairs with the Book of Shadows, and there's some more irritating Beware The Buttfuck Bearing Bizarre Mojo bullshit before Phoebe admits that her abuse of the Book was all for naught. No entries exist for the sword and/or the late, unlamented Jacuzzi Floozy. Phoebe did find an page on Hairball's enforcers, however, and we learn that "Executioner Demons" are "minions of a low order -- demonic mercenaries incapable of original thoughts or deed -- usually found in the employ of higher-level demons or mortals proficient in the dark arts." Now you know I'm not a big fan of the writing staff, but I do think they're being a little hard on themselves. They nailed Spelling to the wall, though, didn't they? Phoebe also reveals that Hairball's more properly known as "The Dark Knight," "a power-mad paladin of destruction." And now the writer's have bagged Kern, too. I do hope they don't get fired over this. Then again, fuck the writers, because "paladin"? Of destruction? No. It would help if you actually knew what various words meant before you threw them into the script, assholes. In any event, Raige realizes that now is not a good time to have Buttfuck lingering in the Manor, so she escorts him towards the door. They murmur sweet nothings in the front hall before embracing, and Raige is clearly smitten with her slumming, smack-addicted Getty heir. Aw.
Back on the sun porch, Piper instructs Phoebe to whip up a Hairball vanquish, but Phoebe bails in favor of All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. "I still don't have an assistant, and I'm swamped!" she whines. So quit, bitch. I hated that subplot the minute it was introduced in the fourth season. Get rid of it. Phoebe pays me no mind and wanders off-screen as Piper attempts to pass potion duty to Raige. Raige, however, is on her way to her latest temp assignment. "You know there's a magical reason I've had every one of these jobs," Raige reminds Piper when the latter protests. "Who am I to interfere with destiny?" "So," Piper snits, "you want me to add 'baby-sit the sword' and 'mix vanquishing potion' to my never-ending to-do list?" Raige rolls her eyes. "Look," she states. "The sword is stuck in the stone. You know it, I know it, the bad guys know it, and nobody's gonna get it out until King Arthur pulls it out." That sounds so dirty. "And when might that be?" Piper ices. "How should I know?" Raige grunts. "Maybe a couple thousand years?" Raige turns to flounce off, but stops dead in her tracks when a cunning idea forms in her head. She retraces her steps to the sun porch and yanks on Excalibur's hilt. Nothing happens. "Can't blame a girl for trying!" Raige perks before heading off for good. Piper tugs an earlobe and sighs.
Down in Hell, or wherever, Hairball tosses a flunky up against a heavy door and presses the sharp end of his blade against the guy's neck. And that sounds pretty dirty, too, doesn't it? There's nattering from Hairball about how the useless enforcers from the pre-credits sequence were no better than "cannon fodder for witches" before the flunky proposes a deal. He'll provide a better class of enforcer in exchange for "a seat at the table." The camera's panned back during all of this, and we note that the table of which he speaks is of the round sort, its top engraved with a black pentagram. Flunky exposits, "If your goal is to unite all evil under the corrupted power of the sword, you could do far worse than have me at your side." Sigh. Another Dark Demonic Forces Threaten To Unite The Underworld, Only To Be Vanquished By The Glamorous Ladies episode. Haven't there been at least seventy of these already? Whatever. These two should be dead in about ten minutes, so why should I care? Right? Right?
All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. Long story short, Raige is Phoebe's new "desk manager." "I can't tell you what to do," Phoebe simpers when she hears the news. "How weird is that?" "No weirder than usual," Raige simmers. "I see," Phoebe grimaces, busted. "Kidding!" Raige chimes, before mumbling, "Sort of." Heh. Phoebe caves, and Raige gets to work.
