Fade up on a horde of grinning yuppies toting their rugrats through the balloon-festooned front door of Halliwell Manor. Seems the littlest Psycho's first-birthday party is in the process of breaking up three weeks after it should have occurred, and Piper and the Dolt stand in the main hall, doling out goodie bags to the remaining yuppies as they pass by on their way out of the house. Piper is drawing these goodie bags from a large and festive "Happy Birthday" sack she clutches against her torso to disguise the fact that Holly Marie Combs is, by now, four hundred and forty-seven weeks pregnant, but oops! Combs leans a little too far over at one point and inadvertently exposes her stomach. In a side view. And yeah, she really does look like a woman who's been pregnant for eight and a half years and counting. Girl is huge. She's going to drop that kid right there on the set if she's not careful. As Aaron Spelling deducts several thousand dollars from Combs's weekly paycheck because she had the gall to appear in one of his productions while visibly pregnant, Piper and the Dolt natter away with two of the remaining yuppie couples, and it's boring, so I'll note that one of the couples who just passed through the door was quite casually interracial, with the dad grinning hugely as he and his mixed-race toddler exited towards the porch. I mention this only because I recently read an article in the San Francisco Chronicle wherein a professor at Berkeley was being interviewed regarding the 3,200 marriage licenses issued to gay couples at City Hall in the last two weeks. She noted that most of her students were unaware that interracial marriage was illegal throughout the United States, generally with Biblical justifications, until California became the first jurisdiction to allow it in 1948, and that some of those same students "sort of gasp[ed]" in shock when they learned such marriages remained illegal in many parts of the country as late as 1967, when the Supreme Court struck down the miscegenation laws that then remained in the appropriately named Loving v. Virginia decision. One of the things not mentioned in the article is that an unenforceable anti-interracial-marriage provision existed in the Alabama state constitution until 2000, when voters in that state finally removed it. Just tossing all that out there to amuse you until something actually happens in this episode, which should be right about…
…now. Sort of. Piper tiredly shuts the front doors after the last of the yuppie couples have exited, and she and the Dolt yammer at the Psycho about what a good boy he was, with Piper adding that she only froze the room once during the entire party. They don't mention why Piper had to freeze the room, but I'm guessing the Psycho got into a non-verbal dispute with another of the rugrats over a chew toy and was on the verge of impaling his fellow brat with a telekinetically flung cake knife when his mother intervened. The kid's a lunatic, is all I'm saying. The Dolt deludes himself, claiming his elder son's murderous over-exuberance was due purely to the birthday party itself. Piper parries that the littlest Psycho "was excited to see you. He misses you." "I know," the Dolt breathes, gazing at the wee sociopath in his arms. "I miss him too."
Raige chooses this moment to amble in from the kitchen with an offer of more champagne. "We don't want it to go to waste," she adds. "How about it, Dad?" "Elders aren't allowed to drink," the Dolt replies, like, that didn't stop you from chugging down a couple of free Coronas at your ex-wife's bar, jackass. Shut up, Dolt. Raige persists, arguing that when the Dolt's "on Earth, [he] should do as earthlings do," but the Dolt declines once more. Piper thanks Raige for all the work she did on the party, but wonders what gives with all the champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries, and oysters on display. "Aren't the kids a little young for the aphrodisiacs?" Raige pretends -- badly -- not to have known about the supposed horny-making properties of the items Piper's just listed, babbles something stupid about how the Manor needs more kids running around underfoot so she might better understand their culinary needs, and whips around to retreat back into the kitchen. The Dolt wrinkles his nose at Piper. "She's been weird since she changed her hair color," Piper shrugs before adding after a bit of thought, "She'll probably change it back." And you know something? I totally didn't notice that Rose McGowan had dyed her hair a sort-of auburn brown until Piper let loose with that line. It's probably because I was distracted throughout that scene by Raige's hideous, yellow-and-grey tube top. Or maybe I was waiting for something of importance to happen. We're already two minutes in, guys. Get it moving already, will you?
Raige clomps into the kitchen with a stack of dirty dishes to inform Phoebe that Piper "knows [they're] up to something." Raige sets the dishes near the sink and crosses to the center island to sigh, "I can't believe how hard it is to get two people laid." "That is disgusting!" Phoebe eye-rolls, and I'm torn, because it is abhorrently disgusting as only a reference to Dolt Sex can be, but then again: Phoebe? Squeamish about matters carnal? Pull the other one. "We are trying to romance Piper and [the Dolt] together," Phoebe corrects, "so they can conceive [Big Gay] Chris, our nephew." Raige is all, "And this is different from what I said…how, exactly?" "What you said is very Springer," Phoebe flusters. "What I said is very Oprah." Raige, rather than clawing Phoebe's eyes out with her fingernails for implying she's no better than the gutter trash that appear on Springer, chooses to remain somewhat calm as she reminds Phoebe that they're running out of time. The two agree to summon the big gay one to update him on the Dolt Sex sitch. Phoebe bellows at the ceiling, and my husband presently orbs in, all, "So how's it going?" and I don't really care what the answer is, because HE FINALLY CUT HIS HAIR! Hooray! It's still a little flippy in the back there, not unlike Jack McPhee's scary mini-mullet at the beginning of the fifth season of Dawson's, but I'll not be complaining, as it's a damn sight better than the assy mess Chris has been tossing around for the last five episodes. In any event, Raige cringes and admits, "Not so good." She's talking about the prospects for his conception, not his hair. Just so we're clear on that. Big Gay Chris freaks. "It has to happen today, or I don't happen!" he panics. "Today?" Phoebe repeats with a bit of disbelief coloring her tone. Yep. Chris "did the math," and if he's not conceived by midnight, he won't be born, no one will travel to the past from 2026 to warn the Glamorous Ladies of Mangy Jesus and his reign of terror, cats will lie down with dogs, the world will end with a whimper, yada yada, doom. Chris suggests slipping the parentals a love potion. Raige immediately shoots this down, but does not explain why. Perhaps it's for the same mysterious and annoying reason she broke up with Buttfuck, but the less said about him, the better. Phoebe suggests that they simply explain the situation to Piper and the Dolt and hope the two take appropriate action. "And give them a massive case of performance anxiety," Raige snorts dismissively. The kitchen three mope for a bit until the familiar sounds of demonic hijinks reach their ears from the Manor's main hall.
