Previously on Charmed, they did some stuff in the season premiere, and they also did some more stuff in last week's episode, but we're apparently meant to forget everything about that episode in between. You know, the hateful one with the bareback nag. And the horse. Of particular importance in this sequence? That bit where Pepper Anderson and Detective Doormat storm up the stairs and barge into the Bridal Boudoir, whereupon the Dolt immediately flings Pepper into a wall. Immediately. Remember that. He immediately flung Pepper into a wall.
Currently on Charrrmed! -- ooops! Spoiler! Not -- the camera fades up on the nighttime facade of Halliwell Manor before heading inside to the nonexistent attic, wherein we find the Dolt looking pensive. Oh, shit. This one's all about the stupid Dolt and his Issues, isn't it? Crap. Piper enters from the upper stairwell and, long story short, urges the Dolt to invite one of his ever-useless brethren down for a social. The Dolt hems and haws and harrumphs and finally admits he's been seeing things. Large, floating, shimmery, Head-like things. That speak to him in creepy voices and tell him to spend nine dollars and fifty cents of his wife's hard-earned money on Sky Captain And The World Of Tomorrow. God, Gwyneth Paltrow sucks. Piper, pillar of strength and sanity that she is, instructs the Dolt to ignore the spooky manifestations and get cracking on that invitation thing. Because when something that is clearly supernatural threatens you on this show, it's always best to ignore it. Piper turns to leave, and as she does so, the look of calm determination drops from her face to be replaced by one of anxiety-laden doubt tinged with a little bit of fear. Heh. She thinks he's a fucking loon and doesn't want him anywhere near her kids. Hee. The Dolt, naturally, looks conflicted. Or, you know, constipated. Your pick.
Piper barely makes it down the flight of stairs to the second floor before she staggers a bit and gazes up to plead, "Please let him get through this." Who the hell is she talking to? God? God doesn't exist on this show, Piper. Whatever!
Up in the nonexistent attic, meanwhile, the same ever-useless Elder who encouraged the Dolt to sacrifice the Psycho for the greater good orbs in to greet everyone's least favorite Head-spotting nutjob. Oh, this should help matters. In the sense that it won't help matters at all, ever. The two mentally challenged gentlemen exchange uneasy pleasantries before the Dolt too-casually wonders if the ever-useless Elders have a bead on whomever offed Stupid Uncle Phil. Of course, they don't, but Elder Infanticide here vows that they will in due time. "We have to," he adds, likely referring to the unprecedented threat we're all supposed to be worried about but that no one saw fit to include in the "previously" segment. Because this show's smart like that. Remind us of Pepper's face-plant into the wall, and remind us of Raige's stupid new job at Not!warts, and by all means remind us of Slampiece Sparklies's misery-inducing existence on this planet because we so totally care about that douchebag, but the apparent overall story arc for the season? Don't bother with that one. After all, how important could that be? In any event, the Dolt finally gets to the point and admits to Elder Infanticide that, while he understands he can't be allowed back up to Whitelighterland until this Stupid Uncle Phil thing is settled, he'd still like to help out in some way. Elder Infanticide immediately gives the Dolt the skinny on a recent disturbing development. Two Whitelighters have lost track of their witchy charges over the last three nights. The missing gals are "practitioners" only and "not powerful," but their disappearances are the cause of some concern Up There. The Dolt eagerly accepts the assignment on behalf of the Manor Morons, and Elder Infanticide orbs on out of there.
"He LIES, [Dolt]!" Oh, crap. Heady Bizarre immediately squiggles into the nonexistent attic upon Elder Infanticide's exit, and I really need to come up with a nickname I haven't already wasted on squirrelly runts from Not!warts, but all the good gigantic head jokes were used up years ago in the Dawson's Creek reca...hey! So, James Van Der Beek, looking hella rough after a year and a half on the unemployment line -- like, lick it up, dicksmack. Lick. It. Up! -- swoops past the agitated Dolt before reeling around for another pass with "You can't trust him!" As the Beek flies through the air towards the windows, he adds, "You can't trust yourself!" before squiggling out again. The Dolt, considerably freaked by the unexpected appearance of the former teen idol, blunders about the nonexistent room for a bit until we cut to...
