Fade up on a contemplative Raige, burning the midnight oil with an assist from a can of Red Bull, and sighing in frustration at a large posterboard display mounted on five or six easels that includes the names of various vanquished demons, as well as a map of the city with an enormous red question mark drawn over the downtown area. "Come on," she mopes, "I know we can figure this out." She turns to address the Feebs, who's reclining on a divan on the other side of the nonexistent attic. "Can I get a little help over here, please?" Raige asks. Bad move, Raige, for this opening allows the self-centered hag enough room to launch a self-pitying rant into the stale nonexistent-attic air regarding the loss of her powers and how useless she feels without them. Raige rolls her eyes and tells the Feebs to stuff it sideways. Well, more or less. Phoebe pushes herself up into a sitting position and wonders how Raige can keep going the way she has been -- the implication being, of course, that with Piper confined to Not!warts for the remainder of her pregnancy and Phoebe being a lazy sow as per usual, Raige has assumed most of the household's bitchcraft duties. Raige twists her lips and mugs that she's "been taking a lot of naps" recently. Phoebe smirks and, rising to her feet, opines, "Part of me just thinks that should let him" -- the demon of the week -- "do his thing." "I mean," she clarifies, "a demon killing other demons? Is that so bad?" Raige notes that it is a Very Bad Thing indeed if the demon's embarked upon some sort of power-consolidation kick. After agreeing to keep Piper out of the loop -- because withholding vital information from each other has always worked so well for them in the past -- Phoebe puzzles that "there's no rhyme or reason" to the demon's attacks. "They're just wacky." Raige crosses to another section of the display to announce, "My gut says he's going after the Smoker Demons tonight because Mercury is in retrograde, and that is when they surface." What? I don't need Mercury in retrograde as an excuse to smoke. Wimps. I swear to God, if the dark demonic forces sent from the flaming maw of Hell weren't such pussies about everything, they'd have long ago conquered the planet. In any event, Phoebe offers, "Interesting theory," while clearly thinking Raige is full of shit. "All I know," Raige counters, crossing to the table to scry, "is that the sooner we nail this guy, the sooner I get back to my 'naps,'" and yes, her tone of voice actually added little air quotes to that last word. Don't worry. You'll see. Sweet Jesus, will you see.
Cut to a shot of the nighttime Manor façade before the Demon Cam On Crack shuttles us over to the Transamerica Pyramid, where it spins around for a bit before shooting down a street to arrive at a rather imposing Catholic cathedral. As a bizarre, celestial choir chants the Agnus Dei, a fully vestmented priest enters a small sanctuary somewhere deep within the rather imposing cathedral to futz around with the missals, or something. Because, you know, priests wander around in their full vestments all the time -- even in the middle of the night -- on the off chance a High Mass might break out somewhere. Meanwhile, a sheet of grey smoke pushes unnoticed into the room through a loosely mounted stained-glass window, and wafts across the floor before rising into a twisting pillar that presently clots to disgorge two of the anticipated Smoker Demons. I must admit, it's a pretty cool effect we've got here -- the demons are simply two sets of rust-colored robes with pulsing puffs of smoke where their heads and hands should be. The priest, oblivious, continues puttering in the background as two bleach-blonde floozies in black pleather bustiers with matching slacks flear into the sanctuary, pause for a moment to sneer maliciously, and fling potion vials at the Smoker Demons. The Smokers promptly burst into flame as they howl and wail their merry way down to Hell. The priest turns in time to catch the final explosion as it shudders through the sanctuary and, shocked, mutters, "Dear God." "Not quite," the lead Flearing Floozy sneers, whipping her peroxided locks around to face him before flinging her hands out and grumbling in an overprocessed, masculine basso, "Run!" The priest obliges as best he can, for he is obese.
Left alone, the Flearing Floozies exposit that while they would love to vanquish the priest as well, they're under strict orders to leave him unharmed. "Now let's get out of here," the lead floozy proposes, "before…" Her voice is drowned out by the considerable racket heralding Raige and Phoebe's arrival on a cloud of orbs. The Flearing Floozies turn to confront the, um, regular floozies and snap open these vicious-looking Chinese throwing stars they've apparently been palming this entire time. Well, I'm not seeing any pockets on those trampy get-ups, at any rate. "Nuns?" Raige wonders sardonically. "I don't think so," Phoebe snorts as the lead floozy wings her throwing star in Raige's direction. Flying through the sanctuary, the weapon slices a candle in half before passing harmlessly though Raige's defensive orb cloud to embed itself in the wall. The secondary floozy unleashes her star at Phoebe, who snipers to the floor as the whirling blades ricochet off a chalice and smash into a statue. Raige orbs back in just as the lead floozy deploys yet another throwing star, so she calls out, "Weapon thingy!" and redirects the star with her orbing telekinesis into the secondary floozy's clavicle. The wound erupts in a gout of flame that quickly reduces the nameless and unlamented floozy to a pile of ash on the floor. With the howls of her companion still echoing in the sanctuary, the remaining Flearing Floozy pauses just long enough to glare at the Glamorous Ladies before flearing out.
