Spooky graphics materialize in the darkness of my television screen as Rose McGowan intones, "Previously on Charmed." The hell? Whatever. If I'm spared the usual endlessly awkward exchanges of expository banter because of this nearly unprecedented use of a "previously" segment, it's fine by me. So, previously on Charmed, Elise Rothman, Girl Editor ordered Phoebe to haul her bony ass and dykey haircut to Hong Kong, Slampiece Buttfuck urged Raige to move into Castle Montanague, LesBianca and Big Gay Chris bitched at each other, the audience learned that Big Gay Chris is not The Doltine Psycho all grown up, the audience also learned that The Doltine Psycho eventually becomes the power-mad and oddly hot Mangy Jesus, LesBianca got sporked, Big Gay Chris trapped himself in the past, and the Glamorous Ladies went their separate ways.
In a spare lumber warehouse, Piper -- who's wearing multiple layers of loose-fitting clothing under a massive scarf to hide the fact that Holly Marie Combs is, like, fourteen months pregnant -- twiddles her thumbs and idly shifts her weight from one leg to the other as an irritated Big Gay Chris paces impatiently behind her. "She's supposed to be here by now," Big Chris grumbles. Seems Raige was to join them for a vanquish and has yet to appear. It also seems this is not the first time that's happened in the last month or so. Raige, according to Chris, has been slacking off on her "responsibilities as a Charmed One" ever since she moved out of the Manor, and as a result, Piper's had to handle "the last four vanquishes" by herself. Chris, sweetie? Piper's got another sister, you know, and if the fucking moron in question hadn't hauled her hag ass halfway across the planet to shack up with her tedious boss, Piper wouldn't have had to deal with all these problems alone. Needless to say, however, there will be no criticism of Phoebe this evening. At least, not from Big Gay Chris or Piper. Chris, incidentally, is togged in a fetching light blue shirt featuring a very prominent "2" over his heart. Make of it what you will. And what you will make of it is that Big Gay Chris is The Doltine Psycho's little brother. Because I said so.
Big Gay Chris rants some more about how his mom never should have let Raige and Phoebe move out of the Manor. Piper wearily pivots to face him and tells him to zip it. She has no complaints, she claims, and she's happy for her sisters. "You should be, too," she chides, before cutting to the chase and asking for the skinny on the demon of the week. Big Chris replies that no one knows the demon's name, and adds that the creature is too powerful for Piper to vanquish by herself. Detective Darryl chooses this moment to poke his head through the door and snit, "How much longer is this going to take?" At least another fifty-nine minutes, according to the clock on my VCR. Thanks for making me look, asswipe. Piper glances briefly at Darryl while instructing Chris to fetch the Feebs. As Chris obediently orbs up through the ceiling, Darryl snots, "Where's he going?" Upon hearing the answer, Darryl splutters, "This is the last time I work crowd control for you guys!" before ducking back out the door. Dude, I don't know why you're even talking to them after they killed you in the first damn episode of the season, so whatever. Also: Shut up.
Big Gay Chris presently orbs back in with an ebullient Feebs, who flings her arms in the air, squeals, and smothers Piper in a great big hug. I have to admit, she's looking pretty sharp in that sleek, plum-colored, embroidered silk Chinese-style garment she's sporting. The hair's still ass, though, so I can keep hating her. She also presents Piper with an origami tiger she'd been working on when Chris arrived, like, wrong Asian country, you fucknut. And then, just to piss me off even more, she busts out the following when Piper apologizes for dragging her back to San Francisco: "It's okay. 'If you don't enter the tiger's cave, you may never get the cub,' right?" Blow it out your ass, dimwit. And The Sprightly Mandolin Of Ancient Chinese Secrets can blow it out its ass, too. Piper and Chris apparently agree with me, for they shoot the Feebs some supremely foul side-eyes before Chris peeves, "Can we get the show on the road, here?"
We could, but first we have to head outside for a boring exchange between Darryl and a morbidly obese Teamster about the lumberyard's work stoppage. The lumberyard, for those of you obsessed with such trivial matters, goes by the name of Lipsey and Sons. Darryl counsels patience. "Easy for you to say," the morbidly obese Teamster rifles back. "I've got four mouths to feed!" The other three, presumably, are hidden beneath his dingy sweatshirt. Darryl flusters.
Back inside, Big Gay Chris instructs his feeble-minded aunt to levitate. "When this demon senses your magic," he insists, "it's gonna come fast and hard." And if anyone would know from coming fast and hard, it's Big Gay Chris. Ow! Ew! I'm sorry -- I have no idea where that came from. And as I don't know if I should now giggle or vomit, I'll take this opportunity to point out tonight's first error in logic and/or continuity: If the unnamed demon comes fast and hard when it senses the use of magic, shouldn't it have attacked either of the times Chris orbed in this scene? Well? Shouldn't it? Stupid show. In any event, Piper and Chris step back a bit as Phoebe magically hoists herself into the air. Ominous rumbling sounds erupt from beneath the floorboards as something very large trundles towards Phoebe. A spray of sawdust heralds the arrival of The Mighty Spooge Demon, which bursts from the floor like an emerald-green stream of mucus. The Mighty Spooge morphs its front end into a maw that snaps shut around the levitating Feebs, who hoots and yodels as Piper shrieks and instinctively deploys her Hands Of Discontent.
Outside, Darryl and the Teamsters collectively gape as the sounds of the resulting explosion reach their ears. After a moment, a Spooge-encrusted Piper emerges from the mill to perk, "All clear!" and we slime our way into the opening credits.
