Fade up on some stock footage of a wintry, windswept mountain peak. Meanwhile, back on a soundstage in Los Angeles, Holly Marie Combs idly loiters on a set left over from a particularly dreadful episode, swathed in multiple layers of seasonally appropriate clothing to disguise the fact that she is, by now, sixty-eight months pregnant. A gentleman ambles into the frame toting a pair of skis and asks if she's ready to hit the slopes. "I want to," Piper replies, "but..." "What's holding you back?" the gentleman wonders. Their voices, incidentally, are all echoey, so we know that this is some sort of fantasy sequence. As Piper considers her answer, the disembodied voice of The Doltine Psycho calls out, "Mama!" "[Sociopathic Product Of My Loins]?" Piper bleats, confused. "He must be pretty special," the gentleman notes as he slowly backs away from her, "for you to give up everything." And with that, the gentleman simply fades away. The Psycho cries out for his mother once more as the camera cranes up into the air above Piper. A white flash of light zaps us back to...
...the Bridal Boudoir, where Piper bolts awake from her nap as the shrill caterwauling of her murderous infant reaches her ears through the baby monitor at her side. She races into The Prue Halliwell Memorial Bimbo Boudoir Of Paisley Tit Slings And Other Fashion Atrocities, currently occupied by The Doltine Psycho, to discover a dreadlocked white boy in black monastic garb scanning the brat with a silver wand that's emitting a pinkish ray of light. The Psycho's tossed up his protective shield, but the scanning ray's shooting right through it. The dreadlocked monk mojos the silver wand -- which glows and vanishes -- and then raises his arms as if in triumph. Piper deploys her Hands Of Discontent and wastes the manky-haired bastard. The Psycho immediately drops his shield, and Piper bustles over to scoop him up in her arms and croon reassurances into his ear. The Psycho just dead-eyes another soon-to-be-deceased P.A. on the floor.
Somewhere...else, the wand rematerializes in mid-air and drops into the hand of a Craptin-chanting abbot. He and the others of his demonic order are arranged in a circle around a column of light that presently morphs into a holographic representation of The Doltine Psycho. "At last!" the abbot murmurs. "We have found him!" Um. DUN!? So early in the episode? This should be dull. The holographic lazy Susan upon which The Psycho's been placed spins until the little monster's been flung into the opening credits.
The gorgeous opening travelogue of fog writhing around the Golden Gate Bridge is brutally marred by some ovary groaning, "She. Must. Rinse. This all away. She. Canawallaoooo awahoo ahummina hummina." I really miss proper diction in popular music. The groaning ovary carries on endlessly in this unintelligible fashion as we cross-fade back to the Manor for a montage of Piper cuddling The Doltine Psycho for a bit before placing him back in his crib. She then crosses to the Boudoir's mantel to examine a framed photograph of herself with the Dolt in happier times. She reaches some silent conclusion and whips her head around to gaze protectively at the dozing Psycho for a bit until the camera cuts abruptly to Phoebe and Raige bursting through front door, arms laden with groceries. As Raige whines about a "neck spasm," Darryl and The Dazzling Sheila wander into the hallway with a few bags of their own. Hello, Sheila! She's so pretty. Almost as pretty as Chris. The Dazzling Sheila, showing far more concern for Raige's health than Phoebe does -- like, go figure -- asks if Raige is okay. "Yeah," Raige replies. "It just sometimes flares up under stress." As the four place their bags on the dining room table, The Dazzling Sheila notes, "With what you guys put up with, I'm surprised it doesn't flare up all the time." "It's not the demons," Raige assures her. "It's this birthday stuff -- especially Piper's. I always screw up the surprise, plus I have no idea what to get her, and obviously time is running out." Not so much, moron, when you realize Piper's birthday isn't until March 7th. Idiots. Darryl lugs food into the kitchen as Phoebe stows birthday paraphernalia in the sideboard, all the while insisting that Raige can just split the costs of the dinner with her. Raige, however, would rather avoid "jumping on [Phoebe's] bandwagon." The Dazzling Sheila passes some candles to Raige and opines that the "perfect present" for a new mother is a simple sit-down dinner with family and friends. Not so much, blurts the Feebs. "The perfect gift doesn't exist anymore," she claims, expositing that the perfect gift for Piper would be the charm bracelet their mother gave her, which Prue proceeded to lose. Yeah, blame the woman you had whacked. Hag.