Raige crosses to help Phoebe to her feet and, once that's done, yanks one of the errant throwing stars out of the wall to acknowledge its value as scrying fodder. Phoebe thinks real hard for a bit and supposes the Flearing Floozies are in the employ of a darker demonic force. Her reasoning? "What powerful demons do you know that would dress that tacky?" You, for one. Tramp. Raige volunteers to head back to the Manor for immediate Book of Shadows abuse, but Phoebe snatches the star from her sister's hand with a promise to abuse the Book herself while Raige gets some rest. Grateful, Raige replies, "I think I will."
Manor. Up in the Prue Halliwell Memorial Bimbo Boudoir Of Paisley Tits Slings And Other Fashion Atrocities, currently occupied by Raige, the lady of the boudoir slips in from the hall, shuts the door tightly behind her, flicks on the lights, smiles in anticipation of what's to come, and summons a set of candles into position on the floor with her orbing TK. As she lights the candles, she recites the following vaguely familiar spell:
A perfect man I summon now --
Another way I don't know how --
Bring him now into the light:
Come back to me, Mister Right.
The candle flames instantly shoot about a foot into the air to emit glittery streams of twinkly golden lights that collide in mid-air above the carpet. The streams presently coagulate and glow, morphing into a fully clothed gentleman who is not, alas, Eduardo Verástegui. In fact, this guy's so egregiously white it almost pains me to look at him. Not Eduardo greets Raige with a silent smile and a somewhat shy glance through his tousled mop of hair. "Welcome back," Raige purrs before horning her way into the opening credits.
Tonight's opening travelogue features some new, oddly warped footage of the corner at Haight and Ashbury; some fresh, oddly animated footage of pigeons flapping past the Palace of Fine Arts in slow motion; and some novel, even more oddly warped footage of Postcard Row. It also includes the techno caterwauling of the one-time Ovary-In-Law of a certain Australian actor whose presence is still missed, even though we're all very glad indeed that his character is long gone. And if I've lavished that much attention on the stupid opening travelogue, you should be able to guess how much I dread recapping the chatty snoozefest that makes up most of this episode. Over at the Manor, Phoebe slouches across the table in the nonexistent attic, clad in last night's clothes and pounding her head in frustration over a pile of letters from her advice column. "Dear Sad In San Jose," she sighs, reading from her scrawled notes on a legal pad. "Try Viagra." Okay, where's the laptop, hon? Unless, of course, your Power of Typing was also revoked during last week's assfest, in which case scribbling out your column in longhand makes all the sense in the world. And while I'm at it, what's with the mad product placement tonight? There's yet another can of Red Bull at Phoebe's side, and now the dimwit's shilling for Pfizer? Whatever. I hate this show. Phoebe rips the topmost sheet from the pad, wads it into a ball, and tosses it to the floor as the Dolt ambles in from the stairwell to open with, "Long night?" Phoebe, surprised, quickly lies that she's been "trying to come up with some summoning spells" "for that mystery demon." She glumly admits she's had no luck as far as that's concerned, but she did pass the Flearing Floozy's throwing star to Big Gay Chris in the hopes that he could work his Underworld connections for a few clues. The Dolt stoops to retrieve the last crumpled sheet of paper from the floor, reads what's written there aloud, and snorts, genially enough, "Nice spell." "Don't ask," Phoebe groans, snatching the thing from his hands before dropping to the carpet to gather the pile of discarded advice littering the carpet. The Dolt, in that helpful mode of his we all love so much, wonders what gives. Long, boring story short, Phoebe's afraid that without her powers, she's back to being the hopeless fuck-up we first met in the series premiere. Not a chance, doll. That hopeless fuck-up was endearing. You're a bitch. The Dolt gives her a little pep talk, reassuring her that she can still "kick ass" as a witch, and snore! The Dolt then urges her to rely on Raige for a little while, much as Raige initially relied upon Phoebe herself back in the day. Raige relied upon Phoebe back in the day? That's news. Though now that I think about it, if she did, it's no wonder she's become so damned annoying over the past couple of seasons. "Where is [Raige], by the way?" the Dolt adds, getting nosy as is his wont. "Sleeping, and don't wake her," Phoebe replies. "She's exhausted. She was tossing and turning all night!"
Smash-cut to Raige and Slampiece Wonder Bread poking their heads out from beneath her duvet to make with the wacky pillow talk before disappearing again to engage in ungodly acts of fornication. Wah. Wah. Waaaaaaah!