...a shot of one of the city's many hills, with the Bay Bridge looming far in the background. Actually, they've used this establishing shot over and over and over again, and if someone would be kind enough to provide me with the name of the street, I'd be eternally grateful. Anyway, once we've established that we are indeed still in San Francisco, the camera cuts to an overhead of a slim brunette exiting what I'm guessing is her little storefront and locking the door behind her. Of course, Slim's not exiting onto the brightly lit and well populated sidewalk, but rather into the dank, forbidding alleyway at the back of the shop, because stupidity is endemic on this program. Slim pockets her keys and begins the trek to, um, her razor scooter, or something, when she suddenly hears a disembodied someone whistling a vaguely familiar and jaunty tune. Well, it would be jaunty were we not echoing through a dank, forbidding alleyway, which almost always has the effect of making any whistled snatch of music sound psychotic and stalkerish. Slim freezes and warily pivots to scan the alleyway behind her. A gust of dry-ice "fog" billows around the far corner and rolls towards her as the disembodied whistling continues. The shot cuts to reveal a matching wave of dry-ice "fog" advancing upon Slim from the opposite direction. Slim tightens her ankle-length knit wrap around her body and makes to push herself out of the frame, but freezes again when the whistling is replaced by the sound of someone taking deliberate, heavy steps through the mist. "Hello?" she asks, for it is incumbent upon every damsel in distress to greet her murderer politely before the screaming begins. Seriously, couldn't they every once in a while bellow, "WHO THE FUCK IS FOLLOWING ME? You wanna piece of this, huh? HUH?! Well, come and TRY to fucking get it, FUCKKNOB. 'Cause I will GUT YOU like a FISH!" It does seem a little more appropriate to the situation, don't you think? No matter. The whistling kicks back in by way of response, so Slim quickens her pace to flee. The fog, which had been swirling about at knee level, rears up to fill the alleyway. The sound of shattering glass tinkles in the near distance. Slim gasps a bit and darts through encroaching mist to vanish as her tuneful, as-yet-unseen, broken-bottle-wielding murderer paces slowly behind her.
Somewhere else, but presumably somewhere nearby, Slim slams into a tiny little apartment and locks the door behind her. She deserves to die for that hideous blouse alone. Seriously. It looks like someone (Eilish) scarfed down a rack of vintage Pucci and vomited the resulting mess all over Slim's torso. Slim heaves a sigh of relief now that she's safe, but ooops! She'd left the window open. Dang! Don't you hate when that happens? You're Jamie Lee Curtis, and you're running from something in the fog, and you run and you run and you finally get to your house and safety and slam and lock the door behind you, only to realize you've stupidly left every fricking window in the house open, so the fog creeps in anyway and DEATH! Speaking of death, sorry about your mother's, Lady Haden-Guest. No, seriously. I loved her in The Manchurian Candidate. Anyway, Slim scurries over to shut the window, and yes, the mysterious whistler pops into the frame at that very moment to grab her arm and spin her around into a chokehold. Only he comes at her from behind instead of leaping in through the window along with the mist, because this show is ass, and I want to die. "Anyone tell you not to walk alone at night, witch?" he hisses into her ear, and he's a pirate. No, really. He's got the do-rag and the earrings and the scurvy-ridden teeth and everything. Arrr! He also recently appeared as Richard Dawson in the critically acclaimed Auto Focus, so it's nice to know his career's been going so well lately. The pirate slings Slim over his shoulder in a fireman's carry as Slim cries for the help that of course will never arrive. The scurvy cur then leaps onto the windowsill and vaporizes into the fog as Slim's screams echo into the night. Because Raige will soon require a clue -- and by that I mean an actual, physical clue and not, you know, the brain she's been missing for a good two years, though she's sorely in need of that later on as well -- the pirate manages to drop a skull-emblazoned doubloon as he goes. The coin spins madly on the hardwood floor for a bit before settling into the opening credits.