More expository chatter follows, during which we learn that Chronic, Slampiece Buttfuck, and the Dolt will not be attending Piper's birthday dinner tomorrow evening. Chronic's on a business trip; Buttfuck's staying away because of his mysterious and annoying problems with magic; and Phoebe and Raige figured it would just be awkward to have the ex-husband hanging around the Manor, despite the fact that the ex-husband's been doing nothing but hanging the Manor for the last five goddamned months. We also get an earful of the gals' Issues Of The Week, which involve Phoebe's increasing homesickness and Raige's increasing irritation with Buttfuck's mysterious and annoying problems with magic. Finally, at long last, Piper clomps around on the floorboards upstairs to herald her imminent arrival upon the main floor, so Phoebe and Raige shoo the Morrises out the front door and scramble to hide the remaining party goodies. Said scrambling involves Raige's wrapping her arms around the remaining bags on the table and orbing out with them, which seems a lot like personal gain to me, but what's really offensive about that little bit is that we presently learn she orbed all of six feet into the kitchen. This means they just blew $10,000 on an entirely unnecessary effects shot. Stupid show. In any event, Phoebe affects a casual slouch against the banister as Piper descends the stairs with a mild "How's that surprise party coming?" The camera zooms in on Phoebe's shocked face as she hoots and yodels for a bit before chasing Piper into the kitchen.
Piper sashays around the center island toward the fridge as Phoebe jiggles in behind her to deny that any festivities have been planned for Piper's continuity-slaughtering birthday the evening. "Just do me a favor and don't invite Greg," Piper sighs, "or any other guys, for that matter. I'm done with them." Incidentally, the props department has loaded the center island with bottles of wine, stacks of glasses, a raft of cooking utensils, and a knife rack, all of which Holly Marie Combs hides behind throughout this scene to disguise the fact that she is, by now, eighty-seven months pregnant. To the general astonishment of her sisters, Piper announces that she had "an epiphany right after [she] vanquished a demon" in the nursery. She's apparently decided that her "new mission in life" is to devote herself full-time to the care and feeding of The Doltine Psycho, and that this involves not only swearing off men, but selling the nightclub as well. "Would you care to elaborate?" Raige inquires disbelievingly. Piper plants a hand on her hip and reveals that The Psycho said his first word right after he was attacked in his crib. "I don't think I'll be putting that in his baby book," Piper pouts, before sweeping out of the kitchen into the hall. Raige and Phoebe race after her, peppering Piper with questions. Piper wearily replies that she's had it with "the dating game," and insists that forswearing men has been "liberating." How liberating can it possibly be when you've only been at it for three minutes? God, I hate this show. "What about sex?" Phoebe typically wonders, as Piper retrieves the mail from the front porch. "I'm the mother of one of the most magical creatures ever," Piper shrugs. "Sex rather pales in comparison, don't you think?" Needless to say, this assertion shocks her trampy siblings to the very core of their collective being. As Piper blithely glides past them, Phoebe goggles, and Raige breathes, "She doesn't need a party. She needs an intervention."
(By the way, I deliberately avoided a line wherein Piper refers to the Dolt as her "soulmate." I thought it would be for the best.)
A few sporking bolts of lightning zip us back down to Hell or wherever, where the abbot and his underlings chant nonsense at the shimmering hologram of The Doltine Psycho. Long, pointless subplot short, these guys believe that The Psycho is actually the reincarnation of their long-dead demonic leader. They intend to use the scanning wand to "cleanse him of the poison that has corrupted him," and drag him back down to Hell once more to reign over them. Or something like that. None of this matters, because they're wrong, and they all die, so whatever. And don't even get me started on that stoopid hologram. Apparently, it contains all of The Doltine Psycho's powers or some such bullshit: whenever one of the monks reaches into it, said monk gets his ass fried. No, I don't understand it. More importantly, I don't care, because none of this matters, and besides, there will soon be a naked Mexican in the Manor, so let's head back up there, shall we?