Back at the Manor, Piper tosses a filthy glare at the wonking washing machine before wearily yanking the plug from the socket. She crosses back into the kitchen to attend to the boiling Hairball vanquish, and from somewhere beneath the center island, a male voice calls, "Hey, Lady!" I capitalized "Lady," incidentally, because I believe the gentleman so addressing Piper meant it that way. Get it? You will. Piper crouches down to find the Lead Dwarf (we like him, you'll recall, because he doesn't take any of their shit), who continues, "We could really use an authority figure out there." "What are you doing here?" Piper grits. "Getting pushed around!" he retorts. "I just lost my place in line," he adds, hiking a thumb towards the Manor proper. Piper, carefully grasping her fragile patience with both hands, inhales sharply before following the Lead Dwarf into the dining room. Piper's fragile patience drops to the floor and shatters into a million billion pieces once she spies The Stoopid on the sun porch. Yes, gentle reader, it's The Return Of The Stoopid Magikal Kreatures from last season, though you might want to offer a silent prayer of thanks this time around, for there's nary an assy nymrod in sight. We do have a "satyr," an "ogre," and one of those fucking Smurfs, however, so I'm still pissed off. Piper exchanges a few choice words with the intruders before bellowing for Big Gay Chris. What she gets is an orb cloud full of Dolt, however, who explains that Big Gay Chris "is busy with other charges," as the Dolt took it upon himself to remove Big Chris from the Glamorous Ladies' "account" again. Fuck you, Dolt. You know how much I need my pretty husband to get me through these hour-long atrocities, and you fucking station him elsewhere anyway? You worthless shit. Rrrgh. Anyway, The Stoopid Magikal Kreatures get lippy and order the Dolt to the back of the line as The Flatulent Oboe Of Wacky Wiccan Hijinks stinks up the soundtrack.
All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. Phoebe emerges from her staff meeting to discover that Raige has pretty much successfully reorganized Phoebe's office in less than an hour. Raige even whipped a trio of fetching male interns into shape. Proof that Phoebe's a complete and utter dipshit? You decide. Phoebe oohs and aahs over her much-improved desk for a bit before Raige gets all passive-aggressive about the Buttfuck issue. How does she do this? By slamming Phoebe's passive-aggressive column for the morning's edition. You see, Phoebe "received" a letter from some woman whose family hates her fiancé because they think he's a boozehound. "And absent any proof," Raige notes with a sneer, "you're telling her to end it." Phoebe tries to blow the whole thing off, but Raige persists, more or less accusing Phoebe of fabricating the letter so she could, in effect, tell her own sister how to run her life through the column. Phoebe insists that the letter's not about Buttfuck, but Raige calls her on her crap. "You hate him, don't you?" Raige spits. "I'm just concerned you're falling too fast for a guy you don't really know," Phoebe replies, totally not answering Raige's question before admitting that the whole situation's really none of her business. Raige glares in a fury anyway.
My problem with this scene? So glad you asked. It would have made far more sense had Phoebe actually mentioned The Whole Cole Thing at some point during this conversation, and I can't for the life of me figure out why she didn't. Unless, of course, she's so fucking stupid she's already forgotten about a storyline that lasted the better part of three goddamned seasons. Also, despite the fact The Whole Cole Thing is one of the reasons I hate Phoebe so much now, acknowledging that it's coloring her perception of Raige's current relationship would have made Phoebe a bit more sympathetic. As it stands, the scene makes her look like a meddling, hypocritical bizz-natch, and I'm fucking sick of putting up with this selfish fucking hag every fucking week.
