We fade in high above the main floor of a purportedly tony eatery, and the first thing I notice about the purportedly tony eatery is that it has the same black-and-white checkerboard floor as the St. Regis ballroom and Slampiece Ratbag's piano bar. Nice to know they're getting their money's worth out of the set. The camera pans down through the chandeliers to follow a staggeringly suave wine steward as he makes his way past various well-heeled diners towards a particular table. Said table contains none other than Chronic and the Feebs, and ew. They're macking like two horny teenagers in the back row of a darkened cineplex, rather than comporting themselves as two thirtysomething adults should while on a date in the sort of establishment that includes a staggeringly suave wine steward on its payroll. Jackasses. Guido Suave politely clears his throat, and the two imbeciles break apart with ropes of saliva dangling from their lips. It's gross. Guido Suave expertly handles the awkward and vile situation by assuring the giggly contrite Feebs that one need never apologize for a kiss, but you can tell that were he not several levels of class above these two nimrods, he'd be cracking that bottle of '95 Brunello di Montalcino open on Phoebe's skull. Chronic, displaying typical amounts of both tact and concern for the help, mops Phoebe's spit from his mouth with a napkin while dismissively waving Guido Suave away to decant the wine. Guido Suave tosses a subtly sullen glare in Chronic's direction and exits the frame. After he's gone, the revolting duo natter about Chronic buying his grandfather's winery, which he'd been wanting to purchase ever since the old coot sold it all those many years ago, and you know what, Chronic? NO ONE CARES. No one! Not one single human being alive on the planet! Nor any of the dead ones, for that matter! Nor any of those yet to be born! Nobody! SHUT. UP!
After a couple of "soulful" glances, Chronic breathes, "You know what? You are special, Phoebe." Gag. Unless, of course, he meant "special" as in "education" or "Olympics," in which case I'd be forced to agree with him. He doesn't mean it that way, however, and thank God for that. Were I forced to agree with Chronic, I'd have to open my wrists and bleed out all over my laptop, and do you have any idea how much it would cost to clean that crap out of the keyboard? I'll tell you: A lot. Also: Shut up, Chronic. Phoebe's Fucking Backup Band kicks in, and she leans forward with glistening eyes to purr, "I love you, too." The sound effects editor pulls the Needle Scraping Off A Vinyl LP effect out of his ass to emphasize Chronic's extreme discomfort, like, show of hands, Twelve-Year-Olds Who Watch This Crap: Have any of you even seen a vinyl record, much less dragged a stereo arm across one to gouge up the surface of your bitch sister's favorite Supertramp album so it'll skip, thereby getting even with the pig for telling your mom you skipped your hateful piano lesson to sneak into Breaking Away? What's that? None of you have? Didn't think so. So, toss that fucking cliché into the garbage can already, Sound Guy. It's wasted on the preadolescent idiots who comprise your target audience.
ANY-way, Chronic recoils at Phoebe's declaration, Phoebe babbles that she meant to say something else, and Raige discreetly orbs in behind a curtain to put an end to this tedious scene. Raige crosses to their table and, euphemizing that Piper's got "a power problem," convinces the Feebs to cut her date short. Phoebe exits the restaurant with a maximum of hooting and yodeling, at one point obliviously backing into a waiter to send him crashing to the floor along with his fully laden tray. Stupid bitch. Chronic passes a hand over his face in embarrassment and shame. Didn't I tell you to cram it, dillhole?
What's this? Oh, my God! It's a dank, forbidding alleyway! Hooray! I think I can even make out a few Convenient Shipping Pallets Of Grave Bodily Injury lurking in the background, ready to pounce. Aw, guys. Sniff. You shouldn't have. Piper crouches behind a pile of fetid trash, anxiously eyeing whatever it is that's unleashing those tormented howls of agony and distress we hear on the soundtrack. Raige orbs in with Phoebe, and the two tiptoe across puddles of filth to join their sister. "Let's vanquish this demon!" Raige enthuses. "Eh," Piper notes with more than a hint of distaste coloring her tone, "he beat us to the punch," and the shot shifts to take in the reptilian monster currently snacking on the aforementioned demon's entrails. The monster paws through the demon's sucking chest wound for a bit to extract something we don't see, and places that something in a small pouch. The demon's head drops to one side, and his body presently disintegrates down through the pavement, presumably on its way to The Waste Land. The monster rises to its feet as Raige hisses, "What is it?" Piper doesn't want to hang around long enough to learn the answer to that question, and the three back up slowly to orb out. Unfortunately, they make a bit of a racket doing so, and the monster super-speeds to their end of the alleyway to hurl Phoebe and Raige backwards through the air into yet another pile of trash. Piper deploys the Hands of Discontent, then shrieks in fright when the resulting mojo explodes harmlessly on the surface of the monster's skin. It does seem to stun the thing momentarily, though, so she flings her Hands a few more times while backing away in an attempt to flee. Phoebe urgently calls for Raige to "do something." Raige spots an appropriately battered transformer above and behind Piper's head and shouts, "Power lines!" One of said lines breaks free from its base in a shower of sparks, and proceeds to flail through the air until its active end makes contact with the monster's head. The monster screams and shrieks while jittering about before exploding in a spray of flame.