Attic. Phoebe bounces in to announce that Piper's had no luck finding her vanquished demon in the Book of Shadows. "Any luck up here?" she asks Raige. "Actually, I'm working on something else," Raige admits with a sly grin. "A birthday present." Phoebe buhs endlessly until Raige finally reveals that she's creating "a love machine" -- "the perfect man" to get "a little love back in [Piper's] life." "Are you out of your mind?" Phoebe splutters. "I don't think I am," Raige muses, before reminding Phoebe that they've conjured magical beings before, so what's the big deal? "They always come back to bite us in the ass!" Phoebe hisses. Raige vows there will be no ass-biting from this particular magical creature: she's conspired to ensure he'll vanish after twenty-four hours. "We can't just conjure up a sex toy," Phoebe squeals. "Listen," Raige flatly states, laying it on the line, "magic owes Piper. It's taken away the love of her life, and now it's threatening to take love from the rest of her life? I think this could be for the greater good." Phoebe hmmms, still not entirely buying it, but for some reason she's willing to play along. The ethical implications of this are staggering and absolutely dreadful: how can Raige and Phoebe possibly live with themselves knowing they conjured a living, breathing entity who will, by design, self-destruct after a single day? Whose only purpose, furthermore, is to satisfy Piper's various desires? It's monstrous. Then again: Naked Mexican. Woof. The gals gather up slips of paper and scribble down the qualities they believe Piper's perfect man should possess. "Sensitive, but not a wuss bag," Raige announces, before dropping her first slip into the bubbling copper potion pot on the table. The pot's contents flare white as they absorb the paper. "A good listener," Phoebe adds, releasing a slip of her own into the mix. The camera shoots back and forth between Raige and Phoebe as they rapidly compile their list: "A good cook." "Handy around the house." "Good with kids." "Gets the whole 'normal life' thing." "Has a really big..." "[Raige]!" Phoebe chides. "Uhhhnnh!" Raige ineloquently retorts. "Is this the perfect guy, or what?" So Raige is a size queen. Huh. Then what the hell is she doing with Balthazar Getty? Phoebe considers Raige's reasoning for a moment, and then shrugs, "All right. Throw it in." The potion bubbles noisily as Raige leers.
Down in the Bridal Boudoir, my husband is bitching at my mother-in-law, and good God, how I've missed him. Don't you ever disappear for the first fourth of an episode again, do you hear me? "How am I supposed to protect [The Doltine Psycho] if you don't tell me when a demon attacks until hours later?" Big Gay Chris rants. "Because," Piper nonchalantly replies, "I'm taking care of it." Piper's curled up on an overstuffed armchair with the Book of Shadows in her lap in order to disguise the fact that Holly Marie Combs is, by now, a hundred and twelve weeks pregnant. "What if this demon was the one?" Chris snots before prompting, "The reason I came back?" "Then you're in luck," Piper testily replies, "because I blew him up." She pauses for a moment, and then snorts, "Not to mention, how many demons have you said that about so far?" The Chris Who Cried Wolf rolls his eyes and insists he simply has The Psycho's best interests at heart. Piper icily assures him she is of like mind on that matter as she rises to hide behind a basket of laundry on the bed. "If another one shows up," Piper tells him, "I'll be here." Chris sneers contemptuously, "What happens if you're on a date with the fireman or whoever else you're seeing this week?" Hee. Big Gay Chris just called his mom a slut. God love him. Piper drops the celibacy bomb upon her as-yet-unconceived younger son, who promptly and understandably freaks. "What?" he gasps, his eyes going wide. "Did I stutter?" she bites acidly. "You can't give up on love!" he insists. "Ever." Piper arches a brow and wonders why not. "You...you...you just can't," Chris babbles before offering a lame "It's not natural." Piper shoots him A Look, so Chris argues that she needn't sacrifice her life for The Doltine Psycho -- after all, that's why Chris traveled back to the past in the first place. Such a martyr. He really is his mother's son.
Piper hoists the laundry basket from the bed and trundles into the hallway, claiming that "the only thing that matters now is what's best for [The Psycho]." Poor panicky Chris charges after her, crying, "This is not what's best for [The Psycho]!" "How would you know?" she dismissively lobs over her shoulder. "Because I've seen the future," he reminds her, "and this isn't supposed to happen." Piper stops short at the nursery door and spins on her heel to demand, "So what is supposed to happen?" "You know I can't answer that," he pleads. Piper, not having it, replies, "If you were sent from the future to change it, maybe this is one of the things that's meant to be changed." As she crosses the threshold, Chris calls out, "No, it's not -- believe me!" You gotta feel for the guy: Not only has his mother just informed him she's sworn off sex -- which is an icky admission for anyone's mother to make and has the extra-special added-bonus side-effect of threatening his very existence -- but Big Gay Chris also has to persuade his mother to have sex, which is the sort of conversation that would send any normal person screaming for the vodka. Incidentally, when all this is over and Chris is revealed to be Piper's younger son as many of you suspect he will be, I do hope you'll remember that I called this way back in May.