ANY-way, it matters not, for the Dolt orbs in to interrupt everything with news of The Stoopid Family Reunion on the Manor's sun porch. Soon enough, we're following the trio back to the Manor, where Raige and the Dolt orb in with the Feebs to find that creepy-ass zombie fairy queen futzing with Excalibur's handle. Excalibur, unfortunately, does not hoist itself from its papier-mâché boulder to gut the little bitch. More's the pity. We do get a sort-of shout-out, however, when the glandular nightmare that is the Ogre dismissively refers to the Zombie Queen as a "pest." Raige eyes The Von Stoopid Family Singers and mumbles, "I was afraid this would happen." "You think you could have mentioned that?" Piper snaps from the dour depths of her wicker armchair. "We have got to get this thing out of [the Manor]," she grumbles. "[The Dolt]," she adds with a frosty glare, "refuses to orb it." "Hey," he pouts by way of response, "the Lady of the Lake came to the Charmed Ones for help. I'm not messing with that." "Oh, for God's sake!" Piper howls, rising to her feet. "If you will not get rid of it, then I will!" She storms over to the fake rock, shoves aside The Glandular Nightmare, and latches onto the sword to, I don't know, drag the whole thing into the backyard, or something. Of course, Excalibur instantly slides smoothly out of the papier-mâché boulder when she pulls on it. Of course. Gasps all around from the Stoopid on the sun porch, and yes, I'm including Phoebe and the Dolt in that statement. The various non-human Kreatures bow and scrape before Piper as a whirling funnel cloud drills down through the ceiling to disgorge Edward Atterton. Yes, they hired for this episode the guy who banged Julianna Margulies, Samantha Mathis, and Michael Vartan in The Mists Of Avalon. I'd call it inspired casting, were it not so fucking obvious. Besides, a quick glance at his résumé on the IMDb tells me that Eddie hasn't exactly been what you would call busy or anything. But whatever. He has some hellacious blue eyes, and in the absence of my husband this evening, I'll be taking whatever televised man candy I can get.
"I bet you didn't expect this when you got up this morning," Eddie smirks, crossing to Piper, who's rather awkwardly waving the blade around in the air. Eddie places his hands on Piper's shoulders and announces to the room, "The sword has chosen!" Phoebe claps a hand over her mouth and clutches at the Dolt in shock. "You are the new savior," Eddie breathes, leaning into Piper's ear, "the champion of good. The master of Excalibur." The Lead Dwarf rolls his eyes. Hee. "Welcome," Eddie finishes, "to your new destiny." Piper's response? "Oh, crap!" Unfortunately, the idiot editor cuts off her reaction shot so abruptly in favor of heading into the commercial break, we don't have time to laugh, like, it's called "timing," asswipe. Acquire a sense of it before you fuck up another goddamned joke.
I hate this show.
Back from the break, Phoebe escorts the Lead Dwarf to the front door. He waddles slowly across the threshold, super-speeds three steps forward to sniff at one of the improbable roses on the trellis, then super-speeds off. No, I have no idea why that effects sequence was necessary, but I'm assuming they discovered they had money to burn on this one once they decided to give Drew Fuller the week off, and to that I say: Fewer effects, more pretty boys. Thanks. Back in the parlor, Piper moodily insists that there must be some sort of mistake. As if in response, Excalibur slides across the coffee table to nudge her hand. "Stop that!" she barks. Heh. "It's drawn to you," Eddie claims, "just like you're drawn to it." Piper shuts him down with a few quippy remarks, one of them being, "I don't have time to play Queen Arthur!" Edward Atterton stares at her all, "Was that a slam, missy? 'Cause I'll have you know that threeway was Vartan's idea." That line's also amusing because Raige enters immediately after it, toting Tiny Gay Chris over to his father, and if you don't know who this episode's real Queen Arthur is from that blocking choice, you've never seen television before. Especially when Raige enthuses that Piper's "The Chosen One," which, if I remember correctly, is a moniker once bestowed upon the wee Done One now slouching like a boneless wad of flesh in the Dolt's lap. Oh, wow. I'm sorry. "Boneless wad of flesh in the Dolt's lap" is quite simply vile and uncalled for, isn't it? And yet, I refuse to delete it from the recap. Hmmm. In any event, Raige urges "Merlin" to regale them all with tales of the true Camelot. "Actually, the name's Mordaunt," Eddie corrects her. "Merlin was just a fairy tale." I'll be calling him Morgaunt, because Eddie could use a sandwich. Also: "Fairy tale"? Snorf. Stop it with the gay, people. We get it. Morgaunt here got to feel up Vaughn, and we all hate him for it, so let's just put it all behind us and get on with the episode, okay? Phoebe wonders if Morgaunt's a wizard, and continuity just took a double hit in the space of two lines of dialogue. As you'll no doubt remember Monkey Boy was the last of his kind, and he also called Merlin "a hack." Fuck it. If the writers can't remember this stuff, there's no reason I should anymore. Morgaunt, in any event, claims he's not a wizard, but rather "a humble teacher in service of the sword." If that overly obsequious self-definition doesn't set off any alarms amongst the Manor Morons, nothing will.