Back in the nonexistent attic, Phoebe insists she'd like to pursue the demon of the week without the Dolt's assistance, before awkwardly segueing into a discussion of his future with Piper after Fetal Gay Chris pops out in the season finale. Whoops! Spoiler! Not. The Dolt shamefacedly admits that he has yet to discuss the situation with the ex-wife. "[Dolt]," Phoebe doofs, "you can't just get the woman pregnant and then pretend like nothing happened." "I'm not!" he protests before weakly adding, "It's just…complicated." Phoebe snorts that it's not going to get any less complicated after Chris is born just as my pretty, pretty husband orbs into the nonexistent room to ask, "You talking about me?" "No!" perks the Feebs. "Your fetus!" Big Gay Chris squints at his dizzy hag of an aunt for a moment before expositing that the throwing stars belong to a group of "deadly assassins" known as -- wait for it -- "The Demonatrix." Ooof. And before you start wondering: No, they're never referred to in what would be the correct plural form of that word, likely because the resulting sibilance would make Big Gay Chris sound even more sissified than he already does. Phoebe cracks unwise about Chris keeping his interest in bondage to himself, followed by a tedious bit of business wherein Phoebe exhorts her nephew to address his worthless deadbeat father as "Dad," before Chris drops the following bomb: "Apparently, [the demon of the week] gives his [Demonatrix] assassins vanquishing potions. Charmed Ones' vanquishing potions." "How is that possible?" Phoebe guhs, turning to the Dolt for guidance. Yeah, so much for not replying on his help this week, you shrew. The Dolt guesses the demon's reading their minds, much as Mini-Barbarino did during that endlessly annoying episode a few months ago. No, the other endlessly annoying episode. No, the…you know what? Fuck it. Damn this show. Phoebe and Big Gay Chris immediately fuss over Piper's presumably imperiled safety, with Big Gay Chris offering to orb over to Not!warts to make sure she's okay. The Dolt nixes this idea, ordering Chris back to the Underworld to see if he can track the Demonatrices to their leader. Big Gay Chris gets adorably pouty but obeys, orbing out. Phoebe bolts to "wake up [Raige]."
Who, as happenstance would have it, is already awake -- clothed, if you can call it that, in the camisole top she last sported at the end of "Spin City" and macking atop her bed with Slampiece Wonder Bread. Outside the Boudoir, Phoebe raps on the door. Raige pulls back in a panic and calls out, "Just a minute!" before shoving Wonder Bread to the floor on the other side of the bed. He, of course, goes ass-over-end on his way down and thumps loudly when he lands. Heh. Phoebe pokes her head through the door long enough to inform Raige of her plans to travel to Not!warts with the Dolt, then advises Raige to return to her rest, as they'll summon her if they need her. The instant Phoebe's reshut the door, Slampiece Wonder Bread pops up to make flirty noises in Raige's general direction. He joins her atop the duvet, and I'll take this moment to note that while I initially found Gabriel Olds to be rather off-putting in this role, he won me over to a certain extent during this scene, in which he is at turns playful, puppyish, supportive, and helpful. Poor Eduardo, with his phonetically acquired English, never would have been able to pull it off. Olds is still hella white, though. By the way, this actor was pretty damn good as the preening, self-obsessed soap opera Nazi in Urbania, in which he appeared with everyone's favorite diminutive vampire, Sam Ball. Just tossing that out there to remind you to rent that movie if you haven't already.
In any event, Raige, perhaps feeling a bit guilty about grinding a slampiece she conjured with little regard for that pesky prohibition on personal gain, seems reluctant to take Phoebe's advice, what with the massive demonic headache currently afflicting the Manor's residents. Slampiece Wonder Bread reminds her of her meaningless "raison d'etre" and adds somewhat inexplicably, "You made me to understand you, to pamper you, to fill your every neglected need." "What I really need is…" Raige begins, likely intending to complete the thought with "to get my slatternly ass out of this goddamned bed and help my sisters already." However, Wonder Bread leaps to his feet to enthuse, "A vacation!" "Driving through Tuscany," he continues. "Topless." "'Topless'?" Raige repeats with raised brow. "Not you," Wonder Bread clarifies, "the Porsche -- with the wind in your hair, the sun in your face? Free. Unburdened. Loved." Raige, falling for it, tells him to keep it coming. He promises to "take [her] away from all this" someday, but first she needs to eat. With a sweeping gesture, he conjures a fully laden breakfast tray onto the bed beside her. "Wait a minute," she puzzles. "You can do magic?" "I can do anything you made me do, remember?" he replies. How…convenient. Raige bites into a strawberry, and good Lord, but Rose McGowan looks absolutely asinine when she's trying to be seductive with a piece of fruit. Slampiece Wonder Bread, not caring, smiles fondly as the screen flares white and we…
…flash over to his black-clad and far more sleekly coiffed doppelganger, somewhere deep below ground. He stands before a posterboard display similar to the one we saw at the top of the hour, then turns to address a group of Demonatrices assembled on the other side of the chamber. "Three weeks ago, I came to you," he exposits, getting rough with the various Flearing Floozies by yanking on their hair and too jovially smacking his fists into their shoulders and such. "And what was the first thing I told you? Let me remind you: Trust me. Trust in me and my raison d'etre." If I have to keep typing that phrase tonight, someone's going to die. Probably me, but still. Death, people! And why are they dredging it up from the depths of last fall again? It was never properly explained to the audience in the first place, and no one on this damn show can pronounce it correctly anyway, so why -- why -- couldn't they have dropped it? Wouldn't be the first time a supposedly major character point just vanished, now would it? Whatever. This show hates me. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. Wonder Bread's doppelganger gets loud, shouting something about how one of the ladies present dropped the ball, or something. "I'm sorry, Vincent," last night's lead floozy pleads, "you know that I live only to please you." How terribly antifeminist of the Underworld. Dim idiot deserves what's coming to her, I suppose. Vincent tells her to zip it, then takes a couple of menacing steps backwards before reciting the following:
What once resided in this place
Shall soon be gone, with no haste:
Make this girl age in time
As punishment for her heinous crime.