Out in the foyer, Piper vanquishes a bit of the staircase's balustrade with her Hands Of Discontent, with the force of the explosion flipping a dark-haired, black-clad, crossbow-bearing Darklighter down to the landing. The Dolt darts towards the littlest Psycho as the Darklighter rises to his feet and -- what do they call this? Black orbing? I don't care, because it's not important. What is important is that this Dolt-hating Darklighter's name is Damien. Against my better judgment, I giggled for about fifteen minutes when I first learned the character's name two months ago, and the mere thought of it's been bringing a wicked grin to my face ever since. Problem is, Edoardo Ballerini looks absolutely nothing like me and does, in fact, look like a Sicilian Christian Slater, but I suppose that's neither here nor there. So, let's see: I darklight off the stairwell, landing over to the Psycho near the front doors; raise my crossbow; and fire off a shot in slow motion at the Dolt's vile and enormous gargoyle head, because I hate it so much. Also because it's a totally easy target, and this is coming from a guy who can't hit the broad side of a barn with a basketball from three feet away. Unfortunately, the Dolt orbs upwards at the last second, and the arrow passes through the cloud where his neck should have been to zip past a stunned Piper and towards an equally shocked Big Gay Chris, who has just this instant loped out of the kitchen into the dining room. Phoebe shoves my husband to the floor as Raige reverses the arrow's trajectory with her orbing telekinesis, sending it back through the hallway and into my shoulder. Because God knows I've endured far greater pain recapping this shit over the last four years, I merely grunt a little and gaze with unalloyed loathing at the Dolt as he orbs back in at my side to retrieve the Psycho from the floor. After a bit, I darklight on out of there, leaving the Manor Morons to gape at each other. The camera cuts to a shot of Big Chris on the floor behind the dining room table, and for some reason, the shot prominently features his rear end. Dude. I think Joel Feigenbaum wants to do my husband. Back off, bitch, or I'll bust an arrow in your lousy ass, too. "Thanks for saving my life," Chris tells the Feebs. "Hope it wasn't for nothing." Raige offers him a "buck up, little camper" half-smile before they all redirect their attention to the parentals and the Psycho at the far end of the hall. The Dolt and his elder son stare slack-jawed at Piper as she tosses her fabulous mane of glossy hair into the opening credits.
The oddly prolonged Opening Travelogue is accompanied by a shrill ovary who thinks she's Donna Summer doing "I Feel Love." Zip it, shrike. We eventually arrive at the Manor, where Phoebe's siphoning a bit of my blood from the floorboards with an eyedropper. Once she's completed her task, Phoebe joins the others in the center parlor, where Piper acidly intones, "At least he waited until after the party to attack. That was nice of him." Thanks, sweetie. I pride myself on my manners. Piper, by the way, is ensconced in the depths of an overstuffed armchair with a rather large pillow clutched to her chest to disguise the fact that Holly Marie Combs is, by now, four hundred and fifty-two weeks pregnant. The Manor Morons bang their heads together about my possible motives, with the Dolt opining that I was actually after him, as he was, after all, the only person I drew a bead on when I arrived at the Manor. Raige, perhaps thinking there's an opportunity for Dolt Sex here, suggests that he orb Piper and the Psycho up to Whitelighterland until the others have taken care of me. Piper finds this an excellent plan, and immediately agrees to tag along. "But," the Dolt hesitates, "you're not allowed." Piper grunts all, "I was last week, dick-for-brains. Christ on a motherfucking stick, remind me again why I agreed to marry your stupid ass in the first place?" Or maybe she simply rolls her eyes, sighs, and suggests Not!warts as an alternate sanctuary, as none of them can be injured there. "Great!" Raige enthuses, still on her Dolt Sex kick. "One big, happy family!" Piper and the Dolt rise to prep the Psycho for the trip, leaving Big Gay Chris alone with his aunts. Chris wonders if they should let the parentals in on his little secret. Raige insists they take care of me first, so the Feebs heads off to scry for my current location while Raige rises to prepare a love potion. "I thought you were against that," Chris side-eyes. "Not if it's gonna save one of my two favorite nephews," Raige winks, before breezing past him as the much-abused grandfather clock chimes three.