Morgaunt goes on to warn of Hairball, but the ladies assure him that they've already prepared a vanquish. Upon learning of the ingredients -- mandrake and griffin's blood, if you care -- Morgaunt dismisses it as inadequate, and conjures a piece of parchment delineating a far more complicated potion. "I've never even heard of half these ingredients," Phoebe admits, running a finger down the sheet of paper. The Dolt, suspicious, shoots Phoebe A Look, so she activates her Fucking Backup Band. Unfortunately, she "can't get a read" on Morgaunt. He allows that their suspicions are to be expected, but urges them to focus on the potion, for if he can't get Piper up to speed on her swordplay, the vanquish will be the only thing protecting them from the Hairball. "Where are we supposed to get the ingredients?" Phoebe worries. "Leave it to me, your trusty assistant," Raige snarks, grabbing onto Phoebe's arm and orbing upwards. The Dolt, meanwhile, orbs up to Whitelighterland with Tiny Gay Chris to consult with the other ever-useless Elders. Piper, now alone with Morgaunt, rises from the sofa with the sword and twirls it around experimentally. Morgaunt conjures a smoking scimitar of his own, and shouts, "En garde!" They fight, with Piper rather expertly parrying Morgaunt's various thrusts. Yes, it sounds gross, but that's just because I've been cracking crass dick jokes for the last two paragraphs. Also, you have a filthy mind. Morgaunt blithers some Yoda-esque crap about Piper letting Excalibur's Force flow through her or something before we cut to…
…a demonic foundry, where Hairball and Flunky wander through a crowd of WeHo leather queens until one of the lesser enforcers interrupts their reverie by tossing the captured Lead Dwarf onto a table. The Lead Dwarf fills them in on Piper's new Queen Arthur gig before slamming his fist into the lesser enforcer's balls and super-speeding away. You think I'm kidding with that, don't you? And you'd be wrong. The lesser enforcer doubles over, clutching his nads, as Hairball seethes with rage.
Castle Montanague. Slampiece Buttfuck opens a heavy door that swings on creaky, rusted hinges to reveal a dusty, cobwebbed storage room that houses his clan's more arcane potion ingredients. The various jars contain, in addition to your various roots and herbs, "creature parts" like "fairy wings" and "[Smurf] ears." Buttfuck explains his family had been "stockpiling" the various ingredients for generations, so he can't be certain of their precise provenance. For some reason, this arouses The Wrath Of The Feebs, and she gets outrageously pissy, like, open your freaking eyes, nimrod. His family just moved back east two weeks ago and it's obvious no one's been in this room for years, so why the hell are you busting on Buttfuck and his motives, you brainless wart? And why aren't you, Raige, calling her on this bullshit? You're yelling, sure, but it's all about Phoebe minding her own business when it should be about the fucking nimrod's complete misinterpretation of the physical evidence before her. Jesus, Raige, I thought you were smarter than that. ANY-way, Buttfuck, who'd exited to retrieve a mortar and pestle, finally returns, and, sensing the tension, asks, "Everything all right?" Phoebe has the gall to roll her eyes and turn away from him. Bitch. Raige glares at the Feebs and snarls, "Let's just get this over with, all right?" Yeah, you can start by clobbering your stupid fucking sister with the fucking pestle, hon. GOD!