Completely ignoring that whole "with no haste" bit, last night's lead loser morphs quickly from floozy to crone to skeleton before dissolving into a cascade of bone fragments and dust that drops to the cave's floor. Not bad, that. Also: Thank God the camera remained on the demonette's face during that effects sequence. I wouldn't have wanted to see that old chick in the pleather, you know? Vincent "reiterates" for the benefit of those Demonatrices who remain that he doesn't want the Glamorous Ladies to find him until he's ready for them. "Especially [Raige]," he adds as he turns to enter what appears to be an underground replica of the nonexistent attic, complete with mullioned windows and a little empty stand for the Book of Shadows. Tonight's true leading floozy follows him into the room and, sliding her hands all over his chest, wonders which demon falls on Vincent's hit list. "Not a demon," he reveals with a slight grin. "A Porsche."
Not!warts Library. Piper rests her bloated ass on a sofa while Head On A Nerdy And Tedious Character Actor levitates behind her, searching the upper row of volumes for a book he cannot find. He wonders if he can come down now, as levitation makes Head On A Nerd tense. Piper orders him to check for "Lazardo's Book Of Prophecies, Volume One" first, so Head On A Nerd floats down the row of shelves to retrieve the book in question as the Dolt orbs in with the Feebs, who's changed into a tight, backless, sleeveless blue boobsling. What follows is a scene whose only point, apparently, is to give Holly Marie Combs something to do this evening, for we receive no new information on the various matters at hand, aside from the absolutely stunning revelation that Piper has to pee frequently due to the pressure Fetal Gay Chris exerts on her bladder. No, seriously. No. Seriously. Once Piper's toddled off to the can, Phoebe clomps over to Head On A Nerd and latches onto his arm, trying to force a premonition to "see if [he's] legit." Of course, nothing happens. The two simps quiz Head On A Nerd for a moment, then allow him to…wander off somewhere else. He just leaves. What's up with that? Sigh. Stupid show. The Dolt supposes that, based on Head On A Nerd's answers, Not!warts remains a safe haven for Piper, so the demon of the week must be brain-sucking either Phoebe or Raige, and WE KNOW ALL OF THIS BECAUSE WE JUST WATCHED THE LAST FUCKING SCENE. Phoebe decides to return to the Manor on her own so the Dolt can have a little quality time with his ex-wife. She then scrunches her eyes shut, tenses her shoulders, and clenches her fists. "What are you doing?" the Dolt asks. Trying to pinch out an enormous loaf, from the looks of things. Ooops. I'm wrong. Phoebe's actually trying to orb, like, I no longer have any patience whatsoever for her mind-bending amounts of stupidity, so I'll cut to the bit where the Dolt waves his hand around to send her back to the Manor as Piper reenters the library. The Dolt splutters an excuse for Phoebe's absence, then offers to help Piper in researching potential causes for the Psycho's impending slide into the dark side. Piper, puzzled by but somewhat pleased with the offer, squints and smiles. The Dolt smirks.
Over at an auto dealership, Vincent slides behind the wheel of a Porsche while the nattering salesman annoys me to no end with his overenthusiastic description of the car's various features. "We'll take it," Vincent announces. "Cash or lease?" the salesman asks. Tonight's true leading floozy -- whom the IMDb identifies as "Elisa," so we'll go with that because it's easier to type -- is all, "No, dumbass. We're just gonna take it." She slithers on over to the salesman, grabs hold of his jacket, and hurls him backwards through the air. Vincent shouts, "No!" and, thinking fast, employs a bit of orbing telekinesis to whisk a topless Rolls Royce over in time to break the salesman's fall. Elisa simpers as Vincent reminds her, "We don't hurt innocents." Just then, Chris orbs in on the scene to block the Porsche's path, his arms crossed over his chest. "You!" Vincent spits before tossing the car into gear and slamming his foot down on the gas pedal. Chris, of course, dissolves into a cloud of orbs at the last second, allowing the car to pass through him. Elisa evaluates the situation, realizes she's screwed if she remains there without her master, and quickly flears out. Chris grabs Vincent's discarded cigar for some unknowable reason, hops into a nearby Porsche as the soundtrack goes nuts with what sounds like the music from the luau dance-off in Psycho Beach Party, and hello, pointless car chase I do not have to recap! The boys speed through the deserted streets until Vincent orbs himself out of there, stolen car and all. As Chris nearly rams a conveniently appearing squad car, the salesman arrives on the scene -- on foot -- to scream, "Stop him! He's trying to steal it!" The fuck he get over there so fast? Chris lifts his hands in the air as the cops approach, muttering, "Unbelievable." No shit, hubby o' mine. No. Shit.