Phoebe and Raige leap to their feet to scuttle to Piper's side. Once they confirm she's okay, their attention's diverted by the grunting sounds emanating from a bundle the monster's left behind. The Glamorous Ladies edge down the alleyway to the pile of burlap rags. Piper kneels, gingerly lifts one end of fabric, and discovers a chubby little red-haired infant wriggling about beneath the covering. The redheaded stepchild shocks the Ps when it playfully shoots a forked snake's tongue out of its mouth while in mid-squirm. "Cute," Raige sarcastically notes, with much wrinkling of disgusted nose. The camera cuts back to the redheaded stepchild for one more flicker of his forked tongue before licking its way into the opening credits.
Big Gay Chris is back! And Darryl! Yay! Pity the latter gets an utterly pointless subplot this evening, but it's nice to know both of the boys are alive and well.
Endless Opening Travelogue, with Ovary. The Ovary whines that she "can shine just like whelks do." No, I don't get it, either. Maybe they should start captioning the various Travelogue Ovaries and Testicles, so we can avoid such gross misunderstandings in the future. Then again, I don't really care. Over at the Manor, the redheaded stepchild contentedly gnaws on a teething ring at the bottom of Tiny Gay Chris's product-placed playpen on the sun porch while Phoebe and Raige eye the tot with varying degrees of pity and wariness, respectively. "I can't believe we vanquished its mommy," Phoebe sadly intones. "Mommy tried to kill us," Raige reminds her. "But look at how cute he is!" Phoebe squeals, her uterus throbbing. "So adorable," she sighs, "except when he does that weird little thing with his tongue." Yeah, if Chronic did that weird little thing with his tongue, you'd handcuff yourself to his side, you tramp. Oh, ew. Did I just say that? I'm telling you, the December hiatus cannot arrive quickly enough this year. I'm losing my mind. The two women briefly wonder why the redheaded stepchild appears to be human before Piper clomps in from the hall with news that Tiny Chris is safely ensconced in The Patricia Campbell Hearst Commemorative Child-Care Nook. Not for long, hon.
No sooner have the words left Piper's lips than Tiny Gay Chris orbs down to join the redheaded stepchild in the product-placed playpen. Tongue Boy lobs an adorably gummy grin at Tiny Chris. The freakish sociopath Piper expelled from her loins on Groundhog Day just stares blankly while drooling down the front of his overalls. Creepy-ass motherfucker. Piper frets about her little psycho's proximity to Tongue Boy, but Raige tells her not to worry, as Tongue Boy's "just a baby." "'Scuse me?" Piper squawks. "Were you at the same vanquish I was, because it took all three of us to get rid of his mother!" "It doesn't mean he's going to turn out that way," Raige argues. "He doesn't have a choice," Phoebe notes. "It's genetic." Raige admits that, as an adoptee, she's perhaps "a little biased," but she doesn't believe that biology determines destiny. Raige, honey? Wrong! Had you argued that, as a woman who devoted a good deal of her adult life to the welfare of various underage unfortunates at THE BLACK HOLE OF SOCIAL SERVICES, you don't believe biology determines destiny, I'd go along with it. However, your odd biology did determine your destiny, and your untidy adoption history has nothing to do with it at all. Whatever! Piper duhs, "This is not a child -- it's a demon." "Fine!" Raige snots, waving her hands around in the air for a bit before suggesting Phoebe activate her Fucking Backup Band to see if she can pick up anything dark and demonic nestled deep within the kid's soul. Phoebe does so, and after a moment is forced to admit that she senses "nothing, good or evil." "My point exactly!" Raige crows triumphantly. "Clay to be molded!" Oy. I think Raige needs the post-sweeps hiatus as much as I do. Piper remains unconvinced and more than a little unsettled with this latest turn of events, but neither she nor Phoebe has any idea how to proceed.
Big Gay Chris orbs in at this point both to further the plot along with a few ideas of his own and to pretty up the place. He's not immediately successful with the former task. With the latter, however, the effect upon his entrance is instantaneous. Woof. He's wearing a sleek black t-shirt with a festive cluster of rainbow-colored fireworks emblazoned across the chest -- go figure -- and he's sporting a pair of khakis that show off his perky behind to great advantage. Sigh. "Did you vanquish the demon?" he asks. Sort of, the gals reply. While the demon Big Chris sicced them on certainly is gone for good, the thing that ate it left behind a little present for the Manor Morons. Big Chris tosses a harassed glance over his shoulder at the playpen's occupants. Tongue Boy's eyes light up, and he flickers his forked tongue directly at Big Gay Chris. "I think he likes you!" Raige perks. No shit. Back off, you little bitch. I don't care if you are five months old -- nobody makes a pass like that at my husband. To his credit, Big Chris snaps, "I don't care! Vanquish it!" Atta boy. "We are not vanquishing a baby!" Raige yowls. "What's wrong with you?" Big Chris scowls that Tongue Boy might be "the future evil that gets to" his tiny self, and you know what? I'm no longer of the opinion that The Done One is Big Gay Chris's significantly younger alter ego -- mainly because I've already seen week's promo -- so The Reign Of The Chrises is officially over as far as these recaps are concerned. While the regulars on the forum boards have offered many amusing alternate monikers for The Done One, the most amusing, "Tickle-Me Dolt," is far too warm and squishy a nickname for the icy, dead-eyed sociopath we've all come to loathe and fear. I'll be going with The Doltine Psycho for now, but feel free to contribute your suggestions on our boards.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah: The four argue about vanquishing Tongue Boy for a bit until the telephone rings. Raige, displeased with Big Gay Chris and his ardent exhortations favoring infanticide, sneers her way off the sun porch to answer it. Phoebe shouts that Raige should lie regarding her whereabouts if Chronic pops up on the other end of the line. This leads to chatter about Phoebe's Issue Of The Week, which Piper succinctly phrases as, "You told him that you love him before he told you that he loves you? Not good." Big Chris rolls his eyes around and snits, "What are you going to do?" Phoebe misinterprets this as him, you know, actually giving a shit about her tiresome romance, and starts spouting something about…well, I'm sure it was important, but honestly? I no longer have the strength to listen to her anymore. Big Gay Chris places his hands on his hips and gets huffy. "I meant the baby!" he seethes. "We gotta do something." As if in response to this, Tongue Boy unfurls said tongue and licks up The Doltine Psycho's pacifier from halfway across the playpen. Heh. Big Gay Chris dejectedly eyes the contented Tongue Boy in the pen as Phoebe and Piper glance uneasily around the room.