Manor attic. More swordplay, conveyed through a series of close-ups and jump-cuts so we won't notice that Holly Marie Combs is not performing her own stunts. Piper eventually pins Morgaunt against an armoire. "You're a quick study," he compliments her. "You're a good teacher," she allows with a small smile. There's some more faux-mystical ranting from Morgaunt, and it becomes clear that Piper is -- wait for it -- losing her identity due to this evening's wacky hijinks. Hairball chooses this moment to squiggle into the attic with Flunky and a couple of bondage queens. "You!" Hairball sneers, giving Morgaunt the -- well, the hairy eyeball, actually. By the way, Hairball still hasn't blinked. It's unnatural, I'm telling you. "Take him!" Morgaunt orders Piper, so her stunt double flies into action. Tussling. Clanking. Morgaunt somersaults over to his discarded weapon just as the Bondage Queens charge, and we…
…head back to Castle Montanague, where Raige grinds some leaves while Phoebe adds a bit of "wereboar tusk" to a copper pot. In order, the ingredients are a few strands of "nymph hair" (pulled, yes, from the ass), three drops of "wraith essence," and "a level teaspoon" of "black poppy." Buttfuck, who had been pacing awkwardly just outside the door, hears this last ingredient and shouts, "No!" He flicks his right wrist with two fingers extended like he's a sky witch indicating the emergency exits on a DC-10, and telekinetically sends Phoebe flying out of the storage room into the hall. Raige dashes to her sister's side, and the two women rise as Buttfuck gingerly collects a pinch of the black poppy. "Watch," he orders them, stepping back towards the hall. He flings the sprinkle of poppy into the pot, which explodes with enough force to shatter the thing. "Don't ever mix wraith essence and black poppy," he warns them. "Ever." "Why would Morgaunt do this?" Raige bleats. "He wants you dead," Buttfuck duhs. Raige wrinkles her nose as Phoebe gapes.
Attic. Clanking. Piper offs Flunky, then nails one of the Bondage Queens. As she engages the remaining Bondage Queen, Morgaunt and Hairball lock swords to hiss at each other. "We made a deal!" Hairball spits. "I don't need you to get the sword anymore," Morgaunt taunts. "I've got her!" Morgaunt flips Hairball around to the remaining Bondage Queen's side, and Holly's stunt double takes them both out with one swipe of Excalibur. Morgaunt makes with the useless metaphysical babbling again -- this time about how Piper's become one with the sword, or something -- as Raige orbs in with Phoebe. They fill Piper in on the whole Morgaunt-tried-to-kill-us thing, but Piper, drunk with power, thinks they're just jealous. No, seriously. She frosts them with something along the lines of, "You think I can't handle it, don't you?" Phoebe urgently bats at Raige, so Raige tries to summon the sword from Piper's hands with her orbing telekinesis. The instant Piper realizes what's going on, though, she jerks the sword back, somehow knocking the orb off. "Don't ever do that again," Piper darkly warns, her tone downright glacial. "Your queen has spoken," Morgaunt smarms, before gathering Piper up in a swirling cloud and vanishing from the room. "Her Majesty has left the building," Phoebe snarks. Shut it, sow. "Or 'Her Madness,'" Raige amends, and Raige, honey, don't ever do that again. I mean, ow. That actually hurt.
When we return from the break, we discover that Piper's turned into Dungeon Mistress Barbie while we were away, and good God, that's a bad look for her. The quilted leather bustier and matching pants I could almost deal with, but the hiddy blouse she's sporting up top? It's got mutton sleeves, people. What were they thinking? Anyway, Piper stands to the pentagrammed table with Excalibur lying before her, and as we already know that this is A Very Bad Deal For Piper, the subsequent scene is utterly lacking in tension. It also means that this dialogue about Piper creating a new world according to her own desire is pointless. Well, except for the part where it becomes clear that Morgaunt's just feeding her a line to get in her quilted leather pants. I'm assuming there's a point involved in that. They mack, but Morgaunt keeps his eyes open the entire time the way demons tend to do on this show, so it's not exactly The Sexy. As they kiss, he surreptitiously reaches for the sword. Unfortunately for Morgaunt, Excalibur's also pissed Atterton got to roll around on a couple of animal skins with Vaughn, so it glows up in a fit of jealous pique and slides across the table away from his hand. Morgaunt tenses in frustration. Piper, detecting his change in mood, pulls away to wonder what's wrong. He covers by announcing that it's time to gather her knights. Piper has some ideas, but Morgaunt shoots them down. He will "be [her] counsel," he insists, as he knows who will best serve her. "But they will not come easily," he cautions. Piper must "force them to join" her. Piper doesn't like the sound of that, but decides to play along for now.