No opening travelogue this evening, but we are treated to an odd musical cue as the screen fades up on the Manor's façade: A quick run of notes on a harpsichord, followed by a group of low strings zinging out a steady rhythm as the shot shifts to the kitchen. What an odd choice. Anyway, Piper's at the sink rinsing her hands, while Phoebe, who's changed from her presumably Spooge-encrusted Chinese garment into a flimsy pink robe, offers, "Maybe you should just take me out back and hose me down." Only if it's with a flamethrower, skank. Raige orbs in, babbling apologies for missing the vanquish. Slampiece Buttfuck was a little slow leaving the Castle that morning, so she couldn't orb out any sooner than she did, because she asked Buttfuck not to use his magic for some reason, which means she can't use hers in front of him. Which also apparently means she can't sneak into one of the Castle's many, many rooms, lock the door behind her, and orb out that way. Because she's an idiot, and this show sucks. The gals trade tales of their new lives apart. Unfortunately, this involves another gag-inducing "proverb" from the Feebs, accompanied of course by The Sprightly Mandolin Of Ancient Chinese Secrets. Just...why don't you...rrrgh...auuaugh...SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT! UP!
Ahem. The conversation segues to a topic I actually care about when Phoebe asks how Big Gay Chris is handling the events of the last episode. Piper allows that he seems fine, but she knows he's hiding his true feelings on the matter. Raige adds that Big Chris remains freaked out by what happens in his future, and Piper notes that this means he's more determined than ever to protect The Doltine Psycho from evil. Naturally, this also means he's been scheduling vanquishes every day, which the San Francisco Ps find a wee bit grating. Phoebe confesses that she feels "like a bad sister" for abandoning Piper and Raige, but Piper assures her that everything's fine. She enjoys having the house to herself, not least of all because "everything stays clean" now that she's on her own. On cue, the Spooge bits on the ladies' discarded clothing chitter and slither towards each other. Piper, not noticing, crosses to dump the Spooge-stained clothes into the washer as Phoebe heads upstairs with Raige to find something else to wear. While Piper anally measures out a precise amount of detergent, the commingled Spooge bits crawl out of the washer and slide to the floor to vanish into a heating vent.
Meanwhile, Phoebe and Raige arrive at The Prue Halliwell Memorial Bimbo Boudoir Of Paisley Tit Slings And Other Fashion Atrocities, formerly occupied by Phoebe, and discover that Piper's converted it into a home gym. Heh. Incidentally, dumbass Feebs was in the middle of telling Raige how supremely awesome it is that she, Raige, was born in The Year Of The Ox, and so we receive our second major continuity error of the evening: Raige was born in 1977, The Year Of The Snake; the only Ox year in the 1970s was 1973. Stupid fucking show. ANY-way, Raige proposes they hit her bedroom instead, so the two head over to The Prue Halliwell Memorial Bimbo Boudoir Of Paisley Tit Slings And Other Fashion Atrocities, formerly occupied by Raige, only to learn that Piper's converted that into a nursery. Raige gapes as Phoebe excitedly jiggles over to pet The Doltine Psycho, who's slouched in the Dolt's lap. Big Gay Chris offers some pissy remarks about Phoebe abandoning her family, or something, as the commingled Spooge bits creep out of the vent and crawl onto his sneaker. Chris also chides Raige for missing five vanquishes in a row. Raige whatevers, the Dolt backs his younger son up, and Phoebe wonders when the two boys got "so chummy." The Dolt admits that Chris's obvious devotion to The Doltine Psycho won him over long ago. Chris wiggles his eyebrows in his father's direction as Piper enters to ask Phoebe and Raige what they think of her new living arrangements. They basically tell Piper they much prefer things the way they were, leading Piper to sing, "You guys were the ones who moved out, not me!" Phoebe frowns and wonders, "So, where are my clothes?"
Cut to the attic, where Piper's stowed her sister's belongings in a haphazard stack of boxes. Quite the passive-aggressive, isn't she? I mean, if she didn't want them to leave, why did she give that longwinded speech about legacies and sacrifices at the end of the last episode? Whatever. Raige and Phoebe mopily paw through their things, moaning about how strange it seems to have their lives packed away in the attic. Piper smiles a bit to herself before crossing to examine a pair of red leather go-go boots she plucks from one of the boxes. Phoebe claims they're not hers. Sharp-eyed Raige catches the name on the side of the box they came from, and asks, "'Penny'? As in, Grams Penny?" "I refuse to believe Grams ever wore anything this hot," Phoebe smirks. "Yeah," Piper mumbles in agreement, "I figured her more for steel-toed orthopedics -- the better to kick your ass with." Phoebe snickers and passes the boots to Raige, noting that they're her size. Raige rolls her eyes and grunts in disgust, but she begins to remove her own shoes to try on the boots anyway. "The sixties were, like, the worst fashion era ever," she groans. "Bad clothing," she enumerates as the camera closes in on her. "Bad hair," she continues as the shot cuts to Phoebe. "And extremely questionable personal hygiene," she finishes as the shot shifts back to her face. Was that some sort of sly shout-out? If it was, it was pretty damn funny. However, I'll never know, so let's keep this moving, shall we? Raige yanks the boots' zippers up, enthuses, "They fit!" and promptly vanishes in a puff of smoke. "Um, where'd she go?" Phoebe puzzles as Piper suspiciously darts her eyes around the room.