Over at TWoP Towers (or, you know, down in Hell. Shhh!), Glark pushes the arrow through my shoulder and out my back while Aaron and Stee futz around their forge, hammering out a quiver of new pointy things for my attempt on the Dolt's worthless life. Bet you didn't know they were skilled metalworkers, now did you? We teem with hidden talents here at Television Without Pity. Lounging around in the background in an variety of cunning and slimming black outfits are Shack, Couch Baron, Uncle Bob, Djb,Omar,Daniel, andGustave. Uncle Bob's looking a little Goth this evening. How…odd. The remaining TWoP staffers, meanwhile, are lounging inThe Waste Land, sucking down smart cocktails while gathering exciting new powers from the wimpy vanquished losers that occasionally hurtle from the sky, waiting for theSex And The Cityseries finale to start. The rest of us will be joining them shortly, but you probably guessed that.PreviousNext
Anyway, Glark is all, "Smooth move, Ex-Lax -- getting yourself sporked with one of your own arrows," and I'm all, "I got their attention, didn't I?" I must admit, I'm not very bright in this scene, which I attribute to the fact that I was still brutally hung over from the five-day bender I embarked upon after finishing the recap for "Headless Bitches." God, that one sucked. Anyway, Glark is all, "So, when can we expect the Glamorous Ladies to arrive?" and I'm all, "Any second now, because it's in the script." Glark wonders if the Dolt will join them, now that he knows we all want to kill him. "Don't worry," I assure him. "He's contractually obliged to behave in as stupid a manner as the rest of them." I wearily call out an order for another dozen Rolling Rocks. Erm. "Arrows." You know, for later. Shack is all, "Listen, Snitty Dukakis, I know you overdid it last night, but what the hell were you drinking -- lighter fluid? Stee and Aaron are on it. They've been on it since this fucking scene started!" I'm all, "Back off, bitch. No one forced you into that Tru Calling gig, so don't take that bullshit out on me." Glark cuts through the playful banter to wonder if I'm still up for a little Dolt slaughter, what with the massive hangover and the gaping hole in my shoulder and everything. "Are you kidding?" I snort. "I've been waiting for this since that lard-ass bumbled onto the screen in the third-season premiere. Bring it on!" And with that, I trudge off to change into something fresh and unbloodied. Glark turns to the other guys to remind them that we're not to harm the Ps, no matter how much we all want Phoebe dead as well. The target is the Dolt, and the Dolt alone. The other guys set aside their beers to play with the crossbows.
Not!warts Not-So-Great Hall. Some bored work-study chick casually and telekinetically flings library books onto a shelf until the tiresome Gideon smears in to chide her for handling her "legacy" in so casual a fashion. The work-study chick's all, "You pay me five-fifty an hour, jackhole. You want better service? Give me a raise." The Dolt enters at this point, and boring! He babbles something clueless about protecting the littlest Psycho by helping Raige and Phoebe get rid of me, but Gideon shoots him down. The Dolt belongs up in Whitelighterland with the other ever-useless Elders. If a dark demonic force captured the Dolt while he was earthbound, said dark demonic force would be able to infiltrate Whitelighterland and off the few ever-useless Elders that remain after Bogtrotter and Bitch Tits slaughtered most of their number in last season's finale. "It's time for you to fully accept your calling," Gideon intones, splitting an infinitive. "One that necessarily transcends the sins of the flesh -- family, even fatherhood." Whoa. When did Gideon decide to go all Paul of Tarsus on us? "Sins of the flesh"? Fuck you, you tedious pommy shithead. In any event, the Dolt insists that he won't follow Gideon's advice until he's certain the Psycho's safe. With that, he orbs out through the ceiling. Gideon tries to look menacing as he strides out of the frame.
P3. Big Gay Chris sits at the desk in the office, consulting various scraps of parchment while measuring angles on an astrological chart, presumably his own. He's interrupted by the club's janitor, a Magical Black Man named Clarence -- and yes, the It's A Wonderful Life reference is, I'm sure, deliberate, and as asinine as everything else about this godforsaken show. Well, except for all of us recappers in that last scene. We're fabulous. Now, before any of you fire off stroppy e-mails about the whole Magical Black Man thing, consider Magical Black Clarence's major lines in this scene: When Big Gay Chris claims he's been too busy lately to enjoy San Francisco's fine February weather, Magical Black Clarence replies, "The whole world seems to be too busy nowadays. Seems like nobody's got time to just enjoy the day anymore." Then, when Chris lets slip that "it doesn't get any better in the future, either," Magical Black Clarence lets loose with, "Future don't mean squat to me -- I'm too old to worry about it. Shouldn't to you, either -- you're too young." Only Magical Black Men talk like that. And with that, I'll be moving on, because the purpose of this scene is simply to establish that Magical Black Clarence is someone Big Gay Chris knows and more-or-less trusts, and that Big Gay Chris feels woozy. Now that we've accomplished both goals, let's get to the bit, shall we?
Attic. Raige flings something into her love potion, which unexpectedly erupts, belching out a cloud of foul black smoke. Phoebe, scrying for me from a perch on Aunt Pearl's settee, suggests that "maybe it just wasn't meant to be." "Phoebe!" Raige howls, outraged. "Come on," Phoebe leads, "you weren't thinking the exact same thing?" Raige cops to a moment of doubt before insisting, "Chris is meant to be," as she angles around the potions table to approach Phoebe with a pair of stubborn fists on her hips. "Not if he changed too much by coming here," Phoebe argues. "You know, messed up his own timeline?" She sighs and adds, "I think we just have to face the reality that Chris's destiny might have been just to come here and warn us about [the Psycho], and that's all." Except for the fact that Big Gay Chris explained in the pre-credits sequence that were he not born, he would never have been able to warn them about the Psycho. So I guess this evening's Dolt Sex is pretty much a foregone conclusion, and Phoebe's a moron, right? Right. Raige suddenly glances off to the side and jumps in surprise before offering a guilty-sounding "Hey."