Anyway, Piper shushes Chris as she crosses the nursery to the dresser, upon which she finds an entirely unexpected birthday present from the Dolt. Entirely unexpected because her fucking birthday is in March. Assholes. Lost in thought, Piper barely hears Chris as he sidles over toward his older brother's crib to suggest that the Dolt orb the kid up to Whitelighterland to protect him from the various unearthly evils assailing the Manor. "Or," Chris adds, taking another step towards The Psycho, "you could always bind his powers." The Doltine Psycho responds to this by erecting his shimmery protective shield. Brat. Chris sighs and retreats to Piper's side, urging her to consider his last suggestion seriously. "No way," she instantly replies. "Why not?" Chris exasperates. "Nobody would ever be after him, and you'd have your life back." Piper gazes at him for a moment before brushing past him to cross to the crib. Eventually, she turns and asks, "But that would be selfish of me, wouldn't it? To put my needs before his destiny?" Chris shakes his head defeatedly and slumps his shoulders. "I'm not being a martyr, Chris," Piper continues, despite the fact that she's needed to get down from her damn cross since the first season. "I just get it now. I'm the mother of a very special child. If I do my job right, he's going to grow up to do very special things -- what could possibly be more important than that?" Oooh. Burn! Big Neglected Chris mopes while his heartless mother turns her back on him to switch off the cribside lamp. The resulting gloom descends upon pretty, pretty Chris like a shroud. A massive, eye-roll-inducing, anvilicious shroud, but a shroud nonetheless.
Attic. Phoebe and Raige have dispensed with the list-making to dump "magical pheromones" into the potion. The intent, I gather, is to weaken Piper's certain resistance to the man they're creating. As the clock chimes midnight, Phoebe and Raige recite the following in unison:
The perfect man we summon now --
Another way we don't know how
To make our sister see the light.
Somewhere out there is Mister Right.
"Another way we don't know how to make our sister see the light"? Numbskulls. A glittery spray of twinkly golden lights erupts from the pot and flutters into the air above the gals' heads. It arches across the room to pool on the carpet, whereupon it presently coagulates and glows, morphing into the demurely crouching figure of a very built, very gorgeous, and very naked Eduardo Verástegui. Yowza. The Lecherous Latin-American Guitar Of Sweet Holy Christ On A Stick, This Guy Is Hot frets a fandango on the soundtrack as Naked Eduardo rises to his feet and turns to face the girls. They stare at his dick. "Hello," he offers in what I shall soon come to believe is phonetically memorized English. "Purrr-fect," the gals leer. Naked Eduardo flashes his dizzying smile, and Phoebe and Raige's sopping panties drop into the commercial break.
The morning – and what the hell were those skanks doing with him for the last seven hours, huh? -- a now non-naked Eduardo totes a breakfast tray from the kitchen into the dining room as Phoebe and Raige barrage him with instructions on how to behave. When Eduardo reaches the foot of the stairs, he turns to croon, "Ladies, please. You created me to know exactly what Piper wants. Don't worry, mmm?" Eduardo then mounts the stairs. Everyone stares at his ass. Yes, you're staring at it, too. Don't lie to me. "I have a question," Raige announces once she's regained her ability to speak. "Since when is Piper into hot Latin types?" "Since I put in the Hot Latin Type ingredient," Phoebe smirks. "Are you complaining?" No. No, I'm not. Thanks for asking, Feebs.
Bridal Boudoir. Eduardo eases his way through the door with the tray and greets the half-asleep Piper: "Happy birthday!" Piper bolts upright in bed and shrieks, pulling the comforter up to her neck to disguise the fact that Holly Marie Combs is, by now, a hundred and thirty-four weeks pregnant. Eduardo places the tray on the bed to display the various breakfast items, and here's where I became convinced they had him memorize his lines phonetically because he doesn't speak English. You know, like Abba had to do with "Waterloo"? "Ecks-Benedict-eecey-yoke," he lists, with Vanna hands. "Stee-med asparagoos. Freshfruit. Oh-ranzh-joo-ass-no-puwp. How do I do?" No so good -- but you hot, so me? No complain. Piper screams for her sisters, who gingerly tiptoe in from the hall. Awkwardness abounds as introductions are made. "You hired a guy for my birthday?" Piper eeks as she crawls out of bed and into an oversized robe. "We didn't hire a guy for your birthday," Phoebe goofs a little too dismissively. "We made him!" Raige perks. Piper's eyes bug out as she clenches her jaw in a desperate attempt to keep her head from imploding. Phoebe instantly betrays Raige: "Well, you know, this is [Raige's] present for you. Mine's the surprise birthday party." Bitch. Raige darkly mutters, "Traitor," under her breath as Piper huffs on out of there. Her sisters race after her, hot Eduardo in tow.