Meanwhile, Raige has a lovely chat with Darryl on the cordless in the kitchen. Darryl's storyline this evening is precisely as pointless as those ludicrous subplots were two weeks ago, so I'll be giving it as much ink as it deserves -- which is to say, as little as I can get away with without being fired. Deal. Darryl's supervising a hostage situation at a post office branch elsewhere in the city. The gun-toting perp is an acquaintance whom Darryl would like to see walk out alive. He begs Raige for help. No, we don't learn how Darryl knows the perp; nor do we discover why Darryl believes the guy's worth saving, nor do we ever hear the fucker's name, but whatever. Raige assures Darryl she'll be right over, and grabs a set of car keys from the rack.
Back on the sun porch, Piper plays peek-a-boo with The Doltine Psycho in order to lay the groundwork for a crucial bit of business at the end of the hour. This particular variety of peek-a-boo, by the way, involves Piper covering her eyes to sing, "Where's [The Doltine Psycho]?" before removing her hands from her face and crying, "There he is!" "I don't think distracting him is the answer," Big Chris grumbles, turning his back to Piper in frustration so we can all bask in the glory of his khakied ass. Piper shifts tactics, pointing to Tongue Boy and scolding, "Very bad demon!" The Doltine Psycho masks his bloody thoughts with an impassive gaze. Tongue Boy, meanwhile, happily jaws on another toy at the other end of the pen. Raige enters to announce the details of Darryl's pointless subplot, and flies out the front door. "You're just going to let her go?" Big Chris splutters. "You're welcome to try to stop her," Piper mildly replies. Phoebe rises to exit as well, muttering something about Chronic. "And her, too," Piper smirks. Big Chris blocks Phoebe's path and rages, "Are you not concerned that there's a demon in the house?" "It's a baby," she patronizes before sailing past him into the hall. Chris wheels around to Piper to spit, "And you're okay with them dumping this in your lap like that?" Piper's all, "Sweetheart. Sugar britches. Second son. It's what my sisters have been doing to me for the last five years. Why should it start bothering me now?" Or maybe she just rolls her shoulders around and notes, "They don't seem to be worried about it." Big Chris glances uneasily at Tongue Boy one last time before heading to the attic to abuse the Book of Shadows. "I need to figure out what kind of creature we're dealing with here," he pissily snips over his shoulder.
Back in the dank, forbidding alleyway, a cowled figure with a massive hunchback slinks barefoot through the puddles of filth, growling to himself. His feet, by the way, are repugnant. Even for feet. They're lumpy and misshapen, with yellowed claws for nails. Yick. We catch a few glimpses of Grandpa-Toes's face, and it's pretty much a cross between Nosferatu and Vincent from the Linda Hamilton version of Beauty And The Beast. Of course, there's much more Vincent than Dracula, so we all know where this is going. The Hunchback Of Not!re Lame pads through the alleyway until he reaches Tongue Boy's discarded swaddling rags. The Hunchback of Not! clutches the shreds of cloth in his paws and roars at the sky.
All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. Phoebe barges through the swinging glass doors and assaults a somewhat fey assistant with questions regarding Chronic's whereabouts. Somewhat Fey replies that Chronic's barricaded himself in his office, and notes the boss left strict instructions that Phoebe be denied entry. "Did you two have a fight?" Somewhat Fey wonders with exaggeratedly concerned eyebrows. Phoebe slams her purse into his chest and sneers, "We're about to." She clomps over to Chronic's door and flings it open to discover he's actually in a meeting with the trio of Mediterranean types from whom he's purchasing his grandfather's NOBODY CARES! NOT! ONE! SINGLE! PERSON! Shut UP, Chronic! GOD! "I'm sorry," Phoebe splutters. "I didn't know you were in a meeting." "Yeah," Chronic bristles. "That's why the door was closed." "Really?" she fumes. "Because I was told it was closed specifically for me!" Oh, my God! He's is a goddamned meeting, you selfish, bonehead shrew, and these people didn't haul their tired asses all the way from Europe just to listen to you bitch. Fucking hag! Christ! Chronic offers a few excuses in Italian to the befuddled Mediterraneans, then barks, "Outside!" at the Feebs.