Finally! An opening travelogue! I don't know about you, but the lack of an opening travelogue for three straight episodes was beginning to unnerve me. Because I fear change. The travelogue is brief, ovary-free, and anviliciously reliant upon shots of the early morning mist rolling across the city from the ocean, but it is oh, so welcome at Casa Demian. Over on Prescott Street, the kettle whistles -- get it? -- up in the kitchen as Piper futzes with a baby monitor at the center island and the Dolt groans in frustration at the table. As Piper prepares some tea, the Dolt agonizes over his failed attempts to scry for the two missing "practitioners." Piper settles into a chair to her ex-husband and instructs him to list the disappearances' "common denominators." "Besides the fact that they're witches," the Dolt replies, "the fog rolled in just before they disappeared." "Well, of course the fog rolled in," Piper deadpans playfully. "It's San Francisco." She begins flipping through the Book of Shadows as the Dolt smirks at her fondly. "What?" she asks, catching his eye. "Nothing," he shrugs. "It's just that I miss this." "Sleepless nights and endless exposition?" she prompts. "Not me." Aw. Not.
Raige, thank God, interrupts the tedious meta-commentary to shriek in from Not!warts on orb cloud and bay, "Do I look like a 'ma'am' to you?" Apparently, some Nit!wit bumped into her earlier that morning and apologized with "Excuse me, ma'am," which has never, ever happened to her before in her entire life, and bullshit. She's twenty-seven years old. Someone had to have addressed her in such a manner long before now. Whatever. The entire exchange exists simply to set up a not-so-funny one-liner later in the episode, so let's keep this moving. Long story short, Piper and the Dolt fill Raige in on the whole missing-persons situation, and Raige bounds out of the room to scry for the practitioners. Piper and the Dolt leap to their feet to follow her, with Piper protesting that scrying's already been tried and found wanting. The Dolt's of the opinion that the missing women have been gone too long for the crystal to work. Raige ponders all this for an instant before suggesting that they ask Detective Doormat if Missing Persons has received any additional reports since the evening. "Go ahead, ask him," Piper shrugs, directing Raige towards the front door. "He's outside." Raige puckers and powers over to fling open the door. She edges slowly to the front of the porch until she spots Detective Doormat's sedan parked on the opposite side of the street below. Raige gapes in wordless outrage for a moment before spinning on her heel and storming back inside. "They're watching us?" she demands of Piper as she slams the door behind her. "Staking us out," Piper corrects. "Apparently, [Pepper] wants us real bad." "Which means," the Dolt stresses, "that you can't very well go running around the city looking for missing witches." "Unless there's a distraction," Raige notes with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Phoebe still home?" What, you're going to have that skank strip down to her scanties and wiggle around in front of an unwilling audience until that audience claws their eyes out in anguish and disgust? That's not a distraction, Raige. That's a weekly occurrence.
Meanwhile, down at the wheel of the Doormat's car, Pepper rants into her phone at the FBI lab "back east," bitching out some poor functionary regarding the blood sample she forwarded for testing "three weeks ago." Apparently, the lab's misplaced the sample. Or the results. I'm not sure which, but then again, I don't really care, for reasons soon to be explained at length and with a great many four-letter words. Pepper grumbles in frustration, snaps shut her cell phone, and peeves, "I hate the Feds!" And that's totally not a cop-show cliché at all, because Pepper Anderson is the most original and super-wonderful police character any of us has seen on television ever, and if you dare to disagree then you are clearly just jealous. "So," the Doormat wonders, by way of making conversation, "where'd you get the blood sample?" You'd think the Doormat would have asked her that question at some point in the last three weeks, but you'd be horribly, wretchedly wrong, because the Doormat is an imbecile. Just like everyone else on this godforsaken show. "From Piper's bedroom," Pepper replies, "when I was curiously knocked out." No. No, you didn't get the goddamned blood sample from Piper's fucking bedroom when you were "curiously knocked out," you stupid fucking bint, because you were curiously fucking knocked out as soon as you entered the fucking room, and you know what? WE WERE ALL REMINDED OF THAT FACT AT THE TOP OF THE HOUR. Hey, Hacks Responsible For This Mess! Come over here. I want to let you in on a little secret: Whatever the purpose of the suddenly appearing previouslies on this show may be, I can assure you it is not to set up asinine fucking continuity errors in the episode present, you fucking morons. Jesus. Christ!