Piper stomps down the stairs in a fury as Phoebe and Raige beg her to give Eduardo a chance. "Did you not hear me yesterday?" Piper scowls, referring to her puzzling new Virgin Mary kick. "Yeah, we did," Phoebe affirms. "We just wanted you to change your mind," Raige adds. "So ya whipped up a magical gigolo?" Piper grits incredulously. "This is like something we would do yearsago before we knew better," Piper raves, "but now we do know better, or at least we're supposed to!" Raige, patience wearing thin, takes matters into her own hands once again and shoves Eduardo into Piper's arms. Those magical pheromones kick in and Piper, slowly caving, whimpers, "Are you wearing cologne?" "No," comes the reply, because, of course, Piper doesn't like cologne. "But what does she like?" Phoebe prompts. Sexy Eduardo obediently reels off an agenda for the day that includes a long walk on the beach, shopping at the Embarcadero, "launching" at Zuni, and what's supposed to be "deep-tissue massages," but because poor Eduardo learned his lines phonetically, that last bit comes out completely mangled and sounds more like "deep-dish Miss Ahgeese." But the way he pronounces "Embarcadero"? Sigh. Piper makes a show of resisting him, but when he proposes they take The Doltine Psycho along, her resistance completely collapses and she heads upstairs to dress. Eduardo sprints after her to ready The Psycho, leaving Phoebe and Raige to hyperventilate in the hall.
High atop the Golden Gate Bridge, Big Gay Chris gazes down at the traffic on the deck below as the Dolt orbs in by his side. "Finally!" Big Chris gripes. "I've been calling you for hours. Where have you been?" The Dolt tosses off a pissily snippy reply I'll not dignify with a transcription, so Chris fills him in on the day's Psycho-related events. Chris also tests his binding proposal out on Dear Dolt Dad, but Dad's having as little of that as Mother was last night. Chris gets all pouty and wonders what they're supposed to do. The Dolt suggests meditation right there atop the bridge, "above the din of the city." "Din"? Shut up, Dolt. Big Gay Chris shoots his father a skeptical side-eye, but soon joins the Dolt in "listen[ing] to the wind." And what does the wind tell them? Beats the shit out of me, because the wind speaks Craptin.
Oh, sorry. That was actually those demonic monks making with the Craptin, as we discover when we return to Hell for the following scene. Another abbot underling goes up in flames, but again: whatever. Long story short, the abbot decides to disguise another underling as Detective Darryl. Said underling will then infiltrate the Manor to perform another scan on The Doltine Psycho. Scene.
Back at the Manor, Phoebe and Raige natter about their Issues while Raige disperses Mystical Crysticals around the first floor as part of "a demonic alarm system." However, no one cares about their Issues, because their Issues involve their boyfriends, and their boyfriends suck. Big Gay Chris and the Dolt orb in at this point to deliver the skinny on the demons of the week -- a demonic cult simply known as "The Order," who, as I already stated, believe that their long-vanquished leader has been reincarnated as The Doltine Psycho. Glum looks from the Glamorous Ladies.
Piper wanders through the front door at this juncture, laden with shopping bags and a ludicrously intricate hat fashioned from twisted balloons. She's also sporting a vast grey poncho to disguise the fact that Holly Marie Combs is, by now, a hundred and fifty-two weeks pregnant. Chris frostily inquires as to his older brother's whereabouts. As if in response, Eduardo enters with The Psycho in his stroller. Eduardo is adorably mangling "If You're Happy And You Know It," which he clearly doesn't know because he speaks no English. Also, some unfortunate has painted cat's whiskers on the dead-eyed Psycho and is doubtlessly a steaming pile of mangled gore at the bottom of a ravine by now. Awkwardness abounds as introductions are made and Piper realizes for the first time that day that Eduardo doesn't have a name. "Why not call me David? You've always liked that name," Eduardo suggests in a shout-out to the father of Holly Marie Combs's artfully concealed fetus. "Isn't he perfect?" Piper beams. Phoebe and Raige go "awwww!" at the same time. Heh. The Dolt is supremely unamused and shoots a scorching look of hatred at his former sisters-in-law, who quickly propel Piper and Eduardo up the stairs to spare them the impending smackdown. Explanations for their boneheaded scheme are offered by Phoebe and Raige, only to be soundly rejected by the Dolt and Big Gay Chris. Addressing the big gay one directly, Raige insists, "[Eduardo]'s just gonna be here long enough to...straighten her out." And it was at this point I figured Chris would do his level best to get into Eduardo's pants before the evening ended, if only to spite Raige for that obnoxious slam. And I was right.
Faux Darryl enters with a festively wrapped cylinder he claims is a present for The Psycho from Sheila, so that The Psycho would have something to open on his mother's birthday as well. Phoebe directs him upstairs as Big Gay Chris proposes canceling the dinner party. Raige shuts him down immediately, but by now we've joined Faux Darryl in the upstairs hallway, where he warily eyes the various Crysticals before greeting Eduardo and Piper in the nursery. Piper distractedly waves him in and flits off downstairs with the hot Mexican. Faux Darryl crosses to the crib, where The Psycho instantly erects his shimmery protective shield. Faux Darryl shoots a foul look towards the nursery door, and then morphs down into the Designated Abbot Underling, who takes great pains to deactivate the baby monitor before scanning the brat with the silver wand. Meanwhile, Piper and Eduardo descend the stairs as Phoebe blurts out a warning regarding The Order. Piper notes the odd staticky noises emanating from the monitor in her hand, and immediately spins to race back upstairs, followed closely by the Dolt. The Designated Abbot Underling, hearing their approach, mojos the wand back down to Hell, then smilingly accepts the smiting he receives courtesy of Piper's Hands Of Discontent. Piper rushes to coddle her sociopathic elder son as the Dolt, Phoebe, Raige, and Big Gay Chris enter to make concerned noises.