Raige materializes in what we soon learn is The Prue Halliwell Memorial Bimbo Boudoir Of Paisley Tit Slings And Other Fashion Atrocities, currently occupied by a ludicrously young Grams. A nearby calendar tells us it's January 1967, the strains of a faux-Hendrix guitar riff assault the soundtrack, there are posters of peace signs and rainbows and shit all over the walls, and various gaudy fabrics litter the furniture and floors. You just know the place reeks of patchouli and incense. Hippies suck. The ludicrously young Grams glows in front of a full-length mirror, "adjusting [her] aura." I instantly hate her. While these two exchange introductions and pleasantries, I'll note that Ludicrously Young Grams is played by Kara Zediker of Rock Star and a few episodes of 24. While the Internet Movie Database has no date of birth for the woman, she looks to be roughly thirty years old, which leads us to our third major continuity error of the evening: If Grams were thirty in 1967, that means she was barely thirteen years old when she gave birth to Teeth! in 1950 -- not to mention the fact that she'd have been about nine years old when she was getting it on with Susan Sarandon's ex-husband back in the day. This stupid fucking show sucks. Speaking of stupid fucking things that suck, a scrawny blonde woman darts into the Boudoir and blurts, "The Whitelighters are putting on a light show!" Ack. LYGrams grabs Raige's hand and drags her into the hall, insisting that a stupid fucking light show coordinated by a bunch of stupid fucking Whitelighters for the benefit of a pack of stupid fucking hippies is something not to be missed. Raige wrinkles her face in disdain. I am so with you on that one, doll.
Back in the present-day attic, Piper and Phoebe explain to the best of their respective abilities -- snerk -- what happened to Raige. The Dolt immediately reveals that Grams used to cast spells on her clothing when she was younger, and I'm sorry, but how fucking stupid is that? I'll tell you how fucking stupid that is: It's really, hideously, mind-bendingly stupid. Which brings me to something that's not so much a continuity error as it is a slap in the face to anyone who's watched this show from the beginning -- Grams, as the character has been constructed over the course of several seasons, is too damn wise to cast heedless and ridiculous "Return to Owner" spells on her belongings, and she's too damn WASPy to have been a goddamned hippie. EVER. Now, granted, several people in the forums mentioned this episode was originally intended for Finola Hughes as Patty, as an opportunity for Raige to get to know her mother a little better, which sounds like a nice idea. For whatever reason, though, Finola dropped out. Okay, fine. These things happen. But. The idiots responsible for this mess had more than enough time to do one of the following: Push the time-traveling bits back into the '50s so those scenes would make sense given the established timeline and character of Grams, or scrap the idea for this episode entirely and come up with something different in its place. They chose to do neither of these things, and so the long-suffering Charmed audience is once again tossed into a shitty, shitty, shitty episode for reasons known only to Brad Kern and the dark Satanic majesty he serves.
WHATEVER. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah: The gals are sickened and repulsed that the Dolt knew Grams all those many years ago, Big Gay Chris cuts through the crap to suggest they summon the Actual Corporealized Presence Of Grams to figure out exactly what's going on, and Piper and Phoebe head off for some candles. Scene.
Back in the land of the smelly hippies, Raige, Ludicrously Young Grams, and Robin The Scrawny Blonde watch the stupid fucking light show. Amid a crowd of lice-infested freeloaders, three Whitelighters manipulate a string of orbs above their heads to form a peace sign, a heart, and the symbol for infinity. Ew. One of these Whitelighters is, of course, the Dolt, bedecked in love beads and one of the assiest wigs I've ever seen in a televised entertainment. He looks like Jon Voight circa Midnight Cowboy, which makes me want to call him The Midnight CowDolt for the rest of the recap, but that movie didn't come out until 1970, and besides, it's too much to type. Groovy Dolt it is. The stupid fucking light show ends to general applause and comments like, "Far out," and we head back over to Raige for some exposition. Seems Ludicrously Young Grams is hosting "a magical be-in" at the Manor that evening, and all of the people currently offending every single one of my sensibilities are witches and Whitelighters gathered for the event. When Raige quotes Timothy Leary's "tune in, turn over, drop dead" thing from the actual Human Be-In, Scrawny Robin provides us with a date for these past events -- seems the Human Be-In is scheduled for "tomorrow at Golden Gate Park," so LYGrams's little party must be happening on January 13th. Raige claims she has foreknowledge of future events, and also admits to her orbing abilities. This draws the attention of Groovy Dolt, who sidles over to her with, "Right on. Lay some orbs on us, sister," and Raige tries to summon an 8-track tape but can't because she doesn't have her powers in the past, and the Dolt calls this "performance anxiety" and slings an arm around Raige's waist to offer her "some private coaching" in "an empty room upstairs," and he does so in the sleaziest way imaginable, and it's all so very horrible, and I want to die. Seriously. Somebody -- anybody -- come to Chicago right now and shoot me in the head. Please? Huh? No? Well, fuck you too.
There's so much more of this hippie bullshit, so I'm going to cut to the important bit. Without warning, everyone in the Manor save Scrawny Robin freezes, and a black-clad Jake Busey blinks into the parlor. The Spawn Of Busey, with Scrawny Robin's assistance, intends to, like, kill all the witches and Whitelighters that evening so he can gain control of the Nexus beneath the Manor. Or something like that. Just know that The Spawn Of Busey promises "a massacre." Having thus justified his presence in this episode, The Spawn Of Busey blinks out, and everyone unfreezes, which brings us to yet another major continuity error: Witches don't freeze. This stupid fucking show? Still sucking.