Up on the sun porch, Raige tries and fails to scry for Piper. The Dolt's returned from Whitelighterland, and for once, he's arrived with some useful information. While Piper was meant to draw the sword from the stone, it was only to pass the thing along to the true Chosen One. Phoebe supposes that Piper's actually the new Jacuzzi Floozy, and the Dolt confirms that Phoebe's not entirely wrong. The Dolt further notes that "only the ultimate power on earth can handle Excalibur," which is why Piper's turning "evil." Phoebe, by the way, has been lugging Tiny Gay Chris around during all of this, and if you haven't figured out who this episode's true Queen Arthur is by now, you're an idiot. Just hang your head in shame, numbskull. Raige's scrying crystal slams down upon a couple of unspecified map coordinates, and she asks with a rhetorical lift of her brow, "Guess who just surfaced?"
Over in San Francisco's infamous Shantytown District, Piper topples a heavyset demon of color onto a bale of hay. God, that blouse is a disaster. Between the high neck and the mutton sleeves, she's just a tube of flammable, copper-based green face paint away from morphing into Margaret Hamilton in The Wizard Of Oz. Not. Flattering. The demon of color, incidentally, is listed in the end credits as The Soul-Blaster. I mention this only because it'll save me a rant about the incomprehensibility of what's coming up. Morgaunt and Piper give Soul Man the Round Table sales pitch -- at sword-point, no less -- and he's just about to sign on when Raige orbs in with Phoebe over by some rusted-out water heaters at the far end of the shack's dooryard. There can be no place that even remotely resembles this location within the city of San Francisco. I'm sure of it. Whatever. Phoebe flings a potion vial at the sword, which pretty much absorbs the impact unscathed, but it does flame up a bit. Piper retaliates by hurling the thing like a javelin directly at Raige's chest. Raige orbs out immediately, and the sword embeds itself in one of the rusted-out water heaters. Raige orbs back in behind Piper to snatch her into a Manorwards orb, but Piper throws herself forward and flips Raige off over her back. Piper then simply extends her right hand, and the sword flies back into her grip. "Now make your queen proud," Morgaunt encourages Soul Man, as Phoebe helps Raige to her feet. Soul Man wordlessly opens his palm. Bolts of electric energy nail Phoebe and Raige in their respective bazooms. The gals' bodies instantly drop to the dirt, leaving their spirits to stand there all, "The hell?" Morgaunt gathers Piper and Soul Man up in a swirling cloud and vanishes as Phoebe heaves her ghostly implants and Raige nervously calls for the Dolt.
Down in Hell, Soul Man zaps into one of the Round Table's chairs and glances around uneasily. The other three seats are occupied by a Grimlock, a Banshee, and something with claws and no mouth. Piper speechifies about a new world order, but Morgaunt interrupts to remind her that he must administer the loyalty oath before they can proceed with her plans. Piper waves a hand around all, "Have at it." Morgaunt instructs the demons to place their left hands on the points of the pentagram. The stupid demons obediently comply with his request. Morgaunt then chants some Craptin along the lines of "Beraxus cotra mierra!" A searing yellow light shoots from his left hand into and around the pentagram, following the deep grooves engraved in the tabletop. As the light reaches each point on the star, it somehow ensnares and paralyzes each demon present. Once the demons have been trapped, Morgaunt continues, "Supreme demonic powers: Leave your hosts and find a new home in this willing heart." A second bolt of energy whips from his hand in a direct line across the table, again following the outline of the star, and the Grimlock vanishes in a flare, howling. The bolt, having snatched up whatever powers that demon possessed, shoots across the table to engulf the Banshee, then Soul Man, and, finally, that mouthless thing with the claws. Once the demons have vanished, the bolt shoots down the fifth and final side of the star and reenters Morgaunt's body. He flares up and collapses back in his chair. Dude, that was wicked cool.