Once in the main office, Phoebe sort-of apologizes again, both for interrupting his meeting and for her odd behavior at the restaurant. She'd like to hash things out between the two of them, and Chronic's down with that until she suggests they meet that evening. Chronic begs off, claiming he's got a last-minute business trip to Rome, so Phoebe gets loud. As in "really loud." As in "my eardrums have now burst and geysers of blood are spurting from the sides of my head" loud. "I'VE HEARD OF GUYS RUNNING WHEN THEY HEAR THE L-WORD," she shrieks, "BUT RUNNING ALL THE WAY TO ITALY? THAT'S GOT TO BE SOME NEW KIND OF RECORD!" "It's got nothing to do with that, and you know it," Chronic hisses, trying to get her to dial it down a notch. "That's a crock!" she screams. "We both know how you feel about me! The only difference is, I'm not the one who's afraid of it." She glares at him for a moment before sarcastically perking, "Ciao!" Phoebe blows past Chronic as Chronic pouts. Again, less with the emoting and more with the shutting up, asshole.
Back on the sun porch, Big Gay Chris has returned from the attic with the Book of Shadows and some relevant information. Piper observes him wearily as Big Chris reads, "Vicious demons with supernatural strength and venomous claws, Manticores communicate in high-pitched cries and tend to travel in packs." Chris, dude. That entry could easily refer to the Glamorous Ladies. Are you sure you didn't just scribble it down out of spite for their ongoing treatment of you? Hmmm? He ignores me to frost Piper with a withering, "Great!" before suggesting they "get rid of the little brat before the pack comes looking for him." Piper rolls her eyes and sarcastically wonders if they should have THE BLACK HOLE OF SOCIAL SERVICES fetch the tot from the Manor. "No," Big Chris retorts, speaking to her as if she were a particularly obstinate and stupid child, "I suggest you vanquish him." Piper claims that as a mother, she's incapable of offing infants, even if they are of demonic extraction. So if she had remained barren, she'd have no problem impaling newborns on spikes? That makes sense. Not. Big Chris crosses from the table to plant his pretty self right in front of her and urges, "You gotta stop looking at him like he's a little baby, and start looking at him like he's an unstoppable killing machine." "But still," Piper dodges uneasily, avoiding his eyes. "'But still' nothing," he shoots back. "You're supposed to protect the innocents," he reminds her. "Think of all the future innocents you can save by vanquishing him right now." "Don't you think I know that?" she demands a bit helplessly. "I'm scared to death of what he could possibly do to [The Doltine Psycho], but I can't even separate them." "There's one thing you can do, and you know it," Big Chris rather vaguely insists, laying it on the line. "And you better do it fast before any other Manticores show up. There's no known vanquishing potion." "I just…can't," Piper admits finally. Big Chris sighs in frustration, and orbs out to fetch the Dolt in the hope that he can beat some sense into his ex-wife.
Piper exhales and turns her attention back to the playpen, where The Doltine Psycho mimics her earlier gestures by covering his soulless eyes with his homicidal hands. Tongue Boy responds by beaming with glee, sneezing, and squiggling out. Piper arches a brow in surprise. When The Doltine Psycho removes his hands from his face, Tongue Boy squiggles back in. They repeat this, and Piper allows herself a small smile.
Darryl's Big Fat Stupid Subplot. The S.W.A.T. team tears into the parking lot and scampers into position just ahead of Raige's arrival. She'd driven over, because orbing "could have been more magic than [Darryl] had in mind." Whatever. Long story short, Darryl wants to chat with the perp without getting shot, so Raige wings the following spell:
Blessed with powers from my destiny,
I bless this hero with invincibility.
The force of some unseen mojo whomps Darryl in his stomach, and he takes a few steps back before recovering to admit, "It feels real good." "Go get him, tough guy," Raige smiles, so Darryl's off like a prom dress. He strides up to the post office's glass doors and orders the perp to drop his weapon. The perp responds by squeezing off three rounds that in no way shatter the glass doors in front of him. The bullets proceed to bounce harmlessly off Darryl's torso and arm. Darryl eyes the spent slugs on the walkway for a second before heading in. Raige, pleased with herself, turns to leave. What a fucking waste of time and money.
High atop the Golden Gate Bridge's northern support tower, the Dolt meditates with eyes closed and arms outstretched. Oh, fine. Scratch that. Brian Krause stands with eyes closed and arms outstretched in front of a green screen while a giant fan blows in his face, and at some later point the effects department inserted an image of bridge behind him. However, it's fairly well done, so I'm not going to bitch. Much. Big Gay Chris orbs onto the tower with an exasperated "I have been looking everywhere for you!" Suddenly realizing where he is, Big Chris glances about a bit apprehensively and asks, "What are you doing up here?" "Communing with the others," is the Dolt's serene reply. Zip it, moron. Big Chris warily leans over to gaze at the road deck far below and wonders, "Can anyone see us?" "Not me," the Dolt replies with a grin, "but you look like a lunatic standing up here talking to yourself." "Whaddyawant?" the Dolt then mumbles. "It's Piper," Big Chris replies, and at that, the Dolt finally opens his eyes. "Is she all right?" "She's fine," Big Chris assures him before casually adding, "Just out of curiosity, what's the [ever-useless] Elders' policy on vanquishing demon babies?" "Why?" the Dolt side-eyes suspiciously. "No reason," Big Chris shrugs. "There's just one playing with [The Doltine Psycho] as we speak." The Dolt gapes.