This show is going to kill me.
The Doormat blithers something unhelpful as Piper arrives at the driver's-side door, burdened with both a breakfast tray and a faux-cheerful demeanor. She banters briefly with Pepper before freezing her in favor of having a few crucial words with the Doormat. Meanwhile, Phoebe exaggeratedly tiptoes down the Manor's front steps to her car. I have to admit, because Phoebe has been such an unbelievable dipshit for such a long time, I initially failed to realize that this blatant, sunlit skulking of hers was all part of Raige's cunning plan to distract the detectives, and so found myself yelling, "WHY don't you -- oh, I don't know -- tiptoe out the back door, you stupid, HATEFUL woman? Oh, I know why! Because this show is unbelievable ass, and I want to drop dead RIGHT NOW!" Regrettably, I misread Phoebe's motivation entirely, and this conspicuous march down to the sidewalk along with her subsequent slow crawl past the Doormat's sedan in her hideous Mini Cooper were both intentional. I still want to drop dead right now, though. Anyway, long story short, Piper pumps the reluctant Doormat for information regarding recent vanishings, and learns that twenty-two-year-old "Brenda Castillo" never returned to her apartment in the Heights the evening. Her "roommate" filed the report, but until Brenda's been gone for twenty-four hours, the cops can't do anything about it. "We'll find her in twelve," Piper vows before thanking him. "You're welcome," he steams, "now, would you unfreeze her?" Piper flicks a wrist around, and Pepper kicks back in with the sniping and such from the point at which she'd been so thankfully interrupted. Phoebe picks this moment to sweep by in her car, and Pepper peels on out of her parking spot to chase after the Feebs, in the process slinging Piper's carefully prepared breakfast tray to the street. "It's all right!" Piper shouts at the back end of the sedan. "I'll clean this up!" And then, shockingly, she totally doesn't, choosing instead to whip out her cell and bark, "Okay, [Raige], you're on. Brenda Castillo, the Heights."
The Heights, you say? Not so much. Brenda actually wakes up to find herself shackled to the wall of some subterranean chamber, in the company of various skeletons, a bit of booty, and one really fugly plaster of Paris fountain. The scurvy cur from the pre-credits sequence darts into the frame to make with the threats and such, and I must admit, he's working a pretty damn good East London accent. "What do you want from me?" Brenda all but spits in his face. "We don't want nuffink," he replies. "'Owevah, our captain would like a word wiv you." With that, he yanks her to her feet as the shot cuts to take in the slumming Harve Presnell, avec parrot, as he rounds a chamber corner with a couple of swashbuckling underlings in tow. Poor Harve. It's a long way down from Fargo to Charmed, especially when you're travelling by way of Dawson's Creek. Someone clearly didn't plan his retirement properly. However, because he's obviously having such a good time overacting the hell out of the dreck they've given him to work with this evening, he'll be getting a free pass from me. It also helps that his given name fits in so nicely with tonight's theme. Brenda takes one look at Harrr!ve's tattered clothing, lank hair, and seamed, scarred face, and mutters, "Oh, my..." "...God?" Harrr!ve finishes for her, and Lord, but it pains me to transcribe this dialogue. "'Fraid not," he continues. "You'll have to settle for Captain Black Jack Cutting." Oy. Ooof. No, you have no idea. I'm burying my face in my hands in empathic shame for the guy as he Aye!s and Arrr!s and Avast!s his way through his shitty lines and his awful character name. Sweet Mother of God. ANY-way, Harrr!ve orders the Scurvy Cur to drag Brenda closer and is then forced to gift us all with the following: "Ah! The stench of witch! I'd recognize it anywhere." Ew. Douche, Brenda. It's called a douche. Oh, this is just dreadful. But like I said, reliable Harrr!ve is plugging the hell out of it, so he's okay by me. "What do you want?" Brenda repeats. "I want you to die," comes the predictable reply, "but not too fast." Harrr!ve retrieves a dagger from a swart associate and wiggles the thing in Brenda's face. "One of your kind cursed me with this a very long time ago," he exposits. "Of course, then I used it to cut her hearrrt out," Harrr!ve rasps. The pirates "Arrr!" at this, as is their wont. Harrr!ve deftly twiddles the blade around in his fingers and slices a shallow line across Brenda's exposed shoulder. Brenda winces before Harrr!ve orders Scurvy Cur to "take her away." Scurvy Cur spouts something about the Glamorous Ladies, but Harrr!ve threatens to toss him in irons for his insolence. "All good things come to those who wait," Harrr!ve growls. Scurvy Cur yanks Brenda out of the frame by her hair. Harrr!ve's parrot squawks. Okay, fine: Hee.