Meanwhile, down in Hell, the silver wand rematerializes in the abbot's hand. He directs the ray at the holographic image of The Doltine Psycho, and the shimmery protective shield surrounding the image disappears. "He's ready to come home," the abbot murmurs as The Psycho's terrifyingly empty gaze hurls me into a temporary blackout. Or, you know, the commercial break.
Manor parlor. The Dolt orbs in with news that Darryl's fine -- the tedious cultists "never got anywhere near him." The Dolt considers this proof that The Order has been observing the Glamorous Ladies for quite some time, to see whom they trust with The Psycho. Phoebe finds this creepy. Big Gay Chris reminds her that it'll get a hell of a lot creepier if The Order manages to snag The Psycho and convert him to evil. Well, to a greater evil than he already is. Piper and Eduardo descend from above with the affectless brat in question to join the conversation. Seems Piper's been chatting with the hot Mexican and has come to understand that Chris's binding plan is their best option. Phoebe, Raige, and the Dolt immediately howl their various objections to this decision, with Phoebe flatly refusing to assist. As binding the powers of so superwonderful a creature would require the Power of Three, Piper is hosed. Chris, who'd been closely but silently following the argument from the depths of his armchair, now rises to order the Dolt up to Whitelighterland with The Psycho until the Glamorous Ladies have sorted themselves out. The Dolt eagerly agrees and exits through the ceiling. Chris then focuses his attention on Eduardo, whom he drags upstairs, presumably so the gals can have a chat, but really so he can do him on his neglectful mother's bed. Phoebe and Raige glare in Piper's direction. Piper hangs her head in...shame? I don't know. Also, I don't care, because we're about to get some hot man-on-man action up in the attic, so stow it.
Attic Of Hot Manly Love. Big Gay Chris leads Sexy Eduardo over to the table, upon which Raige's bubbling potion pot from the evening still rests. Crafty Chris, having noted Eduardo's overwhelming influence on his mother, intends to alter the potion so Eduardo might exert the same level of influence on his aunts. Chris scribbles a few words down in a slip of paper, which he then tosses into the pot. The mixture flares, but more importantly, Eduardo has an orgasm. No, seriously. His entire body glows as he shudders and groans and immediately forgets what they were just talking about. I half expect him to fall asleep. Chris grins and asks Eduardo what Raige really wants from a man. Eduardo correctly replies that Raige would be happiest with someone who allowed her to practice magic openly. Chris scribbles some more and flings the slip of paper into the pot. Eduardo has another orgasm, and when prompted by Chris correctly identifies Phoebe's deepest hopes for a partner, which include said gentleman's willingness to remain in San Francisco. "This potion really packs a punch, huh?" Dirty Chris giggles more to himself than anyone else before he scrawls a final alteration, which relates to the Glamorous Ladies' happiness as a group. "The only way they can be with the perfect man," Chris reasons aloud, "is if they're happy with each other first, and the only way they can be happy with each other first is by agreeing to bind [The Psycho's] powers." Chris pitches this last slip into the pot, and Eduardo's resulting orgasm nearly blows a hole through the attic wall and leaves him virtually insensate. No. Seriously. Eduardo glows and groans and gasps and heaves and spins around and pants and mutters, "Uhhhhhnnn!" Raunchy Chris spots the bottle of pheromones and dumps all that remain into the potion, which once again explodes. We don't see Eduardo's reaction, but I'm assuming this last has left him a sweaty, sodden heap on the attic carpet. Chris had best get him to change his pants before sending him back downstairs. Okay, ew. But still, having potion sex with the hot Latino escort your aunts conjured for your mother's birthday? Kinky. And hysterically funny as well.