Attic. Piper totes The Doltine Psycho in from the hall and places him in his attic enclosure with strict instructions not to orb back down to Tongue Boy. Tongue Boy gets around the ban by squiggling up from the sun porch to land to The Doltine Psycho. "I give up," Piper mutters as Phoebe hustles up the stairs to blare something about her stupid relationship with Chronic. Piper warns that if whatever she's about to do to Tongue Boy doesn't work, Phoebe won't be alive long enough to care. Am I a horrible person for praying that Piper fails? I'm not? Didn't think so. Incidentally, the longer Piper's had to ponder the whole situation, the less inclined to vanquish Tongue Boy she's become. "Something just doesn't add up about him," she admits to Phoebe, adding that if Tongue Boy were truly a threat, The Doltine Psycho would long ago have erected his Icy Blue Shield Of Calculating Self-Preservation. This sets Phoebe off for some reason, and she bustles across the attic to remove The Doltine Psycho from the enclosure, all the while shrieking at Tongue Boy to stay away from her nephew. Tongue Boy scrunches his cute little face into a wrinkly ball and unleashes that "high-pitched cry" Big Chris read about from the Book. "Put him back down!" Piper panics. Phoebe does so while dimly wondering why. Her answer arrives in the form of the squiggling Hunchback Of Not!re Lame, who materializes behind her to pimp-smack her across the attic into Piper. The two women continue to fly across the room, taking out a book-laden table over by the front windows. The Hunchback Of Not! tries to snatch Tongue Boy from the enclosure, but The Doltine Psycho deploys his Icy Blue Shield Of Coldly Calculating Self-Preservation, zapping the beast's fingers. Piper leaps to her feet to batter The H Of Not! with a few mostly ineffective blasts from the Hands Of Discontent, all the while seething, "Get away from my kid!" H Of Not! squiggles out, only to rematerialize directly behind her. With a roar, he envelops her in his arms and squiggles away. Phoebe inhales sharply and bugs her eyes straight out into the commercial break.
Attic. Aftermath. Phoebe scries fruitlessly for Piper as Raige strides in from the stairwell with an icepack for Phoebe's neck and apologies for not returning to the Manor sooner. She glances over at the enclosure to note that Tongue Boy has fallen asleep. The Doltine Psycho's empty gaze creeps her out as much as it does me, so she quickly continues across the room to pass the ice pack to the Feebs. Phoebe opines that the thing now in possession of Piper was "more beast-like" than your average Manticore, but neither of the gals can figure out why he squiggled into the attic as soon as Tongue Boy unleashed the Manticore shriek. Raige crosses to a low table and proceeds to putter around with the potion ingredients. As she tosses a pinch of something into the pot, she muses that the non-Manticore beast likely has Piper locked away somewhere "magically cloaked" and intends to use her as "leverage" in subsequent negotiations for Tongue Boy. Big Gay Chris and the Dolt finally orb in from the bridge, and the four engage in a hushed conversation regarding their current predicament. Why hushed? They don't want Tongue Boy to wake up and alert "half the Manticores in San Francisco" to his presence in the Manor, of course. Pay attention. "I am not convinced that baby is inherently evil," Raige contends, "which means he's probably not even responsible for any of this." "Come on!" Big Chris wails, turning to the Dolt for support. The Dolt heaves a sigh and approaches Raige with, "Not everyone is born morally neutral, especially not demons. They're predisposed to evil." "Predisposed, yeah," Raige pffts, "but it doesn't mean they can't be raised to overcome it. You can't predict whether a kid is going to be good or evil based on his genetics." "You guys?" Phoebe interrupts. "This is all irrelevant. We need the baby to find Piper, so let's just focus on that." The Dolt dolts across the room to orb his bloodthirsty little lunatic up to Whitelighterland. Phoebe and Raige fret that, should Tongue Boy awaken and find The Doltine Psycho gone, they'll be in a horrible position, what with Manticores pouring in through every window and such. They eventually relent, though, and the Dolt and Big Gay Chris orb upwards through the ceiling with The Doltine Psycho. Phoebe and Raige hustle over to the table to complete whatever damn potion it is they're concocting this time.
The camera cuts away to pan across the ruins of the interior of some random house elsewhere in the city. Furniture's either overturned or stacked haphazardly, and many of the windows appear to be broken. Over at the foot of the staircase, Piper sits with her hands tied behind her back, evidently secured to the lowest part of the banister. The Hunchback Of Not!re Lame darts around in the shadows, watching her. Piper catches sight of him in the corner of her eye, and rather calmly calls out, "Hello? Who's there?" "I want the child!" The H Of Not! growls from the darkness. Piper mildly replies that she sort of figured that one out herself. The H Of Not! scuttles to another corner of the house and warns, "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you don't do as I ask." Piper, who's been surreptitiously futzing with the ropes binding her wrists, smirks, "Who are you kidding? You need me, otherwise I'd already be dead." "Don't mock me!" The H Of Not! snarls, emerging into the general gloom of the main room, and now that we've seen his whole head, I can safely say I've seen grosser-looking creatures on Star Trek. The Shatner version of Star Trek. A scattering of wispy white hair sprouts from the top of his head, and his scalp is rather lopsidedly ridged. His skin has a greenish cast to it, but that's more likely an effect of the low lighting than anything else. All in all, not too scary. They are, however, funneling Seth Peterson's voice through a processor during all of this, so he does sound appropriately menacing. Anyway, Piper soothes, "Easy!" before wondering, "You're not a Manticore, so why do you want the kid?" "How'd you get him away from his mother, anyway?" The H Of Not! counters, not answering her question. "We vanquished her," Piper casually confirms, still working at those ropes behind her back. "You have no idea what you've done," he groans, taking a few steps towards her. She replies that they saved a baby from one demon, and she'll be damned if she's handing it over to another. "Then you'll die," he rasps. "The hell I will," Piper retorts with cocked brow. She finally unleashes a couple of Fingers of Discontent on her bonds, and they snap apart. She then flings both Hands in The H Of Not!'s direction, detonating something behind him that unleashes a smothering cloud of dust. Thus temporarily veiled from his sight, Piper scrambles to the front door, but the moment she gets within a couple of inches of the knob, an invisible shield sparks up and hurls her backwards through the air. She shrieks and scampers into the room over to crouch behind something large. What? I have no idea what it is. It's too goddamned dark in there. Leave me alone.