All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me and Sparklies and NOT CARING, DAMMIT! Though I did just realize something. The boyband fucktard is so lousy an actor, and Harrr!ve is so commanding and entertaining a presence by contrast, that the scene suddenly seems a whole hell of a lot better than it did when first I watched it, despite the godawful dialogue. We'll all be giving Harrr!ve his props for the rest of the evening, won't we? Meanwhile, back in this pointless subplot, Sparklies has conspired with Elise Rothman, Girl Editor to rig a "Win A Date With Phoebe" contest so that he has an excuse to invite Phoebe to dinner, and good Lord, this is dumb. Phoebe, unaware of the deception, agrees to meet Sparklies that evening at "Maxine's" and I'm still not caring and scene!
The Heights. Raige raps at the door to Brenda's apartment. The wary roommate eventually answers, and she sports lousy highlights and cooter pants. Two strikes against her already, and she hasn't even opened her mouth. Upon learning that Raige is not from the police, the roommate makes to shut the door in her face, but Raige at the last minute blurts, "Is Brenda a witch? Because if she is, I think I can help find her." The roommate, whose name we'll eventually learn is "Carly," invites Raige in to the tiny flat, and if the fact that two twentysomething women are forced to share this shoebox of an apartment in San Francisco isn't enough shocking realism for one night, just wait for what comes . "[Brenda] wouldn't just not come home," Carly explains, frustrated by the runaround the police have been giving her. "You guys seem pretty close," Raige notes. "Are you sisters? Roommates?" "Partners," comes the reply, and oh, my God. The Gays have finally arrived on Charmed. Of course, they're mall dykes barely out of their teens and thus clearly fantasy fodder for heterosexual males, and Carly here's a little too uncomfortable announcing the truth of her relationship when I'd expect someone in that city to be far more matter-of-fact about it in this day and age, and it gets even worse when Carly insists that the cops aren't taking her seriously because she's all Sapphic and everything and so the police are brushing the incident off as a mere "lover's quarrel" -- like that would ever happen in San Francisco IN 2004 -- but still. Six long seasons and three full episodes into this series' run, and we finally get some actual, honest-to-God dykes. Who would have guessed? Anywho, Raige asks for "something, anything to go off of" to assist in her search for Brenda. Carly quickly retrieves the pre-credits doubloon from her kitchen table and passes it to Raige with an explanation of where and when she found it. "What do you think it means?" Carly asks. Raige wrinkles her brow and concentrates on the thing for a very long time as the camera pulls in for a glamour shot of the trinket in question before the scene cuts back over to...