Down in the dining room, the ladies argue amongst themselves until Eduardo arrives to seduce them all with the magical pheromones. This involves backrubs. No, I am not kidding -- compliant Eduardo, following Chris's instructions, first rubs Raige's back while crooning sweet nothings in her ear, then crosses to Phoebe for more of the same. The physical contact and the resulting transfer of those freaky pheromones soon have Phoebe and Raige in Eduardo's thrall. Once the gals have all fallen under Eduardo's influence -- and I almost typed "come under Eduardo's influence," but that's a bit much after the man-sex in the attic -- Big Gay Chris asks once more about binding his older brother's powers. Unfortunately, Darryl and The Dazzling Sheila barge in at this moment for the birthday dinner. Chris rolls his eyes at the intrusion and tries to get rid of them by claiming the dinner's been cancelled. "Why?" Eduardo asks. "The girls still want to party." Enthusiastic agreement from the girls in question. Chris changes tacks: "But the dinner isn't even made!" Raige stomps all over this strategy by addressing the following to the dining room table:
On Piper's day, set this table
With all the favors you are able.
What appears to be a five-course meal instantly flares into existence, followed by an array of balloons, birthday banners, and a cake. Is that a Jell-O mold I spy? Tacky, Raige. Real tacky. Chris's subsequent protests regarding The Psycho's imperiled safety fall on deaf ears as the others happily take their seats.
Up in Prue Memorial, the abbot squiggles in with a couple of underlings, notes The Psycho's absence, and melts into the wall with his followers to await The Psycho's return. God, this is boring.
Dining room. Darryl and The Dazzling Sheila are shocked and appalled to learn Phoebe and Raige conjured Eduardo as a birthday present for Piper. Well, Darryl's shocked and appalled. The Dazzling Sheila actually seems to have the hots for the Mexican. Atta girl. Meanwhile, Chris paces back and forth behind everyone, pausing occasionally to bang his head against the wall in frustration. Hee. Just how badly his plan has backfired becomes apparent in a brief yet bizarre sequence wherein we get Phoebe and Raige POVs of Eduardo. Phoebe sees him in a business suit as he assures her she needn't hide her secret anymore. From Raige's perspective, he's a leather-clad lunk who enthuses about her "magical" dinner. "They're really good peas," Raige agrees dreamily. Heh. Raige languidly rises from her seat to slither onto Eduardo's lap as Darryl and The Dazzling Sheila shift around uncomfortably in their chairs. "Is this some kind of demonic thing?" Darryl whispers to Chris. "No," Chris snorts, "it's some sort of messed-up thing." "Maybe we should go," The Dazzling Sheila suggests, and a wigged Darryl quickly agrees. As they head into the foyer with Chris, Piper's jealousy gets the better of her. "Hey!" she yells at Raige, tugging on her arm. "Off of the lap!" Raige wrinkles her nose, grabs a handful of food, and flings it in Piper's face. Raige snatches the birthday cake from the table and hurls it at Piper's head. Piper instinctively freezes the thing, and then plucks it from the air to hurl it right back at Raige. Raige redirects it with her orbing telekinesis, and the cake plows into Phoebe's face. Hooray! The situation quickly degenerates into a full-on food fight as the gals whip mashed potatoes and Jell-O at each other while Darryl and The Dazzling Sheila flee through the front door. Chris yanks Eduardo off to one side and shouts, "Get them to bind [The Psycho's] powers now!" Meanwhile, Phoebe takes a blob of Jell-O in the kisser and snipers to the floor. Hee. Pity it wasn't a baseball bat, though.
Attic. With the gals and Big Gay Chris trailing behind him, Eduardo enters the room, explaining all the way that what the sisters most want is happiness together. Therefore, they must blah blah we KNOW. Get on with it already! Piper summons the Dolt, who orbs in and dumps The Doltine Psycho in his product-placed playpen. The gals announce their recent agreement on binding the brat's powers, which leads to another argument, while off to the side the abbot quietly squiggles in with his underlings. The abbot trains the scanner on The Psycho's eyes. The Psycho's eyes glow pink, and he immediately erects a massive protective shield which slams into the Dolt from behind, flipping him across the room into the ladies and his other son. The five crash violently to the floor as the abbot and his underlings stride inside The Psycho's shimmery sphere. The abbot places a hand on the kid, and the group squiggles away. The battered Manor Morons gape their way into the final commercial break.