"You vanquished my knights," Piper shrieks. "Why?" By way of response, Morgaunt wiggles his fingers around, and Excalibur tears itself out of Piper's grip and drifts across the room to settle in his. "[I'm] fulfilling my centuries-old quest to control Excalibur," Morgaunt calmly explains. "But it belongs to me," Piper protests, still clueless. "No," he corrects her, rising, "it never did, but thanks to you and the combined powers of your knights, it now belongs to me -- The Ultimate Power. All that remains to do," he exposits, "is to eliminate the true recipient of Excalibur before he grows old enough to fulfill his destiny as the son of a Charmed One." "You can't hurt him," Piper insists, backing away from Morgaunt and beginning to freak. "He's protected." "I couldn't before, but I can with this," Morgaunt counters, and he runs Piper through with the blade. Piper gasps in shock as the camera pans to take in the bloody expanse of metal protruding from her back. Morgaunt rips the sword back out of her body, and rises to smirk his way into the final commercial break.
Sun porch. Raige reclines on the wicker love seat, massaging her pained temples and groaning while Phoebe scries once more for Piper. "I am getting tired of this whole soul-separating-from-my-body thing," she grumps, rising to a sitting position. "It's getting to be a disturbing pattern." The Dolt opines the gals were lucky he arrived when he did, as their "souls were getting ready to move on." "Move on to where, exactly?" Raige teases with a grin. "Nice try," he returns with a smile of his own. The three bang their heads together and quickly realize the best way to divest Piper of her Arthurian fantasy is to present her with the sword's true recipient. But just who could that recipient be? Hmmm. Oh, what's that? Tiny Gay Chris has something unintelligible to add to the conversation by loudly mewling from the depths of his product-placed playpen? Raige is the first to realize that Tiny Chris is actually Prince Arthur, and Phoebe quickly agrees. Unfortunately, Brian Krause decides to unleash The Constipated Chimpanzee Face Of Unbearable Anguish And Torment at this moment, so we must watch as the Dolt doubles over in empathic pain the instant he senses Piper elsewhere in the city. Meanwhile, Phoebe's scrying crystal slams down on Harding Park, which, I've learned in the two days it took me to finish this, is actually to Lake Merced, a bit down the Pacific coast from the city center. The Dolt orbs out with the Feebs while Raige hangs back to wrangle Tiny Chris from his pen.
Over in the park, Piper slowly expires on the grass as Morgaunt, hovering above, taunts her. The second the Dolt orbs in with Phoebe, Morgaunt swirls away to inflict some grievous bodily injury upon Tiny Gay Chris. The Dolt scampers over to the ex-wife and applies the tingly touch. She heals so suddenly and completely that her head snaps off the ground. "Where's [Tiny Chris]?" she demands.