Darryl's Big Fat Stupid Subplot. First, the hostages race out of the post office, followed shortly by a triumphant Darryl, who lugs along the cuffed perp. The ZIP Code on the post office, by the way, is glaring and inexplicable "." I sincerely doubt they shot these scenes in Kentucky, but then again, I don't care. Darryl high-fives various cops on his way to a patrol car. Once there, he tosses the perp against the trunk and rips the back door clean off with his super-strength. Then, he flings the perp into the back seat, across the back seat, and out the other side of the car, blasting the other back door off in the process. Well, actually the perp blasted that door off, and why he's still alive, I'll never know, but again: Not caring. Darryl begins to freak. Yawn.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Piper wordlessly surveys the room she's stumbled across and discovers the shoddy, dirty trappings of a makeshift nursery, including various toys. She also finds a photograph of Seth Peterson looking rather doable, despite the shattered pane of glass that somewhat obscures his features. The Hunchback Of Not!re Lame silently pads up behind Piper and grabs her, spinning her around. "Last chance," he warns, panting in her face. "Help me get the child or die!" "What are you doing with this?" she calmly asks, twirling around one of the toys she's found. The H of Not! growls and pitches her across the room onto the bed. He advances upon her, howling, "Do you have a death wish? I've come too far -- I've gone through too much to lose him now! Don't make me kill you!" "What are you waiting for?" she challenges. "Get it over with." They stare each other down until The H of Not! naturally loses his nerve. He does threaten her, though, with "I can do worse than kill you. I can keep you here forever. You'll never see your child again. Think about it." And with that, he squiggles out. Piper ponders this while twiddling the found toy around in her fingers.
Attic. Phoebe and Raige complete "the most powerful potion [they've] ever made." As Raige distills some of it into a few vials, Phoebe's cell phone rings. It's Chronic, of course, wanting to chat about their stupid relationship. She vaguely begs off, he gets frustrated, and she gets loud. Again. Tongue Boy wakes up to her shrieking, and responds with some of his own. Phoebe hastily flips her phone shut, and Raige barely has enough time to toss her a vanquishing vial before the first Manticore squiggles into the room. The thing immediately knocks Raige across the floor, so Phoebe hurls her vial at it. Flames erupt at its feet, and while they take a while to catch hold, they do eventually engulf the monster. Two more Manticores almost instantly squiggle in behind Phoebe and flip her across the attic to join Raige on the carpet. As the monsters advance upon the dazed and defenseless Ps, The Hunchback of Not!re Lame squiggles in behind them. The H Of Not! flattens one of them with a swipe of his paw, then digs his fist into the other's chest. The two creatures remain locked in this manner for a long moment before The H of Not! sharply withdraws his hand. The Manticore howls and vanishes in a gout of flame. Meanwhile, its flattened pack-mate has been busily oozing yellow slime onto the floorboards. It raises its head, takes one look at The H of Not!, and squiggles out. The H of Not! lumbers across the room to gather up Tongue Boy as Raige shouts for Phoebe to fetch the remaining vanquishing vial. Phoebe does so, and manages to shatter the thing on The H of Not!'s hump. The vial explodes, ripping open a garish, bloody gash in The H of Not!'s flesh. He offers one final growl before squiggling away with Tongue Boy. "So much for our leverage," Phoebe breathes. Raige broods as we tear into the break.
H of Not! Estates. Piper flings her Hands repeatedly at the barrier shielding the front door, and it eventually splutters and shuts itself off. Piper tentatively twists on the knob to find herself in the middle of a quiet suburban street. Noises emerge from the bedroom behind her, and, rather than escaping, Piper turns to reenter the house. The grievously injured Hunchback of Not!re Lame's comforting Tongue Boy on the bed. "It's all right," he coos as best he can with that raspy voice of his. "You're home now." He glances nervously back at Piper, who stands silently in the hall, watching.
Attic. Raige uses an eyedropper to siphon up some of the yellow ooze from the floorboards. "This better work," she mutters, passing the thing to the Feebs. The Dolt and Big Gay Chris orb in to reveal the ever-useless Elders have agreed that if they can't return Tongue Boy to the Manticores, the Glamorous Ladies will have to vanquish him. "Talk about your moot points," Raige grumbles wearily. Phoebe directs the Dolt's attention to the now-empty enclosure. The Dolt and Big Gay Chris prepare to bang their heads together to come up with another plan, but Phoebe and Raige already have one. They intend to scry for the Manticore's location and orb on over to offer them a deal. Either the monsters agree to work with Phoebe and Raige to vanquish The H of Not!, thereby getting their kid back with Piper returned safely to the Manor, or Phoebe and Raige will blow them all up. Big Chris finds this plan far too risky, but Phoebe and Raige claim they have no other choice. Phoebe dribbles a bit of the yellow ooze onto her crystal and scries for the Manticore's den.