And the suck threatens to become a massive, swirling vortex that shall swallow all known and unknown forms of matter in the universe when Patrick Cassidy arrives at the Manor in his Volkswagen mini-bus to get a little sugar from Ludicrously Young Grams. Seriously, Patrick Cassidy? Easily the worst thing about Longtime Companion. And Smallville, for that matter. And everything else he's ever been in with the exception of Charmed, because the worst thing about Charmed is the stupid fucking writing staff. Proof? This evening's major continuity error. Patrick Cassidy's playing "Allen Halliwell," LYGrams's husband and grandfather to the Glamorous Ladies. The problems with this? He's too young, for one, but I already ranted about the age thing a couple of paragraphs ago. The real problems are that it's already been established that Patty's father was named Jack, and that he died in 1964. Stupid, awful, evil show. Oh, and Patrick Cassidy's sporting a hiddy, straggly wig even more asstastic than the Dolt's. Patrick exposits he conveniently left the seventeen-year-old Patty at his sister's house for the night, and remarks -- several tedious, anvilicious times -- that Raige bears a striking resemblance to said sister. He then invites everyone to a "drum circle" he saw on the way over, but by this point I was entirely distracted by the riot of anachronous foliage surrounding the Manor, like, it's January. In San Francisco. Why are there bright green leaves on all the goddamned trees? Whatever. Ludicrously Young Grams ropes Raige into this whole fucking stupid drum circle nonsense, and everyone with a speaking part in this evening's proceedings piles into Patrick Cassidy's garish "Rainbow Bus."
Present-day attic. Phoebe lights several candles as Piper sighs and blames herself for Raige's disappearance. In unison, Big Gay Chris and the Dolt shrug, "What's done is done." "You two really need to get a room," Phoebe goofs, and that's certainly not an image upon which to linger, so let's cut ahead to Grams's arrival. The Spooge on Chris's sneaker makes squishy noises as Phoebe recites the following:
Hear these words -- hear my cry,
Spirit from the Other Side:
Come to me. I summon thee --
Cross now the great divide.
A swirling cloud of glowing golf balls materializes to deposit the Visible Spectral Presence Of Grams at the center of the ring of candles, and this episode just got a hell of a lot better. We love Jennifer Rhodes. Unfortunately, the cloud that brought her also activates The Mighty Spooge on Chris's sneaker, and it expands to engulf his entire foot and part of his lower leg. Drew Fuller performs a dreadfully embarrassing pantomime of trying to shake The Spooge off as Grams corporealizes to greet Phoebe and Piper with warm words and outstretched arms. "We've got a problem," Piper begins. Eyeing The Spooge, which has now overrun the lower half of Chris's body, Grams cracks, "You're not the only one." The Dolt instructs Big Gay Chris to orb out. Chris testily reminds his father that use of magic only serves to make The Spooge grow faster. "You must be the new Whitelighter!" Grams sings as The Spooge quickly overtakes the upper half of his body. In conspiratorial tones and through a bright, false smile, she whispers to the Dolt, "He doesn't look very qualified for the job." Heh. Piper and Phoebe urge Chris to orb, but he obstinately and vigorously shakes his head at their suggestion. "Oh, for heaven's sake, listen to them," Grams condescends. "We'll find a way to vanquish the foul thing later." Chris caves after The Mighty Spooge covers his face, and dissolves into an orb cloud within The Spooge itself. Piper deploys her Hands, and The Spooge shatters into thousands of pieces on the floor. As Chris orbs back in, the Spooge bits ominously recede into the floorboards. Phoebe, Piper, Grams, and the Dolt eye each other warily as Big Gay Chris ruefully shakes his shaggy mane right into the commercial break. Dude. Haircut. Now.
Piper and Phoebe lounge on one of the parlor sofas as Grams hoots incredulously, "You and [Raige] moved out? When?" "A couple of weeks ago," Phoebe shrugs, "but we're handling everything." "You have [Raige] stuck in the past," Grams grits, barely holding it together, "and a demonic blob roaming the Manor -- exactly how are you handling things?" "We're still in an adjustment period," Piper testily replies. Grams leaps to her feet to howl, "There would be no 'adjustment period' if you were living under one roof! Why in heaven's name did you move out?" "To be with Jason?" Phoebe meekly offers. Grams's head nearly explodes. Heh. "You're the oldest," she cries, wheeling on Piper. "How could you let them move out?" "You know," Piper answers, stiffening her spine a bit, "it wasn't that hard, because they deserve a shot at a normal life." "They're not normal," Grams shrieks, "and neither are you! When are you going to learn that?" Hooray! Go Grams! Go Grams! Go, go, go Grams! Roll your eyes at that if you must, but know that I actually screamed, "FINALLY!" at the TV when Jennifer Rhodes delivered that line. I need help. Piper retreats a bit but snippily insists, "I guess never." Grams heaves a beleaguered sigh and waves her hands around disbelievingly. "All this over men. How many times have I told you men are utensils? You use them, wash them, and then throw them in a drawer until you need them again." Speaking of tools, here comes the Dolt. He and Big Gay Chris tiptoe into the parlor from the dining room to demand silence, as they're trying to track The Mighty Spooge by the sounds it makes as it slithers through the house. Chris presses his palms against a likely hiding wall, which immediately bulges out a bit as The Spooge, um, tries to get friendly with him, or something. Chris pulls back and reveals that they need Raige, because it took the Power of Three to vanquish The Spooge in the future. Yeah, yeah. He said his future didn't include Raige, because she died when Boobarella attacked the Manor. He was either lying, or his past, and thus his memories of his past, are shifting with each day he remains with the gals. It works for me, so whatever.