Manor. Nonexistent Attic. Phoebe's on the phone with All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me, promising to turn her column in by the deadline, when Chris orbs in from the county jail. Phoebe quickly hangs up so Chris can regale her with his latest exploits. He notes that Darryl promised to cover for him before revealing that the demon of the week tried to run him down with a Porsche. "A demon that drives a Porsche?" Phoebe wonders. "That's different." No, that's your vanquished ex-husband, you dunce. I hate this show. Big Gay Chris adds that Vincent can orb and likes to save innocents. Phoebe takes a moment to wrap her puny, forgetful brain around that one before opining, "Forget tapping into us. It seems like he wants to be us." "Why?" Chris squints with a pissy little disgusted moue forming on his face, and I giggle despite myself. "Why else?" Phoebe replies. "To kill us." Chris has been scrying for Vincent's location with the cigar butt during all of this, and the scrying crystal chooses this moment to slam down on the map. "You find him?" Phoebe asks. "Yeah," Chris says, eyes widening in surprise. "He's here!" "Where here?" Phoebe panics. They remember Raige and scramble towards the stairs.
Prue Memorial. Phoebe and Big Gay Chris barge through the door to find Raige on the receiving end of a backrub from Slampiece Wonder Bread. "What are you doing?" Phoebe shrieks as Chris blurts, "You?" in Wonder Bread's direction. "Uh," Raige replies lamely. "Just napping." Phoebe spins around and flounces off down the hall in wordless horror as Chris stares, slack-jawed, at his skanky aunt. Raige and Slampiece Wonder Bread shrug their way into the commercial break.
Foyer. "How could you do such a thing?" Phoebe yowls, barreling down the stairs with Raige hot on her heels. "Like you've never conjured stuff before," Raige retorts as they reach the main floor, followed by the boys. "Never for myself," Phoebe claims as Chris sidles over to join her in revulsion, "and never a sex toy!" "I am not a sex toy," Wonder Bread asserts in a tone so mild, so matter-of-fact, and in such perfect counterbalance to the ladies' shrill screeching throughout this scene that I start snickering. Yeah. Eduardo would never have been able to deliver on that one. The ladies bicker until Chris cuts through it all with, "Shouldn't we be focusing on the bigger issue here?" With that, he jabs an accusatory finger at Wonder Bread, like, Chris. You slut. How in hell would you know how big Wonder Bread is? Unless, of course, you're aware that Raige is a size queen. We'll just run with that one, okay? For my sanity. Anyway, in the argument that follows, we learn that Raige has been conjuring Wonder Bread on a regular basis for the last three weeks. Phoebe's still outraged, so Raige reminds her sister that she herself repeatedly urged Raige to take a break. "I meant take a day off!" Phoebe bellows. "Go to the spa! Get a pedicure! Get a massage!" "I massage her," Wonder Bread asserts, again in that fabulous tone of voice, so now I'm giggling. God love him. Meanwhile, Phoebe's making horking noises. Chris rather amusingly instructs her to breathe before the Manor Morons bang their heads together and stumble across the realization that Raige must have conjured bad-boy Vincent at the same time she conjured good-boy Wonder Bread. "Talk about your personal gain consequences," Chris condescends. "'Personal gain'!" Raige mocks all mealy-mouthed, before adding that she's sick to death of that phrase. Wonder Bread joins the conversation at this point to remind her that the prohibition exists for a reason. "Whose side are you on?" she pouts. "I know what you know," he reminds her, "and they're right." "Did you conjure him or clone him?" Phoebe goofs. Chris peevishly wonders why they can't "unconjure" Wonder Bread so he and his evil twin will just disappear. Raige reluctantly admits that it's a twenty-four hour spell. "Let's just hope we find [Vincent] before he finds us," Phoebe grimaces as the doorbell rings. "Maybe that's another one of your suitors that you conjured for your own personal gain and pleasure," Phoebe snarks, rubbing it in before she turns to answer. It's actually Detective Doormat, who's arrived with two uniforms who enter the house through the back door to rearrest Chris. The shrieking goes ultrasonic as Big Gay Chris is dragged from the Manor in shackles. Phoebe stops with the wailing long enough to wonder what the hell the Doormat's problem is. Long story short, the Doormat ices that after the ridiculous events of last week, he's no longer covering for them. As he exits, Phoebe rolls her eyes heavenwards and sighs, "Could this day get any worse?" The screen flares, and we…
…head back to Vincent's lair. Expository blathering from Vincent and Elisa regarding his dastardly plan, which seems to involve sitting around until Raige decides to orb down there. How…cunning. Scene.
Not!warts. Piper and the Dolt play the staring-at-each-other-and-giggling-shyly game for a very long time until they segue into a discussion about their sons, followed by a discussion about their future together. Piper reluctantly admits that she can't "go there" because the basic situation's the same. The Dolt's still an ever-useless Elder, and as long as he remains one, they can't be together. Yawn. Raige orbs in to request a moment alone with the Dolt. Piper orders them to spill it, as she's "pregnant, not stupid," and can tell something's going on. The Dolt admits that they didn't want to alarm her, but there's "a demon consolidating powers using Charmed knowledge." Raige then cops to the fact that she accidentally conjured said demon when she conjured Mr. Right. Piper's all, "Wait. Back it up. Mr. Right as in my Mr. Right?" "No," Raige pffts, "because that would be gross. My Mr. Right." "[Raige]," the Dolt chides. "There are rules." "Oh, please," she snorts. Heh. Raige then drops the whole double Chris-in-jail/Darryl-not-helping bomb. Piper, her head practically popping off, demands to be taken home immediately. The Dolt insists she remain at Not!warts to "save one son" while he himself heads back to "save the other one." Piper rolls her eyes, tosses her fabulous mane of glossy dark hair around, and sighs.