Phoebe and the camera follow her gaze to spy Big Gay Chris himself, lounging against the doorframe, his face partially obscured in shadow as a bright white stream of light rather photogenically pours into the room from the window behind him. The backlighting's giving him a little halo here, and that homewrecker Feigenbaum better watch his fucking back. Phoebe instantly apologizes for the above bit of speculation on her part, letting the scrying crystal drop to the map as she does so, but Chris kindly assures her it's okay. He's been plagued by his own doubts as of late as well. He also admits he's been feeling a little wonky. "It feels like I'm…I'm floating?" he explains. "Like I'm not really here, you know?" The three puzzle about this for a moment before the scrying crystal starts spinning quickly around of its own accord on a set of map coordinates. "Never seen it do that before," Raige harrumphs. "Maybe that means there's more than one?" Phoebe guesses before bolting to fetch Piper. Chris offers to help, but Raige insists that he remain in the attic to finish the potion. "When we come back, your parents will be in the mood," she assures him, as if trying to convince herself of that as much as she is Chris. They sort of gaze at each other, quietly calling bullshit, but Chris ambles over to the table anyway as Raige exits into the upper hall.
Over in what appears to be a rapidly gentrifying warehouse district, the Dolt slides the Grand Cherokee up to the curb, and the Manor Morons disembark. Piper wonders if Phoebe's certain the crystal picked the right spot, the implication being that it's an awfully busy intersection for a demonic attack, and in broad daylight, no less. "It could be a trap," she frets, before suggesting that the Dolt might want to make himself scarce. He reminds her that he's the bait, and besides, he can orb them all out of there should they discover they're confronting more than they can handle. Raige volunteers to remain at Phoebe's side for orbing purposes. The Dolt should stick close to Piper, she adds, "For Chris's…uh, [the Psycho's] sake." Real smooth, Raige. Not.
The Manor Morons disappear into an alleyway, warily looking around for me. Uncle Bob pops up on a nearby rooftop, his crossbow aimed at the Dolt's massive cranium. Piper deploys her Hands Of Discontent, and Uncle Bob vanishes in an explosive gout of flame. Or so we would have them believe. Muah ha ha ha ha. Couch Baron and Omar take his place on the roof, so Raige grabs Phoebe's hand to orb upwards while shouting instructions to the Dolt. Once the gals rematerialize at the guys' side, they fling a pair of potion vials at my fellow recappers, who oblige them by pretending to blaze their merry way down to Hell. Shack darklights in behind the knockered nitwit and slams his crossbow into her head. God, I bet that felt good. Phoebe hoots and yodels and flies over the side of the building to drop two or three stories, where she lands heavily on a Dumpster before bouncing off the Fun Bags to crash, unconscious, on the asphalt below. Piper raises her hands to her face in horror as Shack giggles and darklights on out of there. I am so jealous. Piper and the Dolt charge towards the prone Feebs just as I appear in the alleyway behind them. Raige screams a warning, so Piper spins around to unleash her Hands. I howl and wail and erupt into a fireball that expands to engulf both Piper and the Dolt, who vanish along with me. "Piper!" Raige shrieks, completely ignoring the fact that her stupid ex-brother-in-law is also missing. Heh. Raige pulls herself together and orbs down to the Feebs, who seems to be oozing red food coloring from the gash in her scalp, if that stain on Raige's hand is anything to go by. Raige helps her sister to her feet, and the two stagger out of the alleyway to the Grand Cherokee to run the Feebs over to The Only Hospital In San Francisco.
thing we know, Raige is recklessly peeling out of the parking spot, sending other cars and various pedestrians scampering out of her way, and she must have hotwired the goddamned thing because the Dolt had the keys. Stupid show. The camera cranes up above the bustling street as the Grand Cherokee disappears in the distance before the screen suddenly flashes white. When the picture returns, the street's both deserted and drained of color. Not entirely black and white, just sort of pallid and blue-tinted, if you know what I mean. And what I mean is, somebody swiped the ChinoCam from The O.C., bitch. Piper storms into the bottom of the frame, shouting for her sisters before halting to wonder, "What's going on? Where did everybody go?" The Dolt appears at her side as the camera swoops back down to street level. "I think we should get out of here," he urges, as the shot cuts to a jittery hand-held that shudders around the two as they muddle through their current predicament. Piper insists she's not going anywhere without Phoebe. "She's hurt," she reminds her idiot of an ex-husband. "At least she's alive," he mutters. "What is that supposed to mean?" Piper demands. "I don't know," the Dolt lies, "but I think we need to get off the street while we figure this out." Piper realizes that The Only Hospital In San Francisco is nearby, and immediately heads off in that direction. The Dolt grabs her arm, babbling, "You don't understand -- we can't worry about them right now. We need to worry about us." Piper's about to go medieval on his worthless ass when she spots me loping out of the alleyway with my crossbow. I must say, the ChinoCam is most forgiving as far as my hung-over features are concerned. Clears those under-eye bags right up, doesn't it? In any event, I spot her, arch a brow, and note that she's "not supposed to be here." "According to the script, I am," she retorts before wondering why I'm not a pile of little Darklighter bits back in the alleyway. She flicks her Hands in my direction, but nothing happens. The Dolt latches onto her arm to orb, but his powers are gone as well. I smirk and slide an arrow into my crossbow, despite the fact that I never fired off the one that was in there when I arrived a few seconds ago. Don't blame me. Blame the booze. Piper and the Dolt immediately scamper off down the deserted street as I casually amble after them. The camera leaps into the air once more as I call out, "You can run, but you can't hide! You're in my world now!" I abruptly vanish into the commercial break wondering how I ever let them talk me into delivering that idiotic line.
TWoP Towers. Glark tosses Shack up against the wall all, "You were supposed to leave The Hairy One alone." Shack whatevers -- the pleasure he received knocking Phoebe on her bony hag ass far outweighed the fear of any scolding that might have come from Glark afterwards. Glark's forced to agree on that point, so the two head off to the bar for a couple of shots. Oh, they also mention that Piper, the Dolt, and I are on "the ghostly plane," and confirm we're all powerless as long as we're there. Thanks for the exposition, guys. You can put those Jagermeisters on my tab.