Back on the sun porch, Morgaunt stalks over to the product-placed playpen and sighs, "My apologies. I guess it just wasn't meant to be." He hoists the sword into the air and plunges it down through the swaddled figure at the bottom of the pen. Of course, it's actually Crusty Ted, whom Raige had wrapped in a blanket. "Oh!" Raige sings, orbing in on the far side of the room with Tiny Gay Chris. "That was his favorite teddy bear." Liar. The Dolt orbs in with Piper and the Feebs. As Piper collects Tiny Chris from Raige, she sardonically parrots Morgaunt's earlier line: "Bet you didn't expect this when you got up this morning." "B-but I've still got Excalibur!" he splutters. "Go for it," the Dolt hisses at Tiny Chris. The creepily affectless infant sort of blinks in Morgaunt's general direction, and the sword dissolves into a cloud of orbs that reforms in mid-air in front of the kid's face. Tiny Chris then turns his head slightly, and the sword flies across the room to plant itself in Morgaunt's chest. Piper, to her credit, seems to be as appalled with her sociopath of a toddler as I am. Morgaunt steams and smokes and erupts into a ball of fire. The sword remains suspended for a moment before digging into the linoleum. "Oooo-kay, sweetie," Piper begins. "That's very, very…good. But we need to put this thing away before you put an eye out." Heh. With Tiny Chris balanced on one of her hips, Piper crosses to lift the sword from the floor and replace it in its niche in the papier-mâché boulder. "Think you can orb this into the attic?" Piper asks Raige. "Sure!" Raige perks. For those of you so interested, Raige displays a definite power progression by simply gesturing with her hand to send the fake rock upwards in a cloud of orbs, rather than calling for it as she normally does. "Away from any furniture?" Piper warns. A loud, crashing noise from above answers that question. "Sorry," Raige grimaces. Everyone giggles, except for the murderous psycho masquerading as a toddler. Christ, that vacant little brat is spooky.
All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. Phoebe taps away on her keyboard as Raige wanders in to wrap up their subplot. Phoebe reveals that she's working on a last-minute change to the following day's column. "This woman right here is worried that her mother might be marrying the wrong guy," Phoebe explains. "She thinks he might be the devil incarnate." "Didn't we vanquish the devil incarnate?" Raige snickers. "I told her," Phoebe admits, "that unless she has absolute proof, she should probably butt out, and let her sister live her own life." "I thought this was about a mother," Raige smirks. "Yeah, well…" Phoebe offers. Raige ponders the fact that this was her first temp job with no "magical reason." "It may not have been a magical reason," Phoebe smiles, "but there was a reason. I just have to learn to start taking my own advice." Raige smiles back fondly and says, "Yeah, well, don't stop worrying about me too much." Good God, did these two just have a nice moment together? Christ. When's the last time that happened? Buttfuck wanders in to take Raige out on the town, and they ask if Phoebe would like to tag along. Phoebe, for once reading someone's emotional mood correctly, recognizes that Raige needs time alone with the slampiece, so she begs off, telling them, not unkindly, to skedaddle. As Raige and Buttfuck head towards the main doors, Phoebe calls out, "Hey, [Raige]? You're fired." "Actually," Raige sasses back, "I quit." That was such a nice little scene that I won't even comment on the Doherty-Milano meta-moment we just witnessed.
After some time-lapse shots of the moon rising over nighttime city traffic, we head back to the Manor, where Piper's fruitlessly attempting to instill some sort of moral code in her homicidal brat. Okay, not really. She's babbling about Tiny Gay Chris playing with "normal toys" for a very, very long time before he gets to screw around with the sword in the fake stone again. The kid's totally ignoring her, though. Creepy little motherfucker. The Dolt ambles in with an affable "How we doing?" "His Highness," Piper archly notes, "seems content." Yeah, that's just what he wants you to think. thing you know, he's going to be slaughtering you all in your sleep. The Dolt reveals that he's fixed everything that ever needed to be fixed around the Manor, so Piper should have more time to spend with their freaky demon child. "I forgot how handy you were to have around the house," she offers affectionately. They take a moment before the Dolt, referring to Tiny Chris, admits, "Pretty strange, huh?" "Kinda scary, actually," Piper replies. "We've seen what he can do without the sword. I can't begin to imagine what he could do with it." The Dolt que-sera-seras that "whatever it is, it's meant to be." "Doesn't make it any less scary," Piper notes, gazing down at her weenie little sociopath. "But," she adds, "that's tomorrow's problem. I'll worry about it then." Piper and the Dolt rise to return Tiny Chris to The Patricia Campbell Hearst Commemorative Child-Care Nook downstairs. As they exit the attic, the camera draws back to take in the sword, which gleams in the light before we fade to black.
week, the gals meet an infant who's supposedly even freakier than Tiny Gay Chris. I'll believe that when I see it. Enjoy!