Nonexistent Attic. Phoebe consults the Book while mixing a potion. Slampiece Wonder Bread wanders in from the stairs for a chat. "Shouldn't you be peeling [Raige] a grape or something?" Phoebe snipes. "She doesn't like grapes," Wonder Bread instantly replies in That Tone That Makes Me Giggle, before admitting she has yet to return from Not!warts. As he's got some time to kill, he offers to help Phoebe with the potion. Phoebe snots something dismissive and impolite, like, shrew. The current situation is not his fault and you know it. Wonder Bread, ever helpful and hoping to bridge the rift between the bickering siblings, lets loose with a little speech in which he reminds Phoebe that Raige "doesn't think it's fair for magic to take away so much without ever giving anything back." He adds, "She was going crazy [but] she didn't want to complain -- she didn't want you to have to feel guilty for having lost your powers. Don't stay mad at her too long, okay? It hurts her, Phoebe. She looks up to you a lot more than you know." Phoebe looks suitably chastened. Yeah. Anyone want to bet on how long that's going to last? Wonder Bread, having thus unburdened himself -- and, by extension, Raige -- slides a sewing needle from a nearby pincushion and jabs it into his finger to add a little of his blood to Phoebe's Vincent vanquish. It is, he reminds her, likely the most important ingredient. When Phoebe wonders why jabbing himself with a needle doesn't seem to hurt him, Wonder Bread reveals he's incapable of feeling anything but what Raige feels. And that's just sad and creepy as all hell, but I already ranted about it four months ago, so I'll be moving this along. Raige and the Dolt orb in, with Raige immediately babbling her maxima mea culpas for getting them all into this mess in the first place. "Stop," Phoebe tells her gently. "You apologized already." Raige is more than a bit puzzled by this, but is far more pleased to have been let off the hook. Phoebe announces the vanquish is ready, so the Dolt naturally wonders which demon Vincent intends to attack . "Kimoto Demon," Raige and Wonder Bread answer in unison. The Dolt wiggles his eyebrows around as Raige smiles, "I like the way you think." "Back at ya," Wonder Bread replies in kind. "Ew," Phoebe grimaces, and that joke was a hell of a lot funnier the first time they did it.
Cut to a sunlit alleyway, where the ashy remains of the never-seen Kimoto Demon smoke on the asphalt. Raige and the Dolt orb in with Phoebe to stare at the cinders and glum that they're too late. "Actually," Vincent perks, rounding the corner at the alley's far end, "you're right on time. So glad you could make it." Raige is instantly mesmerized by his presence and stands frozen in place, the vanquish clutched in her hand. The Dolt urges her to throw the potion. "You wouldn't hurt me, would you?" Vincent asks, anticipating the answer, which arrives when Raige's body flares white. Phoebe snatches at the vial and hurls it towards Vincent's feet. Nothing happens because, as Vincent explains, "[Raige] didn't conjure [him] to go away until it's time." He takes a couple of steps towards the Manor Morons before orbing out to reappear directly behind Raige. "You can't resist me, remember?" he coos in her ear. Raige wordlessly joins him in an Hell-bound orb cloud as Phoebe and the Dolt gape at each other.
Vincent's Lair. The demon of the cavern deposits them in a replica of Raige's boudoir and announces that she's "home." Raige glances around approvingly until the entire set gets swallowed up in the commercial break.
Manor. Phoebe hags through the upper hall, berating Slampiece Wonder Bread for assuring her the potion would work with his blood. "You said you knew him!" she bitches, heading for the stairs to the non-existent attic. "I know [Raige]," he corrects. "There's a difference." "What -- testicles?" Phoebe spits. "I thought you guys were three peas in a pod." Wonder Bread's forced to remind Phoebe that that's an impossibility, as Raige is real while her conjured slampieces are not. The Dolt backs him up, noting that Raige "didn't make [the guys] vulnerable because she didn't want them to go away" before the appointed time. Phoebe phrets that Vincent will hurt her, but Wonder Bread assures her that that won't happen, as Vincent loves Raige as much as Wonder Bread does. Phoebe then wonders why Raige hasn't escaped of her own volition. Wonder Bread surmises that it's likely because Vincent's appealing to Raige's innermost desires, which are "to be free, to be independent, and to be able to use her magic without consequences." As Phoebe and the Dolt mope, Wonder Bread brainstorms an appropriate course of action. If they figure out a way to make Vincent real, the bond between Raige and her conjured slampieces will break, leaving Vincent vulnerable to a vanquishing potion. "This is not Pinocchio!" Phoebe wails. "You can't just make things real." Wonder Bread argues that it's their best course of action, and the one Raige herself would most likely choose were she not under the influence at the moment. "I know you can do it, Phoebe," he adds. "Thanks, [Raige]," Phoebe snorts, but you can tell she's agreed to the plan. The Dolt orbs out to fetch Big Gay Chris from jail as Phoebe orders Wonder Bread nonexistent-atticwards to work on making him real, or whatever.