Attic. Aftermath. "Whoa, what are you doing?" Big Gay Chris asks as he hastily backs away from the Glamorous Ladies. "The pheromones wore off!" Phoebe shouts. "Right after they stole my son!" Piper spits. The de-pheromoned gals angrily advance on a cowering Chris, demanding an explanation for this week's wacky hijinks. After a bit of this, Chris finally blurts, "The only reason I came here is to prevent [The Psycho] from turning evil!" "'Turning' evil?" the Dolt repeats incredulously. "Don't you mean, 'Stopping evil from hurting him'?" Raige adds. "I didn't think you'd help me if you knew the truth," Chris admits. "The evil from the future I came back to stop isn't a demon. It's [my brother, The Psycho]." "You're lying!" Piper cries. "No, I'm not," Chris wearily insists. "He's gonna grow up and terrorize people with his powers. Take over. Kill, even." Which he's already done, but whatever. He's still his parents' little golden boy, and neither Piper nor the Dolt is willing to entertain the notion that their pride and joy is actually some sort of soulless, demented, mass-murderering freak. Chris tries to make the best of a bad situation by offering his plan to save The Psycho from The Order. The Order has reversed The Psycho's good and evil polarities, which is why The Psycho attacked the Dolt with his shield. "So?" sneers the Dolt. "So, [The Psycho] brings his shield up around me," Chris reveals. "He thinks I'm a threat." Chris is therefore the only one of the Manor Morons who can save the brat. "We don't need your help," Piper seethes. "I will get my son back, and when I do, I don't want to see you anymore." Big Gay Chris gets a little misty-eyed at this, apologizes again, and orbs out. Sniff.
Hell. Yawn. The abbot leads his underlings in some sort of tedious dark demonic ceremony centered upon the ludicrously robed Psycho. Raige orbs in with Piper and Phoebe, and the three immediately start kicking some monastic ass. Various underlings vanish in gouts of flame and smoke as the abbot sets The Psycho on a nearby altar, where the brat erects his protective sphere. Piper attempts to break through it, but the sphere sizzles and propels her backwards through the air into Phoebe and Raige. From inside the sphere, the abbot makes threatening noises and conjures a Flaming Ball Of Death. At the last minute, Big Gay Chris orbs into the sphere and tackles the abbot to the ground. The abbot meets his demise in much the same manner as Robin The Scrawny Blonde from last week, only without an assist from Raige's tricky marbles, of course. The tackle forces the abbot onto his own FBOD, which fries his ass but good. The few underlings that remain quickly squiggle out while Chris staggers to his feet and tells his mom, "Pick up the scepter and point it at [my brother]." Piper hesitates for a beat, but complies. The Psycho's eyes again glow pink, and he drops his shield. Piper hastily gathers him up in her arms and rejoins her sisters across the chamber from Chris. "How come he didn't raise his shield back up for you?" Raige wonders. "I don't know," Chris shrugs, panting a bit. "Looks like he trusts me now, at least." Piper glares. I think I hate my mother-in-law.
The night finds Chris back atop the Golden Gate Bridge, this time sitting dejectedly on one of the massive cable supports while the fog-bound traffic whisks by silently below him. He's even prettier when he's brooding. Sigh. The Dolt orbs in to lecture on the topic of trust, so I take advantage of this opportunity to zone out and just stare at my pretty husband moping on the massive cable support for the few minutes. Eventually, the Dolt admits he still trusts Chris. "After all," he notes, "you did save my son from becoming evil." Chris eyes his father sadly and whimpers, "For now."
Manor. With midnight approaching, Piper wanders through the main hallway in search of Eduardo, whom she discovers perched on the lower landing. "I was just coming to find you," she notes, sounding a bit surprised that he's already waiting for her. "I know," he replies. Piper smiles and allows, "Yeah, that's still kind of strange to me." "I know that, too," Eduardo breathes with what I'm interpreting as a hint of misery in his voice. Because, you know, he was created to know everything about her in order to satisfy her completely and only now realizes that anyone who knows everything about her couldn't possibly satisfy her at all. Shut up. It made sense in my head. And it also means his entire twenty-four-hour existence has been meaningless. That's gotta suck. "I feel like I should apologize or something," Piper begins awkwardly. "Why?" Eduardo asks, rising to join her in the hall. "I'm okay with what's about to happen -- I was made that way." "Weird," Piper opines with a slight shake of her head. Exactly what I said. Pages ago. As the much-abused grandfather clock chimes the hour, Eduardo leans in close to murmur, "Don't ever stop dreaming about me, and never stop looking for love." He plants a lingering wet one on her lips and pulls away at the last moment to offer his final words: "Happy birthday, Piper." With that, he glows up into white rays of light that radiate outwards before vanishing. Piper takes a very long moment to consider what just happened, then smiles softly to herself.
Up in the nursery, Piper checks on The Psycho before crossing to open her gift from the Dolt. It's the missing charm bracelet. Tears well up in Piper's eyes, and Holly Marie Combs is so adept at her chosen profession that tears nearly well up in mine. She holds the bracelet up so the individual charms shine in the dim light, and smiles with a mix of surprised delight and deep, soul-sucking regret. Damn, woman. Stop it. I'm getting verklempt. I also quickly get over it when the shot cuts to the Dolt's assy birthday card, upon which the camera lingers before fading to black.
week, it's curtains for Chronic and The Cooter. Unfortunately, this involves Phoebe turning into a demonically possessed stripper, so it's going to suck. See you there!