Piper snarls something about receiving the proper information at the proper time, and Big Gay Chris gets dismissive, so Grams orders the Dolt to "take point" on the whole Spooge issue, as Chris is "a little too green" to protect her "girls." Chris attempts to protest, but Grams silences him with a few quick words before focusing her attention on Raige. Upon learning which shoes Raige was wearing when she disappeared, Grams mutters something along the lines of "D'oh!" "Those boots took [Raige] back to the Summer [Summer? In January? Whatever.] of Love, which was one of the most crucial times of my life," Grams exposits. "Your grandfather Allen [Jack? Who was three years dead in 1967? Whatever.] was a sweet man, but he led me straight down the hippie-dippy trail. Allen was killed by my best friend -- I didn't know it at the time, but she was evil -- and I walked in right after it happened." "What did you do?" Piper prompts. "Well," Grams allows with a smile, "let's just say my peacenik days ended fast -- along with that bitch, Robin." "If she hadn't killed Allen," Grams explains, "the Charmed Ones would be dead." "I know I'm a ballbuster," she continues, turning to Chris, "but it kept me alive to protect my girls from all the demons that came after them as kids."
Grams then concocts a plan to retrieve Raige: Piper and Phoebe are to don items of clothing affected by the same spell that propelled Raige into the past, meet up with her in 1967, and somehow return her to 2004. Grams, you know I love you, but you're being a little vague with the details here. How, exactly, are they to get back to the present? Hmmm? What's that? That's their damn problem, you say? Well, fine. I can live with that, I suppose. Not. Grams also issues a warning. "Whatever you do, you can't change the past, or tell anyone you're from the future." "Why does he get to?" Phoebe snots, nodding her head in Chris's direction. "Because I know what I'm doing," he coolly replies. General snorts of derision from the ladies. Chris looks deflated and sad. Aw. C'mere, Chris. After you cut your goddamned hair. Grams orders the gals to get dressed.
Cut to that stupid fucking drum circle nonsense. Oh, fucking hell. I'd completely forgotten about this asinine bit. Patrick Cassidy stands at the center of a rabid pack of lice-infested deadbeats and recites the following free-form verse:
Liquid beats
Crashing down on parched shore --
Pounding like the feet
Of ten thousand soldiers.
Why?
WHY?
Shut the fuck up, Stupid Patrick Cassidy. Asshole. Smelly hippies applaud. Raige is getting into all this bullshit. Ludicrously Young Grams babbles something idiotic about peace and love defeating war and hate. Shut the fuck up, LYGrams. Finally -- finally -- Piper and Phoebe materialize in the middle of the park, and oh Christ. Piper's wearing a puffy blue gypsy blouse beneath a vile vest in order to hide the fact that Holly Marie Combs is, by now, thirty-seven months pregnant. Phoebe's clad in some revolting Op-Art inspired blouse with belled sleeves and matching headband, over some nasty-ass bell-bottomed jeans. LYGrams greets them kindly, but adds with a whisper, "You shouldn't use your magic so openly." I'd have skipped that bit were it not for what follows. As in, right away. Stupid show. As the Glamorous Ladies huddle for a processing summit, the high whine of police sirens pierces the air. "It's the pigs," grunts Stupid Fucking Talent-Free Patrick Cassidy. I hope the cops pummel his ass to a bloody pulp. A hot police officer strides through the throng of smelly, lice-infested deadbeats, ordering them to disperse. Some weasel with felonious facial hair and a pukka-shell necklace leads the gathering of smelly, lice-infested deadbeats in a chant of "Hell no, we won't go." Way to misappropriate an anti-draft slogan, git. Hot Cop and his colleagues reach for their nightsticks. Yes! Hippie beatdown! Hooray! Unfortunately, Ludicrously Young Grams lifts her hands into the air and recites the following:
They have no right,
They have no power:
Turn their hate-sticks
Into flowers.
Hot Cop's nightstick glows white and morphs into a bouquet of daisies. So much for that warning about using magic openly, huh? Shut the fuck up, Stupid LYGrams. Christ. With his long-awaited and much-desired hippie beatdown so rudely thwarted, Hot Cop decides to arrest Piper and Phoebe, though presumably not for crimes against fashion. And God. Scrawny Robin snatches Raige away at the last minute before she, too, would have ended up in the clink.
The Clink. Phoebe and Piper are locked into a holding cell, right to a mouthy Black Panther type by the name of Luther Morris as portrayed by -- yes, you guessed it -- Dorian Gregory. Someone in makeup took a black marker and drew a circle around his lips. I think it's meant to represent a groovy goatee. They've also given him a stylin' Foxy Brown afro wig. Dorian? You may now ask to be released from your contract. Seriously. The money's not worth it anymore. Be free! Piper and Phoebe delightedly note Luther's resemblance to his police officer son in an "Isn't it ironic?" sort of way that makes me want to beat both of them until they're dead.
Manor. Raige begs Stupid Fucking Talent-Free Patrick Cassidy to bust Piper and Phoebe out of jail. He blows her off. Douche. Ludicrously Young Grams arrives with a basket full of Mystical Crysticals for her guests to bless and disperse about the Manor, in order to ward off possible demonic attacks. Scrawny Robin looks guilty and disappears upstairs. Suspicious Stupid Fucking Talent-Free Patrick Cassidy follows her with his eyes and mutters something dumb to Raige. Scene.