The Only Hospital In San Francisco. A doctor examines Phoebe's X-rays and announces that although she suffered no more than a mild concussion, he'd still like to keep her overnight for observation. Phoebe insists on leaving right away. The doctor tries to talk her out of it, but eventually relents and passes her a release form to sign. Phoebe scribbles out her name -- let's hope she spelled it right this time -- and thanks him before hopping back onto her gurney to get dressed. Out in the hall, Raige paces around distractedly until she spots Phoebe's doctor barreling out of the exam room to take on what appears to be a mass casualty now entering the ER doors. Raige darts into the exam room to worry her pretty little head over Piper's disappearance and the possible loss of Big Gay Chris. "If Piper were gone," Phoebe assures her, "I would sense it." Raige doesn't quite buy this, but silently follows Phoebe back into the hall, where Phoebe oh-my-gods at all of the injured. Raige exposits that a truck hit a bus. Phoebe, whose Fucking Backup Band should be hurling her into an empathic seizure right about now, simply gazes sadly down the hall. The hall flares white and…
…we're back in The Ghastly Plane. Piper enters the seemingly abandoned hospital, calling for her sisters. Racing in after her, the Dolt insists, "They're not here!" and I must admit, Piper's being uncharacteristically dumb about this whole thing. Hell, the ChinoCam should have tipped her off the second they emerged from the alleyway. I suppose we're meant to believe her concern for Phoebe has overridden her higher cerebral functions, but I'm thinking it's more a matter of the Dolt's special brand of stupid sucking her brain straight out of her ear. In any event, the Dolt hastily blurts out his theory regarding recent events, to wit: I somehow conspired to trap them in an alternate reality that "coexists with [their] world, but not with [their] lives," with neither their powers nor her sisters. Well, he's partly right. Piper, still being a brickhead, clomps down the vacant hallway shouting for Phoebe as the screen flares white and…
…we head back in the real world, where Phoebe hears Piper's barely audible voice echoing above the general mayhem of the emergency room. Phoebe and Raige puzzle about this for a moment until their attention's distracted by someone flatlining in a nearby room. They rather rudely push their way over to the door to rubberneck as Phoebe's doctor zaps the dying bus driver's chest with those paddle thingies. What? Oh, shut up. If you want proper hospital terminology, go bang on Heathen's door. Phoebe and Raige wince and look so very sad as the screen flares us back to…
…The Ghastly Plane, where Piper's still being unusually pig-headed about the whole situation as the Dolt pleads with her to get her act together already. "Dammit!" he breathes, reaching for her arm. "I don't want you to get hurt, too!" Something in his tone does something to her, but I couldn't for the life of me tell you what the hell those somethings are. Piper's eyes dart over to another section of the hallway, and the Dolt turns to find the bus driver standing there, nearly as clueless as the Dolt is. Everyone's a little freaked, and the three stand in awkward silence, staring at each other until the bus driver asks, "Am I dead?" "[Dolt]?" Piper cautiously intones. "What's going on?" The bus driver repeats the Dolt's name before asking if he's an angel. Meanwhile, out on the street, I vomit and vomit and vomit until the last bit of my stomach lining comes shooting out of my nose. No sooner has the bus driver made me hurl than he leaves, slowly fading out until he disappears entirely. "I know what plane we're on," the Dolt whispers. "The [Ghastly] Plane!" Piper's all, "Yes…and? This means nothing to me, you fuckwit." The screen flares, slamming us back into…
…the real world, where the bus driver regains both his pulse and his consciousness at the same time. It could happen. Not. Phoebe and Raige turn to leave, but stop short when the bus driver breathes all dreamily, "Dolt! You must be an angel!" Oh, gross. Just as the gals call for a processing summit to hash out this latest shred of information, Phoebe twists violently to one side, clutching at her upper arm. "Piper!" she exclaims as the screen flares white to zap us back over to…
…The Ghastly Plane. To get Piper out of the way, I've attempted to pin her to the wall by shooting an arrow through her jacket sleeve. You know, like they did, what, three and half years ago? Sigh. This show is never going to get cancelled, is it? Anyway, my aim was a little off -- the booze, don't you know -- and I seem to have nicked her arm. She slowly drops to the floor while I smack the Dolt's bitch-ass up in another corner of the empty lobby. As part of my cunning plan, I allow the Dolt to think he's getting the upper hand by letting him boot me around a little bit before I scramble back to my crossbow. Shut up. You don't know. The Dolt retrieves the ex-wife and hustles back out into the street as I trail along calmly after them. Damn. I should have seen if they had any Vicodin lying around before I left.
The Real Manor. Raige orbs into the main hall with Phoebe, who's nattering something about having felt Piper's presence in the hospital. From above, Big Gay Chris calls out to his aunts, who turn to greet him as he descends the stairs. "You're okay!" Raige grins. "Which means Piper and [the Dolt] are okay," Phoebe realizes. "I don't know about them," Chris shrugs with a somewhat apologetic half-smile, "but I'm running out of time here." He raises his left hand, which is transparent. Along with the sleeve of his t-shirt, like, what -- did he lug the thing back from 2026, and must Piper have sex with the Dolt to ensure its future existence as well? I'm so confused. Phoebe and Raige goggle in dismay as Big Gay Chris gazes sadly at his vanishing hand before greeting the oncoming commercial break a pair of forlorn puppy-dog eyes. Awwww!