Vincent's Lair, and my God, this episode is just endlessly chatty. Long story short, Vincent promises Raige a life of "unchallenged" magic wherein "demons will bow at [her] feet." He also reveals that he chose his name because it's the same as that of Raige's "first love -- a boy who promised [her] the world." "And now you've got it," he smiles. Raige worries about her sisters' reaction to all of this, but Vincent quickly convinces her to off them, or something. Raige, in his thrall, agrees.
Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World. The Dolt barges in to confront the Doormat, and Dorian Gregory seems to be as bored with this scene as I am. Either that, or he's stoned off his fucking gourd. The Doormat refuses any further assistance, citing the influence of "those beings who erase memories," and now I'm even more convinced that Harvey Cleaner's evil. I swear to God, if they just drop all that after tonight's episode, someone's going to die. Again, it'll probably be me, but still. Death, people! In an angry outburst, the Dolt seethes that "sooner or later, they'll figure out who [Chris] is, and then what?" The Doormat's all, "Not my problem, dude. See ya!" The Dolt flusters for a moment, then gets a crafty look in his eye as the scene cross-fades to the county jail, where Miserable Gay Chris huddles on his bunk in the gloom. The Dolt orbs in all surreptitious-like and announces his intent to break his son out of jail. "Took you long enough," Chris pisses before wondering if Darryl's agreed to cover for them. The Dolt's all, "Screw Darryl!" and Chris is all, "What about the exposure risk?" and the Dolt's all, "Screw the exposure risk!" and Chris is all, "Thanks, Dad," and then they orb out. Aw. Not. Scene.
Nonexistent Attic. The potion pot explodes as Phoebe tosses in a final ingredient, and Slampiece Wonder Bread asks if it's done. Phoebe blithers something tiresome involving her newfound lack of self-confidence as she siphons a bit of the potion from the pot with a turkey baster to load it into a vial. Wonder Bread gallantly volunteers to act as a guinea pig for the mix, arguing that if it works on him, they'll know it'll work on Vincent. Phoebe hesitates, but eventually drops the vial at Wonder Bread's feet. A puff of smoke erupts, followed by a shimmering wash of whitish mojo that travels up Wonder Bread's body as he gasps in shock. "How do you feel?" Phoebe asks. "Alive," he gapes before darting over to the table to retrieve a dagger from the various implements of magical destruction there assembled. He then proceeds to slice open the palm of his hand, like, you moron. If you wanted to see if you could feel pain, all you had to do was, like, pinch your arm. Nimrod. Wonder Bread quickly gets over his physical agony, though, because he's overjoyed at being real. "I hope you didn't just trick me into doing that," Phoebe side-eyes, suddenly worried. "No," Wonder Bread assures her, "but I did help you realize you're not as powerless as you thought." Phoebe hmmms at that for a bit until Big Gay Chris orbs into the nonexistent room with his worthless deadbeat of a father. "Chris!" she exclaims. "You're out!" Heh. Ah-heh-heh-heh. "Thank God," Chris replies. Snerk. Hee. So much for LesBianca. The Dolt confirms that the latest potion worked, then reveals that Big Gay Chris came up with a plan for rescuing Raige during his time in the stir. Said plan involves Phoebe infiltrating Vincent's lair. Once she's established herself, the boys will deliver the various relevant potions. Phoebe, waiting for the other shoe to drop, prompts, "And how, exactly, am I going to sneak in?" The boys grin and snicker at each other.
Cut to Phoebe in a crappy blonde wig and a black pleather catsuit of her very own as she joins the other Demonatrices for a conference with the boss. Since they flogged this particular costume change relentlessly in the previews, I have no idea whether or not that cut was funny. I'm leaning towards "Not," though. Go figure. Vincent enters, thanks Elisa for her punctuality, and reminds her that Raige cannot be involved in whatever it is they're about to do to her sisters. "I understand," Elisa nods firmly as Raige orbs in with the absolutely rotund Piper. Holly Marie Combs's baby must have weighed eighteen pounds when she finally gave birth it a couple of weeks ago. Piper takes one look at her surroundings and rather calmly wigs. "What are we doing here?" she asks, nervously glancing around at the cavern walls and the scantily clad sluts they contain. "You know how I've always felt tied down?" Raige replies, sauntering over to Vincent's side. "Well, I thought you'd like to know how that feels." She summons a length of rope with her orbing telekinesis that quickly binds Piper's hands behind her back. "What the hell are you doing?" Piper squeals. Raige simply smiles and allows herself to be led into her mock bedroom by Vincent, who conjures a door once they're inside. Piper quietly freaks straight into the final commercial break.