Flash to the present. Grams, Big Gay Chris, and the Dolt muddle their collective way through a Spooge battle plan as the dead-eyed Doltine Psycho stares at his bottle, which rests just out of his reach on a nearby table. The Psycho stretches out one of his murderous hands and silently summons the thing with his orbing telekinesis. The Mighty Spooge, of course, immediately shoots out of a nearby wall to spatter The Doltine Psycho. The Dolt, alerted to the danger by Chris's last-minute shout of "NO!," snatches his Psycho out of the crib, and The Spooge attacks a lamp as the three adults flee the room. Electricity does not agree with The Spooge, evidently, for it zots and sizzles a bit before retreating into the wall. Grams, Big Gay Chris, and the Dolt scamper down the main stairs as the enraged Spooge rampages through the ceiling above them, showering them with chunks of plaster and whatnot. Once the enraged Spooge has calmed itself a bit, Chris whispers for the Dolt to remove The Doltine Psycho from the Manor. The Dolt cautiously approaches the front door and reaches for the knob. Just then, The Spooge slimes its way up the exterior of the Manor, casting an eerie greenish glow on the Dolt's face.
Flash to the past. Piper and Phoebe, weary of prison life, decide to try casting a spell on the paunchy guard. Dorian Gregory is contractually obliged to say something stupid when he overhears their plan. Sigh. Piper approaches the bars of the cell, and wings the following:
Come to me to be seduced.
I have a girl to introduce.
Fall for her: You can't resist her.
Trust me, mister -- she's my sister.
The paunchy guard glows white and leches over to the Feebs. "You know what I think is really hot?" she asks him, all teeth and lip gloss. "A guy in a cage. Why don't you come in here with me?" The paunchy guard eagerly consents. Once inside, Phoebe orders him to remove his uniform, which she then passes to Dorian Gregory, who was contractually obliged to say something stupid when the paunchy guard took off his shirt. Dorian Gregory, in paunchy clothing, is to lead the ladies to freedom, though how he's going to get past the other cops with Pam Grier's hair is beyond me.
Oh, gross. Back at the Manor, Groovy Dolt's trying to get into Raige's pants again. Fast-forward. Fast-forward. Fast-forward. Oh, hello, Stupid Fucking Talent-Free Patrick Cassidy. What the hell are you doing in the attic? Spying on Scrawny Robin, apparently, as she attempts to summon a dark demonic force by intoning, "And so I call upon the Crone -- let evil roam inside this home." Alas, Crazy Grace Zabriskie does not make an appearance. Rather, Stupid Fucking Talent-Free Patrick Cassidy confronts Scrawny Robin, so she conjures a Flaming Ball Of Death. Yes! Kill Patrick Cassidy! Raige unfortunately decides to barge in on the proceedings before Stupid Fucking Talent-Free Patrick Cassidy gets his ass fried. Scrawny Robin flings the FBOD at the intruder, but Raige ducks behind a table, so the FBOD scorches a wall. Stupid Fucking Talent-Free Patrick Cassidy makes some long, boring speech about peace and love during which Scrawny Robin could and should have toasted his worthless ass at least 184 times. She eventually conjures another FBOD, but Raige dumps a coffee can full of marbles onto the floor. And tricky must those marbles be, for though Scrawny Robin does not move, they still manage to send her ass-over-end to the carpet. Piper and Phoebe arrive in time to watch Scrawny Robin's FBOD bounce up into the air, hover for a bit, and crash back down into her boobs. Scrawny Robin howls and wails and blazes her merry way down to Hell. "What did I just do?" Raige breathes. "Nothing much," Piper grunts. "Just CHANGED OUR ENTIRE FUTURE." Whoa. Ow. Dial it down a notch, sweetie.
Flash to the present. The Dolt and Big Gay Chris quickly realize that The Spooge is sealing off all of the Manor's exits. Meanwhile, The Doltine Psycho's gazing maliciously at something on the floor. I hope it's not a P.A. With the look that kid's shooting him, someone's going to find the poor guy's brains splattered all over the soundstage before the episode's over. The Dolt turns to ask Grams for her opinion, and we realize exactly what Raige's actions have wrought when Grams appears in the kitchen doorway, clad in tie-dye and spouting some crap about love conquering all and taking the demon into her arms and making it feel safe. And with that, we hit yet another goddamned continuity error for the evening: Grams went to great lengths to establish that, had she not stopped being a hippie, her granddaughters would have died long before they reached their twenties. What does this mean? No Doltine Psycho. No Big Gay Chris. No Ps in 1967. No Dolt hanging around the Manor. No Spooge Demon clinging to the Manor's façade. Hell, no Manor, probably. But best of all? No Charmed! Hooray!
Kidding. Mostly. Commercials.
Back from the break, the Dolt passes The Psycho to Grams -- who's looking an awful lot like Olympia Dukakis in Tales From The City right about now, and that's not necessarily a good thing -- and heads to the center island for a processing summit with Big Gay Chris. They fret about the Glamorous Ladies and the altered timeline for a bit before Big Chris tells the Dolt to escort The Psycho and "Joan Baez" onto the sun porch while he collects some implements necessary to fight The Mighty Spooge. First among said implements? The blender. To puree The Spooge, apparently. No, I don't get it either, but I'm tired, and there's still twenty minutes left to go. Pureed Spooge it is!