...the subterranean booty chamber. It's actually a cave, as we note when Raige orbs in adjacent to the entrance, through which wisps of dry-ice fog twist from outside. "Brenda!" Raige hisses, wandering through the vast space past piles of swag. Raige finds Brenda, still shackled, curled in a fetal position on a ledge otherwise populated by skeletons. "Go away," Brenda breathes, weakened no doubt by Harrr!ve's slash at her shoulder. "Hurry!" she pleads. Actually, Brenda, Raige should bend down, grab your wrist, and orb you the fuck out of there, pronto. Unfortunately, Raige is an idiot, and so she just stands there with mouth agape as Harrr!ve and his retinue materialize out of the "fog" at the chamber's mouth in mid-stride. Scurvy Cur and the other underlings draw their swords as Harrr!ve gets this wickedly goofy grin on his face. "Took you long enough, dearrrie," Harrr!ve grunts by way of introduction. "We've been waiting for you." Raige's eyes widen a bit as Harrr!ve's parrot squawks us into the commercial break.
Back from the break, Harrr!ve barks, "You wouldn't just orb out and leave an innocent stranded, would you, witch?" Well, no, Harrr!ve, she wouldn't, because she'd orb out with the fucking innocent. If she had a brain, which she doesn't, so whatever. "You look like you've been out to sea for quite some time," Raige sasses, still not orbing out of there with Brenda. "Three hundred years," Harrr!ve exposits, "in a place beyond time and space. Only when the mystical fog rolls in do we get a chance to come and play in fairrr porrrt cities like your own." "I would have chosen London," Raige airily replies, still not orbing the fuck out of there with poor Brenda, leading Harrr!ve to peeve that London contains neither the Charmed Ones nor the "treasure" the Charmed Ones can procure for him. At this juncture, Raige says something stupid, instead of orbing the fuck out of there with poor, gravely injured Brenda. "When the gathering storm arrives here," Harrr!ve sneers, "will you be making jokes then?" Raige snips that she doesn't "speak pirate" while still not orbing the fuck out of there with poor, gravely injured, terrified Brenda. "This is not pirate lore," Harrr!ve snorts. "This is something very real and very dangerous, and I don't intend to be stuck here when it arrives." Scurvy Cur flashes the cursed dagger in front of Raige's face. Still not orbing the fuck out of there with poor, gravely injured, terrified, badly dressed Brenda -- but making terrific use of her orbing telekinesis! -- Raige summons a sword from one of the other guys and guts Scurvy Cur with the thing. Well, actually, Rose McGowan slides the blade into the gap between Michael Rodgers's arm and his chest, and is really obvious about doing so, but whatever. Because this whole episode is a shameless rip-off of Pirates Of The Caribbean, Scurvy Cur does not immediately howl and wail and blaze his merry way down to Hell, for he cannot die. Harrr!ve whisks the tip of the dagger across Raige's collarbone to draw a thin line of blood because Raige has still not orbed the fuck out of there with poor, gravely injured, terrified, badly dressed, soon-to-be-dead Brenda. "That's gonna leave a mark," Harrr!ve eyebrows as Raige finally orbs the fuck out of there. Without poor, gravely injured, terrified, badly dressed, soon-to-be-dead Brenda, for you shall not suffer fantasy-fodder lipstick lesbians to live. On the WB.
Scurvy Cur howls something about letting Raige get away. Harrr!ve wheels on him with expository threats and such, and I have to tell you, none of this makes any goddamned sense the second time around. It was entertaining enough the first time through, but knowing what I know now, the plot holes are just gaping. F'rinstance, Harrr!ve asks Scurvy Cur about the latter's luck in procuring "the golden chalice." Scurvy Cur admits to his failure, but the thing's in a museum, as we shall soon learn, and these guys are, more or less, corporealized ghosts who travel in the fog, so it should be no problem for them to wisp their way into the building, off a few guards, break into the chalice's display case, and abscond with the thing to dissolve into the nighttime mists, but whatever. I can't spend all season getting bogged down in this bullshit. Harrr!ve growls his way through the end of this bit, and he's far too good for this material, but I'm not going to be paying much attention to the rest of his scenes because, come on. He's a guest actor we'll never see again, and his plotline sucks. Poor Harrr!ve.