Vincent's Lair. Elisa snaps open her vicious-looking throwing star and smirks as Piper bellows fruitlessly for the Dolt and Big Gay Chris. Suddenly, another throwing star slams into Elisa's back, and she vanishes in a veil of fire. "Whoops!" goofs the Feebs. "Missed!" She slings another star, vanquishing a nearby demonette, as Piper toddles for cover behind an outcropping of rock. Two of the Demonatrices hurl stars in Phoebe's direction, but she blocks herself with yet another Flearing Floozy, who howls and wails and blazes her merry way to Hell. In addition to being annoyingly chatty, this episode also has a rather high female body count. Makes you think. In any event, Phoebe gets off a roundhouse kick that takes down the two remaining demonettes before she races to Piper's side to free her of her bonds. Piper gets an eyeful of Phoebe's ludicrous get-up and snickers, "Are you here to save me, or kill me?" Phoebe exasperates for a moment before spinning Piper around to remove the rope encircling her sister's wrists. "Is there a plan involved in any of this?" Piper wonders. "There was," Phoebe sighs, "until Chris and [the Dolt] didn't respond to your call." "Great," Piper eye-rolls as the shot cuts to the nonexistent attic, where the Dolt tries and fails to sense the gals on that stupid supernatural radar of his. Big Gay Chris immediately volunteers to head "down there" with the potion, but the Dolt, concerned for his son's safety, insists he remain in the Manor. "Phoebe'll figure it out," he assures Chris. "She always finds a way." Meanwhile, back in the lair, Piper wants to deploy the Hands Of Discontent, an idea Phoebe nixes because it risks exposing Fetal Gay Chris to physical harm. Phoebe proposes instead that she herself "go after the two [Demonatrices] on the right." Piper's all, "And then what?" "Then," Phoebe winces, knowing how stupid she sounds, "I'll go after the two on the left." She jiggles out from her hiding place as the four remaining demonettes stalk on over in her direction. Two hurl stars at the Fun Bags. Piper tosses out a quick freeze, then deploys the Hands, each of which demolishes a floozy. Phoebe plucks the two stars out of the air and whips them back into the last two demonettes, who quickly join all of their sisters down in Hell.
After a pause, Piper ambles over to Phoebe with, "Heeey, not bad for a chick who can't levitate." "We're not done yet," Phoebe reminds her. Piper worries her pretty little head over the fact that they lack the necessary potions. "We don't need them," Phoebe rather cryptically asserts before turning to lead Piper towards Raige's faux boudoir. The gals barge in to find Raige and Vincent engaged in one of the most shockingly tepid liplocks I've ever seen on this show. Where are the tongues? And the spit? And the earsplitting lip mikes? I'm so confused. Vincent pulls away from Raige to smirk, "Phoebe. I underestimated you." "Really?" Phoebe snorts. "Well, I guess that means she did too," she continues, indicating the still-whammied Raige, who squints and quizzically tilts her head to one side. Phoebe swings her wig around to whisper an urgent "Blow him up!" at Piper. "You can't," Vincent gloats. "I'm not real, remember?" Phoebe's betting on the fact that Vincent became real the same moment his doppelganger did up in the attic. Vincent now looks somewhat frightened. Piper, by contrast, looks extremely skeptical, but she deploys the Hands nonetheless. Vincent vanishes in a quick explosion that leaves behind nothing more than a fast-dissipating black cloud and a rapidly de-whammied Raige. Piper crosses her arms and glares all, "You are so going to suffer for what you just put me through. Slut." Raige, clueless, wrinkles her nose in Phoebe's direction and icks, "What are you wearing?" Phoebe just purses her lips and wags her wig around.
Not!warts. Piper carries on with her interrupted research as the dead-eyed and mulleted Psycho does something impossibly wicked on the floor. In orbs the Dolt, who's greeted with a smile from the ex-wife and a "Deh-deh" from the sociopath of a son. I think he was trying to say, "Dead! Dead!" as in, "You will be dead once I am old enough to slaughter your worthless and massive ass! Do you hear me? Dead! Dead!" More chatter, the only important part of which is the Dolt's revelation that he used some of his magical pixie dust to wipe the car salesman's memory of the robbery so the guy would drop the charges against Big Gay Chris. Piper makes to chide him for using the dangerous dust, but then smiles and allows, "You're a good father." The Dolt grins and replies, "I hope you say that again in 23 years. I wonder where we'll be then." Piper glances down in her lap for a long moment, avoiding his eyes, before turning back to evaluate his expression. I wonder if she's considering telling him what we all know of her truncated future. After a pause, she simply responds, "Me, too." The awkward, shy half-smile the Dolt had been sporting vanishes and the two stare at each other for a bit before breaking their gaze. Piper once again examines her fingernails.
Manor. Raige lounges in the parlor in front of the flickering fireplace, lost in thought until Phoebe enters to greet her with an affectionate "Hey, sweetie." Much more chatter, during which we learn both that Phoebe made her deadline without relying upon her still-revoked powers and that she’s no longer in such a hurry to get them back. Slampiece Wonder Bread wanders in, so Phoebe rises to give the two a little alone time together. And…still more chatter. Seems the Dolt's arranged to have Slampiece Wonder Bread enter the big, bad world as a real, live boy. I wondered what he'd do for a living for all of five seconds before I remembered that I really don't give a shit. And that's pretty much it, really. Raige offers him a kiss on the cheek, they tell each other to take care, and the screen fades to black. That's a little abrupt. And more than a little unsatisfying. Oh, well. We must remember: This show is ass.
week, the Glamorous Ladies get caught up in a demonic reality show by the name of Witch Wars. If Omarosa and Hatch show up in a bit of May Sweeps stunt-casting, I'll quit. Or, you know, I'll die. Death, people! Death!