H of Not! Estates. The gentlebeast of the manor winces in pain as Piper dabs a salve on the gaping wound in his hump. Piper notes that he's lucky -- if Raige and Phoebe used the potion she believes they used, The H of Not! should have flown into a million pieces. The H of Not! interrupts the chit-chat to howl in pain. "Show a little spine," Piper chides. "What kind of a demon are you?" "I'm not a demon," he admits, like, duh. We know. Could you move it along, please? "I saw a picture of a man in the bedroom," Piper leads. "Is that why you're helping me?" he retorts. Well, yeah. Piper's a single gal, and your human form is hot, so why the hell not? "You think this is some sort of hideous curse?" he rants. "Well, it's not!" He charges towards the bedroom door to gaze upon Tongue Boy. "Just leave us," he sighs wearily. "'Us'?" she inquires. "You mean, you and your son?" "What happened?" she asks gently, crossing to his side, and hoo boy, here we go with the goddamned exposition again. Isn't this episode over yet? Fuck it. The H of Not! reveals that "Manticores mate with humans to create hybrids so they can blend in [and] hide in plain sight." "They kill their mates after conception," he adds, "but I got away." He also vowed never to allow them to raise his child, and I'm sorry, but number one, how did he know he actually knocked up a Manticore, and number two, how in hell did he knock up a Manticore in the first place? I mean, unless he's got a thing for scaly, flat-chested lizards, I'd assume he'd have had a few performance issues. Whatever. It's never explained, and I'd like to finish this recap before my eighty-seventh birthday, so pay no attention to the yawning plot hole, okay? The "only chance" The H Of Not! had to rescue his son, he explains, was to turn himself into the beast Piper now sees before her. He just started mixing potions, you see, heedless of the effect they might have on him -- all he cared about was regaining custody of his son. Piper gazes at the adorable guest infant mewling on his pillow before softly reminding The H of Not!, "You know they're going to try to take him back." The H of Not! nods his head. "So, let's get you fixed up," Piper offers, "so we can fight them together." The H of Not! gets all verklempt at her kindness.
Lair Of The Manticore. Phoebe and Raige orb into a corner of the cave to find four or five of the pack munching on something that's bloody and raw. Raige clears her throat, and the Manticores immediately leap to their feet to bare their teeth and shriek and such. Phoebe warns them off by brandishing a couple of fists full of vanquishing vials. "So," she too-brightly perks, "who wants to go hunting with us?" The monsters grunt.
H of Not! Estates. Piper notes with growing alarm that nothing's stopping the bleeding. She offers to escort him back to the Manor for some of the Whitelighter tingly touch, but The H of Not! demands they remain where they are, as the Manticores are certain to look for him and his son over at Piper's. The H of Not! also insists that he can't revert to his human form unless, of course, he dies first. "How are you going to raise him?" she asks softly. The H of Not! confesses that he never intended to raise the kid on his own. After he'd taken care of the Manticore threat, he intended to pass Tongue Boy on to someone he trusted. The H of Not! lumbers to his feet to escape the conversation, but Piper stops him with a gentle hand on his forearm. "You can't run forever," she notes. "Not for long. Not with that," she adds, indicating his wound with a lift of her brows. "And who's gonna save [Tongue Boy] when you're dead?" "You have a way with words, you know that?" he concedes with something approaching a rueful grin. "I ad-lib a lot," she smiles fondly. They chuckle just as Raige orbs in with Phoebe. Phoebe and Raige hurl vials at The H of Not!, but Piper intercepts them in mid-air with her Hands, and the things explode harmlessly. "What are you doing?" Raige squeals as three Manticores squiggle into the room. Two of the monsters manhandle H of Not! into the adjacent bedroom as the remaining one super-speeds Piper over to her sisters. Raige orbs out as the sounds of a brutal ass-kicking fill the house. We cut over to the bedroom to find the Manticores working H of Not! over with their "venomous claws" as Tongue Boy wails in infantile despair.
Manor. Raige orbs in with Piper and Phoebe by the front door, and the camera races down the hallway to Piper's frantic face as she orders Raige to orb them back immediately. Piper dissolves, and…
…the gals reappear at H of Not! Estates to discover a dying hunchback and no Tongue Boy. Piper breathes, "Oh, no," and rushes over to kneel at his side. H of Not!, his misshapen head covered in bloody gashes, struggles to breathe for a bit before passing out. A golden glow erupts from his body, and he morphs down into Seth Peterson, whose cheekbones could quite honestly make lepers whole again. Wow. He's even prettier than Big Gay Chris. Raige and Phoebe glance at each other, clueless, as Piper frets her way into the final commercial break.
If it's horribly wrong to laugh and laugh and laugh as that idiot toddler prepares to drown herself in the backyard pool while her babysitter's getting baked, I never want to be right. Just thought I'd share.