The Real Manor, attic division. Phoebe slams the Book of Shadows shut in frustration and growls in despair. She and Raige bang their weeny little skulls together and eventually figure out that the bus driver actually saw the Dolt when he flatlined in the hospital, which must of course mean I somehow banished Piper and the Dolt to Limbo or somewhere by means of a fake vanquish. Phoebe, reenergized, flips through the Book for a relevant entry on ghosts.
The shot cuts to take in the Bay Bridge at dusk, brightly lit and laden with evening rush-hour traffic as the lights of Oakland twinkle in the distance. Suddenly, everything winks out as we return to The Ghastly Plane, and the now-deserted bridge looms ominously in the growing darkness. That was pretty cool. Elsewhere, Piper and the Dolt huddle together on a gloomy rooftop, hiding from me while the Dolt tends to Piper's wound. The Dolt strips off his shirt and "manfully" shreds it with his bare hands to fashion a bandage for Piper's arm. "Wow," she breathes. "Impressed?" he laughs. "Very," she replies. They exchange A Look Fraught With Significance before Piper breaks the staring contest to note that she imagined the afterworld would include "meadows [and] waterfalls, maybe even a harp." The Dolt grins and explains that The Ghastly Plane isn't really the afterworld -- "it's a place before that to ease the transition," and I'm not sure how comforting that would be to, say, someone who met his end in a Nazi gas chamber. Or a California gas chamber, for that matter. Or inside the hull of the Arizona. Or trapped in the elevator on the Lusitania twenty miles off the Irish coast, or crushed beneath a slag heap in Wales, or in any one of the millions of horrible places where people have died over the centuries. Bad, bad Brad Kern. Think these things through before you put them in the script, 'kay?
Needless to say, such unpleasant thoughts do not trouble Piper's mind, because she's apparently had a lobotomy especially for this episode, and so the two reminisce about their relationship, flirting subtly with each other the entire time. During all of the eye-fucking, they guess that I opened a portal masked by the fake vanquish, and that's how I knocked them into The Ghastly Plane. They also realize that someone must be helping me, because Darklighters don't have the sort of power necessary to manipulate the various planes of existence. Or do I? Mua ha ha ha ha ha. Piper wonders if the portal's still back in the alleyway. The Dolt supposes it is, but the real question is, how do they access it without their powers? "By making Phoebe and [Raige] use theirs," Piper duhs. "Why can't we haunt them, you know? Make contact like other ghosts do?" The Dolt stammers an explanation that isn't, involving the difficulty most ghosts have in making the necessary connections with the living, so Piper cuts through the crap by claiming that her sisterly bond should make things much easier. The Dolt concedes her point, and the two rise to head back to The Ghastly Manor, as Phoebe and Raige are likely abusing the Book of Shadows at that very minute. "That's probably where the Darklighter will be waiting for us," the Dolt cautions. "He knows us. He's studied us." Well, I know you, but there was little study involved. Just ninety-one recaps. And counting. By the way, thanks for making me look, you bastard.
And sure enough, there I am waiting for them, perched with my crossbow on the gabled roof of the death house across Prescott from The Ghastly Manor, eyeing the darkened attic windows on the other side of the street. Or rather, I would be eyeing the darkened attic windows on the other side of the street if the house they use for the exteriors matched up with the sets they constructed for the show. There's no attic atop the house on Carroll Avenue near Echo Park. No, seriously. Go back and look. You've got the second floor with the window to Piper's supposed bedroom facing the street, and then immediately above it, the roof. I'm ashamed of myself for never noticing that before. Stupid fucking show. By the way, some smartass in the set decoration department has placed a weathervane topped by a large cast-iron cat on the roof just over my right shoulder. Get it? A black cat? No, do you get it, because I don't mind -- I can wait right here until you do. Or, you know, wait right here until the script tells me I have to fire off the shot that shatters through the non-existent attic window to kill the Dolt. Whichever comes first.
The Real Manor. Big Gay Chris, now completely transparent, passes through a wall to enter the main parlor from the hall. "Whoa," he Keanus. "Not good." "It's almost time, Chris," calls an off-screen voice, and Chris turns to find Magical Black Clarence lurking in the foyer. Chris freaks and tries to hide, and to Feigenbaum's credit, when Big Gay Chris angles himself into a birthday-balloon-crowded niche to a mirror mounted on the wall, the balloons don't move, and Chris casts no reflection in the glass. Normally, they'd screw something like that up. Oh, please -- you know they would. Feigenbaum still needs to keep his skeevy hands off my husband, though. The lecher. Anyway, Chris's little game of hide-and-go-seek is all for naught, for Magical Black Clarence, you see, is "an angel of death," sent to make "this" a little easier for Big Gay Chris. Magical Black Clarence travels with a fucking backup band of his own, apparently, and I'm having a hard time hearing the dialogue above the unearthly caterwauling of his all-male choir, so I'll stick to a description of the action. Magical Black Clarence offers Transparent Gay Chris his hand to escort him to wherever it is that people who were born, travel back in time, and screw up their timeline to the point that they no longer exist go. Transparent Chris is all, "You stay away from me!" with the pointing and such as he scurries up the stairs. Magical Black Clarence shrugs and bides his time in the foyer.
Meanwhile, up in the attic, Phoebe's lighting a circle of candles on the floor, as she and Raige intend to summon Piper and the Dolt through a séance. Transparent Gay Chris enters, because the script said he had to. Phoebe and Raige sigh at his translucence, then recite the following Raige-penned spell:
Sister spirit, we call to thee:
Cross on over so we may see.
Transparent Gay Chris instantly disappears. "Wait," Phoebe guhs. "That wasn't supposed to happen, was it?" Raige pouts.