Flash to the past. Ludicrously Young Grams enters the attic to discover the glum Glamorous Ladies and the still-alive Stupid Fucking Talent-Free Patrick Cassidy. Babble from the smelly hippies about how violence is never the answer, even when a warlock threatens to kill everyone in the house. LYGrams leaves with the wretched Cassidy to cancel the party. Once alone with her sisters, Raige wonders if they weren't destined to save The Wretchedly Stupid Fucking Talent-Free Patrick Cassidy. Phoebe reminds her that TWSFT-FPC was meant to die that evening, so Death will keep coming back until he gets the job done. Phoebe flips through the Book of Shadows for an anti-warlock potion. Raige agrees to assist her while Piper heads downstairs for "warlock watch."
Flash to the present. The Dolt and Big Gay Chris have stacked every minor appliance in the Manor on the dining room table. The idea is to get The Spooge to attack the minor Manor appliances, thereby electrocuting it. Unfortunately, when the Dolt adds another toaster oven to the mix, the fuses blow out in the basement. Big Gay Chris sighs and trudges off in search of a flashlight. Grams, incidentally, has underscored the entire scene with an inane running commentary on the virtues of non-violence. Shut up, Annoying Hippie Grams.
The shot cuts to Big Gay Chris futzing with a flickering flashlight at the top of the basement stairs. Once he gets a good look at what awaits him below, he flees the staircase, shouting for the Dolt. The Dolt bolts in from the dining room to learn that The Spooge is, in Chris's words, "feeding on the Nexus in the basement." The Dolt edges over to the basement door and eases it open. We get a Dolt POV of an ocean of Spooge happily slurping away at the foot of the stairs before The Spooge shoots a tentacle up towards the Dolt. The Dolt slams the door shut, gasping in panic. Pantywaist.
Flash to the past. Smelly hippies exit the Manor. Presently, Piper approaches Ludicrously Young Grams and The Wretchedly Stupid Fucking Talent-Free Patrick Cassidy to blither about fighting demons the way demons should be fought, rather than attempting to find a "path of peaceful resistance," in the words of TWSFT-FPC. Boring? You betcha, so I'll take a moment while the scene plays out to ponder the following: Piper, as we know, is the reincarnation of Grams's own mother, the "P. Baxter-Johnson" of "Pardon My Past." That version of Piper didn't kick it until 1970, so how is one soul or human essence or whatever the fuck it's called on this show inhabiting two different bodies at the same time? Shouldn't Piper have, like, spontaneously exploded upon reaching the past? That would have been wicked cool. Well, it would have been wicked cool if it happened to Phoebe, I suppose. And speaking of Grams's Boston Brahmin mother, where the hell is she while her daughter's allowing a bunch of lice-infested deadbeats to rampage throughout her house? Huh? She should be kicking LYGrams's blithering ass right about now, if you ask me. And look at that -- The Spawn Of Busey has returned to freeze the unfreezable witches so he can rant and rave. After a bit of this, the SOB unfreezes everyone and pimp-smacks TWSFT-FPC across the foyer. Pause. Rewind. Play. Pause. Rewind. Play. Pause. Rewind. Slow-forward. LYGrams retaliates by unleashing the following spell:
May peace and love
From the moon above
Flow through your heart
On the wings of a dove.
Spawn Of Busey freezes her with a sneer, pauses to snack on a chunk of the set, and conjures a Flaming Ball Of Death with which to fry LYGrams. The Wretchedly Stupid Fucking Talent-Free Patrick Cassidy leaps in front of LYGrams at the last minute, and the FBOD gouges its way into his back, where it leaves a gaping, bloody wound. I feel as if I have waited my entire life for this moment. No, seriously. It seems like this episode has been dragging on for thirty-five years. LYGrams keens and wails over Patrick Cassidy's rapidly cooling corpse (hooray!) as the SOB forms another FBOD. Phoebe and Raige interrupt the fry-fest, however, by silently slinking up behind the SOB and hurling a potion vial into his back. The resulting explosion sends the SOB flying across the room, where his massive teeth vanquish a table. Phoebe flings another vial at him, but the SOB blinks out at the last moment, and the vial shatters harmlessly against the wall. The Glamorous Ladies regroup, with Piper expressing doubt that Patrick Cassidy's death was enough to realign the timeline. She reminds her sisters that Grams flew into a rage when she found her husband dead (in 1964, three years before the events of this episode). Piper then indicates the wimpily weeping LYGrams and asks, "Does that look like a demon killer to you?" Raige and Phoebe gawp.
Flash to the present. Big Gay Chris plays with some wiring in the kitchen as the Dolt looks on. Unbeknownst to either of them, Mrs. Madrigal has stepped into the basement stairwell to croon sweet smelly hippie nothings at The Mighty Spooge. The Spooge replies by ejaculating a slimy tentacle that envelops Mrs. Madrigal and drags her into the depths of the basement as the door slams shut of its own accord. The boys gape their way into the final commercial break.
Smelly Hippie Manor. The gals exhort Ludicrously Young Grams to admit the error of her non-violent ways and start offing demons already. Phoebe goofs something about "my sisters and I" saving just scads of innocents by actively fighting evil, and whoops! Their cover's blown. LYGrams had been under the impression the three were just friends, but the Ps quickly disabuse her of that notion and fill LYGrams in on the whole family thing. The Spawn Of Busey blinks in to gnaw on more of the set, demolishing the potions the ladies had been brewing in the process. The Feebs tries to high-fly karate-kick him, but The Spawn Of Busey blinks out. Phoebe breaks both of her ankles when she smashes into the wall feet-first, then suffers severe trauma to the head and neck when she crashes into the floor. Oh, of course she doesn't, but good goddamn, it would have been fun if she had. Feminine gaping. Feminine fear. Audience boredom. Lots and lots of audience boredom.