Manor. Raige arrives in the parlor with Piper, Phoebe, and Seth, and Piper immediately summons the Dolt for some of his extra-special tingly touch. The Dolt orbs in with Big Gay Chris at his side, and immediately hovers over the dying hunk on the couch. Seth's face glows as the gals get the boys up to speed on recent developments. Raige heads to the attic to fill more vanquishing vials as Big Chris expresses outrage that they'd even consider risking their lives again to save a demonic infant. "That's my son," Seth corrects him, sitting up on the sofa, delighted to find himself human again. "Aren't you glad you didn't kill me now?" Piper grins. Seth looks chagrined as the Dolt babbles, "Not funny! I don't think that's funny!" "Agreed!" Big Chris chimes in, leading Phoebe to snort, "What, are you two, like, on the same team now?" No, nimrod. The Dolt will never be on Chris's team, because Chris's team is my team, and if the Dolt even considers switching sides, I'll kill him with my bare hands. "We're gonna get your baby back," she assures Seth. "I promise." "Do we not have a say in this?" Big Chris pouts. "No, we don't," the Dolt allows. "One thing you gotta learn about being their Whitelighter is that once they make up their mind, that's it." "Besides," the Dolt adds, grinning amiably at Seth, "I'm a father first." Big Gay Chris smiles to himself as if he's deeply happy the Dolt's finally uttered those words in his presence. Hmmm. "We're going to have to separate the baby before the attack," Phoebe warns Seth, and I'll just assume she meant they'll have to separate the baby from the monsters, not rip the poor little sprog limb from limb. "Why?" Seth wonders. Piper reminds him that the potion vanquishes Manticores. As his son's a half-breed, if any of it splashes on him, he's on his merrily blazing way down to Hell with the rest of them. Sweet Seth gets this "oh, shit" look on his face.
Lair of the Manticores. The Manticores sleep. Tongue Boy's awake and rather bouncy, though, which is good news for the gals, who orb into the corner of the cave again. Raige wonders if she should just summon the kid with her orbing telekinesis. Piper doesn't think that's a good idea, as he'd likely just squiggle back, thereby creating even more problems than they already have. The Ps pass around vials before Piper starts in with her peek-a-boo routine from the top of the hour. The other Manticores slowly wake up and flick their tongues in the air -- nice touch, by the way -- as Tongue Boy plays right along with Piper and squiggles out. The ladies immediately hurl their vials, and soon enough, the half dozen or so monsters are gone. Tongue Boy squiggles back in and makes happy gurgling noises. The Glamorous Ladies hustle over to the kid, and Piper hoists him into the air to offer some positive reinforcement. "So much for nature over nurture," Raige smirks. The gals grin goofily as Piper tickles the kid's stomach, making him squirm around with delight. Aw.
A very pretty closing travelogue takes up back to the Manor, where the grim Doltine Psycho blankly observes his fief from the depths of his playpen. Sweet Seth, meanwhile, beams at Tongue Boy, who's teething on another of The Doltine Psycho's chew toys. Piper eases a stroller packed with baby clothes onto the sun porch, and offers it all to Sweet Seth. "You sure you don't mind?" he asks. "Not at all," she assures him. "[The Doltine Psycho's] outgrown them all, and I don't see myself having any more kids anytime soon, so…" Yeah, replace "anytime soon" with "until May sweeps at the earliest," and you'll be right on target, honey. Sweet Seth thanks her for everything she's done while wishing he could return the favor. Raige ambles in from the dining room to perk, "Well, you could tell us your name -- unless you prefer being called 'The Beast.'" Seth grins and notes that his name's Derek before realizing he hasn't yet had a chance to name Tongue Boy, what with all the fighting and everything. Tongue Boy chooses this moment to squiggle from The Doltine Psycho's playpen into his new stroller. The Ps coo at this precocious display as the telephone rings. Raige exits to answer, allowing Piper a final moment with Sweet Seth. Or Darling Derek. Whatever. He's cute, is all I'm saying. She extends an offer to bind Tongue Boy's powers should Sweet Seth ever feel the need. Sweet Seth's response is immediate: "No! I mean, thanks, but it's not necessary. He's a good boy," Sweet Seth vows, smiling down at his son. "It's just up to me to make sure he stays that way." "Well," Piper allows, "he's in good hands." They share a silent moment, during which I'm convinced Sweet Seth's going to ask her out on a date, and he totally should, because he's totally gorgeous, and they'd make a terrific couple, but no. He thanks her again and leaves just as Raige groans herself back in from the kitchen. She forgot to reverse Darryl's spell.
Cut to Darryl's Big Fat Stupid Subplot. His office at Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World, is a shattered mess of broken doorknobs and filing cabinets and furniture. Whatever.
All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. Phoebe wanders in and gazes sadly at Chronic's empty, darkened office, only to find him ambling through the swinging glass doors when she turns to leave. They banter about his cancelled trip to Rome and how that might affect the sale of his grandfather's NO ONE CARES! DO YOU HEAR ME? NO ONE! SHUT UP, CHRONIC! SHUT! UP! Chronic finally admits that he's not afraid of what he feels for the Feebs, but he is alarmed that she always seems to be aware of those feelings long before he understands them himself. She apologizes. He basically repeats what Piper said a few episodes ago -- that he wants to be able to express himself in his own time -- and as they move in for a clinch, he admits he loves her, I fall into a coma, and we fade to black.
week, we head to the future for a little backstory on my husband and discover that The Doltine Psycho's grown up to become Mangy Jesus. It's the last episode before the mid-season hiatus, so savor it. Heh. "Savor." I really have to cut that shit out.