The Ghastly Plane. I stare from my perch at the non-existent attic windows as Piper and the Dolt enter the non-existent room in question. Chris on! "What are you doing here?" the Dolt wonders. "Ceasing to exist, I think," Chris stammers. Chris off!
The Real Non-Existent Attic. Chris on! "I just saw Piper and [the Dolt]," he informs his aunts. Chris off!
The Ghastly Non-Existent Attic. Chris on! He hastily explains to the parentals that he's their only connection to Phoebe and Raige, and the latter need to know how to get Piper and the Dolt back to the real world. Chris off!
The Real Non-Existent Attic. Chris on! He babbles an explanation about the portal just as Gustave and Daniel darklight into the room. Phoebe and Raige spin around to confront my fellow recappers as the guys level their crossbows.
The Ghastly Non-Existent Attic. The Dolt wanders over to the non-existent windows as I adjust the little scope on my crossbow to aim directly at his chest. By the way, for the purposes of this POV through my scope, the production staff has decided to pretend that Piper's bedroom window leads into the attic. Assholes. Peeved, I squeeze off a shot. At the last minute, the stupid Dolt pivots to look back at Piper, and the arrow slices clean through his shoulder. He of course unleashes his patented Constipated Chimpanzee Face Of Unbearable Anguish And Torment before dropping to the floor. Piper rushes to his side and drags him from the room as I smirk in triumph.
The Real Non-Existent Attic. Phoebe and Raige pop up from behind Aunt Pearl's settee to flip a couple of vials at Gustave and Stee, who pretend to blaze their merry way straight down to Hell. Phoebe instantly realizes that Piper has left the building. Meanwhile, Transparent Gay Chris grows ever fainter. He rather calmly bids them farewell as he fades out completely. Phoebe and Raige just stand there with mouths agape as the screen flares white and we bounce back to…
…The Ghastly Plane. Piper and the Dolt have returned to the alleyway, and the grievously injured Dolt now frets about finding the portal on their own. "What are you doing?" Piper asks, more concerned about his injury than her own safety. "Trying to save you," he gasps. "You mean, you're trying to save us," she replies. "Don't you?" The Dolt's silence unnerves her, so she forces him to sit down on a handy stoop and suggests that since the arrow blew straight through his body, he might be okay. "It'll just take longer," he reminds her. He exhorts her to keep trying to contact Phoebe and Raige, no matter what happens to him. Piper, not having it, and already brittle due to the stress of the situation, snaps, "Would you please stop trying to save me?" Her expression indicates that she's instantly sorry for letting that slip. The Dolt smiles sadly and whispers, "I'm sorry I got you into this." "Yeah," she cracks, averting her eyes, "one ordeal after another, right?" The Dolt gets misty and reaches out to touch her cheek as Piper bites her lower lip and begins to cry. "I never stopped loving you," he finally -- finally -- admits, and the legions of people who actually care about this relationship cheer as Piper dives in for a kiss. And by "the legions of," I mean "the three." The camera discreetly fades to black just as these two bozos hurl themselves into a bout of Crisis Sex right there in the cold, dark alley. Is this supposed to be romantic? I should have aimed for the fucker's skull.
Not!warts. Gideon enters his study to find Raige and Phoebe waiting for him. The gals babble out a brief and incoherent recap of recent events, and ask for his help. Gideon chooses instead to speechify about what a moron the Dolt is for remaining on Earth after his promotion. Raige cuts through the crap to note that they know where the portal is; they just don't know how to reverse it. Gideon strides over to a nearby table, rummages around for a moment, and returns to present them with a book open to an entry entitled, "Everything You Wanted To Know About Portals But Were Afraid To Ask." I want to die. "Handy," Raige perks. Shut up, Raige.
The Ghastly Plane, the morning. A post-coital yet mercifully clothed Dolt stands at the mouth of the alley, waiting for me to amble on in to finish the job, I suppose. Piper, curled up in a corner behind him and employing her jacket as a makeshift blanket to disguise the fact that Holly Marie Combs is, by now, four hundred and seventy weeks pregnant, wakes up and greets him. The Dolt attempts to initiate the mandatory awkward post-Crisis-Sex apology, but Piper cuts him off, insisting she has no regrets about what transpired the evening. The Dolt smiles and agrees with the whole no-regrets thing, then plonks himself down by her side to launch into a very, very long monologue that basically amounts to "And I-eeeee-IIIIIIIIIIIII! Have always loved you-oo-oo-oo-oo!" It's endless, and pains me deeply. At some point, he manages to squeeze in the fact that because he's now accepted his destiny as an ever-useless Elder, he's dumping her again. Romance! Hey, don't look at me. You people are the ones who wanted these two to get back together. Brad Kern just gave you what you asked for.
In any event, I finally enter to put a stop to this nonsense. The Dolt rises to protect the woman he just knocked up but is dumping anyway, and I make some empty threats against Piper's life while training my crossbow on the lumpy-headed moron as the color starts bleeding back into the scene, along with various noises from the street outside. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Raige calls out from somewhere behind me, leading me to jump and spin around to face her. "'Cause this time I'll vanquish you for real," Raige finishes as Phoebe smirks by her side. They stride into the alleyway as Piper cheerfully snipes, "Well, it's about time!" "Who sent you?" Phoebe demands. I vamp for time until Glark darklights onto the roof above, sets his beer down, and "sporks" me with an arrow. I howl and wail and head down to The Waste Land, where Sars greets me kindly with a much-needed scotch and soda. ["Least I could do." -- Sars] Topside, Glark retrieves his brewski and darklights the hell on out of there.