Flash to the present. The Dolt and Big Gay Chris barricade the basement door with the weight of their own bodies, but The Spooge, it is so crafty. It tries to slime its way out under the door. Big Chris attacks it with those wires he was playing with earlier, to little avail. The boys panic.
Flash to the past, where The Spawn Of Busey is kicking much Glamorous Lady ass. He conjures a Flaming Ball Of Death to commence with the frying, but Ludicrously Young Grams interrupts the festivities by violently TKing his massive teeth into the wall. She exchanges a few determined words with the gals before telekinetically hoisting the SOB into the air and slamming him into another wall. She then shatters a small desk against his head. "Oh, now she's just showing off," Piper gripes. Hee. Finally, and at Phoebe's prompting, LYGrams topples the much-abused grandfather clock onto The Spawn Of Busey, who lapses into unconsciousness. "Now you do something really final," Phoebe helpfully hints. LYGrams squints and ad-libs the following spell:
Snuff this warlock
His days are done,
But make him good
For the ecosystem.
I hate this stupid fucking sucky-ass show.
The Spawn Of Busey smokes a bit before erupting upwards into a spray of daisies. Holly Marie Combs is contractually obliged to deliver an extremely unfunny line about flower power. Phoebe, of all people, announces that in order for the gals to return to the future, all LYGrams need do is reverse the "Return to Sender" spell she cast on the various garments. Because as we all know, Phoebe is the brain trust of the operation. LYGrams smiles and notes that she'll probably cast a memory wipe on herself after the Glamorous Ladies have left, the better to "maintain the cosmic order," or something. "Aww!" Raige whines. "I like this Grams. I don't want to forget you." Raige? Moron? Yes, over here. She's going to cast the spell on herself, fool. I think some of Phoebe's stoopid is rubbing off on you. Smelly hippie hugs for everyone. Onscreen, I mean. I don't want any of that shit around here, thanks very much.
Flash to the present. The Mighty Spooge is splintering the basement door. The gals materialize in time for Raige -- and Raige alone -- to wing the following:
Drawing on the Power of Three
Destroy this evil entity.
The Mighty Spooge emits a high-pitched squeal along with vast amounts of sickly green light, and dissolves. Piper inquires as to the health of her sociopathic infant, who is presently resting on the sun porch. He needs to preserve his strength for that soon-to-be-dead P.A., remember? The gals then worry about Grams. The Dolt sadly notes that "she didn't make it." Before I start ranting about yet another continuity error, a non-hippie yet smoky-from-the-vanquish Grams emerges from the cellar to verbally bitch-slap the Dolt for his stupidity with, "Nonsense! You can't kill an old war horse like me. I'm already dead." Big Gay Chris beams with delight, and I fall in love all over again. Or rather, I will fall in love all over again after he does something about that damn hair. Raige affably busts the Dolt's chops for his Groovy past, rather than planting one of Grams's go-go boots up his massive ass for his absolutely inexcusable behavior in 1967. Big Gay Chris looks plenty skeeved at the idea of a Dolt hippie. Try recapping it, hon. Piper heads off to look in on her weeny psychopath as Grams compliments the boys on a job well done. She even gives Big Gay Chris a friendly shoulder thumping with her fist. Pretty, pretty Chris averts his pretty, pretty eyes bashfully. Aw. The Dolt looks smug. Shut it, jackhole.
The Prue Halliwell Memorial Bimbo Boudoir Of Paisley Tit Slings And Other Fashion Atrocities, currently occupied by The Doltine Psycho, and I really hope Phoebe and Raige move back into the Manor, because that shit's just too much to type. Besides, I had grown rather fond of The Patricia Campbell Hearst Commemorative Child-Care Nook. Stockholm Syndrome? I'd love some! Anywho, Phoebe and Raige enter to confirm with Piper that Grams has left the building, but not before she bawled them both out for leaving the Manor. She did, however, finally offer them her blessing, though she elicited promises from Phoebe and Raige that they keep in better touch with Piper and continue practicing their magic. Piper's none too pleased with this development, but she masks it well. She's also photographed from the chest up throughout this denouement in order to hide the fact that Holly Marie Combs is, by now, fifty-four months pregnant. A group hug follows before Raige orbs Phoebe back to Hong Kong.
Piper sighs softly to herself as the Dolt ambles in from the hall. "Everything all right?" he asks. "Not really," she admits. "I know it seems to them that I'm moving on with my life and everything's fine, but that's not true." With a tight smile, she adds, "I wish they were still here." "You should tell them that," counsels the Dolt. "No," Piper quickly replies, "I shouldn't. I should just go to bed." And with that, she breezes past him towards her own room. The Dolt grimaces thoughtfully before stepping over to The Psycho's crib. "Goodnight, Moonbeam," he croons. Barf. The shot cuts to reveal the tiny, dead-eyed sociopath thumping his hand on his new peace sign blanket as we fade to black.
week, Piper smacks Phoebe in the mug with a layer cake, and there will be much rejoicing at Casa Demian. I think it's chocolate. The cake, I mean, not the Casa. Speaking of things Spanish, the episode will also feature a rip-snortingly scorching and mostly naked gentleman caller. Woof. I'm already liking it a lot more than the crap we had to deal with tonight. Have fun!