The second we're gone, Big Gay Chris flickers into the alleyway, and I'm guessing he didn't reappear until now because it took The Stupid Dolt Sperm that long to find the appropriate egg. Big Chris immediately and ecstatically pumps both of his fists into the air with joy while shouting, "Yessss! I'm back!" Oh, Chris. You're so cute when you're trying to be butch. "Wait," Phoebe splutters. "How is that possible?" "Don't ask me," Chris shrugs. "Ask them." Before anyone present gets to quiz Piper and the Dolt on their recent bout of Crisis Sex, the Dolt collapses to the ground. Raige scampers over to orb both Piper and the Dolt over to Gideon, who is apparently the only person around who can heal him.
A hill. Alcatraz. The Golden Gate Bridge. The Dolt stands high above the traffic whizzing by on the deck below as Gideon orbs in beside him and wow! BORING! The Dolt pouts about heading to Whitelighterland permanently. Gideon wastes precious oxygen speechifying about the necessity of sacrifice, or some such bullshit. The Dolt caves and orbs upwards. Gideon broods. Yawn.
P3. Magical Black Clarence sneaks up on Big Gay Chris in the club's office, but he's just there to wish Chris well, and to remind him that he's "been given a second chance." "Don't waste it," Magical Black Clarence adds before turning to flare out, never to be seen again. Big Gay Chris gazes thoughtfully after him. Big Gay Chris also has a big old hateful rainbow on his button-down shirt. Hee. It's like this whole episode has been one giant shout-out to me. Brad, you shouldn't have. No really, you shouldn't have, because I'm still giving it a B.
Manor. Piper, clad in a lovely loose-fitting brown silk blouse with her hair done up in a decidedly mother-like fashion that adds about ten years to her apparent age, watches the littlest Psycho sleep for a very long moment before easing the nursery door shut and returning to her boudoir. Therein she finds an antsy Phoebe and Raige. "What's goin' on?" she asks, a bit surprised. "Maybe you should sit down for a second," Phoebe begins. "Oh, that doesn't sound good," Piper warily states, easing herself into a chair. Phoebe, by the way, is sporting a t-shirt emblazoned with a star-spangled "Yankee Doodle" logo that I keep misreading as "Skankee Doodle." Wonder why. "No, it's good!" Phoebe hastily assures her, before amending that statement with, "I mean, it's not bad." "Well, I think it's a really good thing," she clumsily finishes. "Don't you?" she nudges Raige, who instantly perks, "Yeah! Er…I mean, it depends." "Uh-huh," Piper eyebrows, "that sounds worse. Why don't you guys just tell me what's going on?" Phoebe and Raige glance at each other before Phoebe concedes, "Raige and I know what happened between you and the Dolt last night." Piper nearly pops a blood vessel in her brain. "Excuse me?" she yowls. "Not because anybody told us or anything," Raige stammers with calming hands, "it's because of Chris." Piper, amusingly outraged at the thought of the big gay one peeping on them as the Dolt nailed her against a brick wall in that cold, dark alleyway on The Ghastly Plane, hoots, "Why…why would Chris know what happened last night?" "Because he wouldn't be here if it didn't," Phoebe explains. Piper blinks. Phoebe confesses that she and Raige knew all about Chris's big secret for a while, but they had no idea how to break "it" to Piper. "What?" Piper splutters, pretending she doesn't know where this is going. "Chris is your son," Raige finally blurts. "[The Psycho's] brother," Phoebe confirms. "Look, I know this is huge," she adds. Not as huge as Holly's freaking stomach. Just sayin'. "This is crazy," Piper counters, leaping to her feet, "because I'm not pregnant. I mean, how could that happen?" Her eyes widen as she realizes how stupid she's sounding, and she babbles, "I mean, I know how that could happen, but it…" She trails off as it sinks in. "Oh, what am I gonna do?" she wails. Phoebe gently suggests involving the Dolt, resulting in an instant cry of "I can't!" from Piper. Phoebe and Raige squint at each other, wondering why Piper wouldn't inform the Dolt he's got another son. Piper, unwilling to admit he dumped her gullible ass again, stammers, "Because…because I can't!"
Big Gay Chris knocks on the door at this point, catches sight of the expressions on his aunts' faces, and hesitantly wonders if he caught them all at a bad time. Piper turns to look at him, her expression pretty much frozen in shock. We get her point of view, which involves Chris looking vulnerable and oh so achingly pretty as he realizes she knows and struggles to maintain her gaze, as if expecting her to reject him outright. We cut back to Piper, who seems to soften a bit, and…
…we zip over to TWoP Towers, where Gideon's annoying Glark. Shit. Just ban him, dude. He deserves it after interrupting that last scene. Oh, I'm sorry. I neglected to endow that moment with the proper amounts of surprise and -- how shall I put this? -- DUN! that it deserved. I'll try again: Over at TWoP Towers, Gideon's annoying Glark, who really should just ban his evil ass already and join the rest of us down in The Waste Land for the Sex And The City finale. I'm sorry. I can't pretend I didn't know Gideon was evil from the moment he popped up onscreen with his British accent and those nasty chin pubes. Whatever. Glark, feigning interest, wonders what the point of tonight's exercise was if the Dolt remains alive. Gideon replies that they succeeded in getting the Dolt out of the way, and that's all he really wanted. And why is that? Because the ever-useless Elders "made a mistake in allowing [the Psycho] to be born, in allowing such a concentration of power to be brought into this world in one being, but now that [the Dolt] is gone and the Charmed Ones are unaware, [Gideon's] one step closer to being able to correct that mistake for good." Glark, frankly, could not care less if he tried. Nor could the rest of us, my man. Stupid show.
And there are no new episodes for quite a while. See you back here in April, gang.