Manor. Raige reclines on a daybed in the nonexistent attic as the Dolt applies the tingly touch to the scrape on her neck. The wound itself vanishes, but its aftereffects will soon become clear. Regardless, Raige immediately leaps to her feet to join Piper at the Book for a little abuse. "Strangely," Piper notes, "there is nothing in here about pirates." The Dolt's also clueless, as "they were a little before [his] time." Raige, squinting, riffles through the pages of the Book anyway, just so Piper can smirk, "Need glasses, there, 'ma'am'?" Raige claims she's just "woozy," and announces she'll return to Not!warts for further research in the school's ancient library as pirates "are clearly not of our time." "Pirates?" Phoebe randily repeats as she horns herself into the nonexistent room from the hall. "Like, hot Johnny Depp pirates?" Piper's all "not so much," and, after trading a few barbs with Raige, promises to catch Phoebe up on the whole situation on the way to Not!warts. For some stupid reason, the Dolt's to remain at the Manor to look after the kids, despite the fact that it was he who begged the ever-useless Elders for this assignment in the first place. Phoebe, suddenly remembering that pirates aren't particularly magical, begs off on the trip to Not!warts in favor of returning to...
...All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me in order to justify Nick Lachey's continuing existence on this show. Or something like that. Long story short, she asks the paper's film critic to tell her everything he knows about pirate movies, but the critic's as stupid as everyone else on this show, so he recommends Mutiny On The Bounty. Slampiece Sparklies jumps in to correct the stupid critic's error with one of his own by calling Mutiny On The Bounty a "swashbuckler," like, no, retard, but whatever, because I already hate him so much that it just doesn't matter anymore. Sparklies reveals that he knows all about pirate movies thanks to his dad, or something, and defines "The Pirate's Oath," which I mention only because it becomes important later. Basically, if the captain swears to something and reneges on that promise, the crew has every right to mutiny. And that's about it. Sparklies leads Phoebe away to chat some more about the genre as the camera cuts over to...
...Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World. Pepper's furious, as their captain apparently believes she has better things to do with her time than chase after the Manor Morons. He's just announced he's "taking them off the case," and she's throwing a royal fit about it in the Doormat's general direction. The Doormat attempts to convince her that "the Halliwells are really, really good people," but Pepper just slaps her hand down on a file that's about a foot thick and snorts, "Six years of unsolved crimes -- of all types -- all mysteriously connected to them." "I don't care what you say," she concludes, settling back into her chair and obstinately crossing her arms. "That's not 'good people.'" After a beat during which Dorian Gregory bites his lower lip and tries to look sad, Pepper snatches up the phone and plugs in a series of numbers. She's dialing the FBI lab again in the hope those Feds she so disdains can provide her with the physical evidence she needs to continue her investigation. A well-manicured set of fingers enters the frame to punch the hook switch as the camera pans up a blue-jacketed arm to arrive on Kerr "I Hate Kissing Guys, Even Though I Am Paid $50,000 An Episode To Do So" Smith's pouty little mug. "You want the Feds?" he asks rhetorically. "You got 'em." Jesus Christ, Kerr Smith, Who Is Not Gay, hasn't aged a frigging day. In fact, I think he's regressed. Compared to the Doormat and Pepper here, he looks like he's fifteen years old. We'll get back to that later though, for after Kerr Smith, Who Is Not Gay, flashes his badge, we're off to...
...Not!warts, where Raige and her failing eyesight peer futilely at various potion bottles as Piper arrives with a bit of information on Harrr!ve. "I think I found something!" Piper calls from halfway across the room. "Haaahnh?" Raige grunts, for she's losing her hearing as well. Oy. Piper approaches with a convenient volume opened to an entry for the pirate in question, from which she notes, "He tricked a witch into falling for him in the eighteenth century so she could give him immortality." Piper goes on to relate that Harrr!ve "cut her heart out with the same athame she used to curse him." Raige, losing what's left of her scattered mind along with her sight and her hearing, has difficulty following the conversation, but she attributes this to concern for poor, gravely injured, terrified, badly dressed, soon-to-be-dead Brenda, whom, you'll recall, Raige left with the pirates instead of ORBING HER THE FUCK OUT OF THE CAVE. Whatever! Raige mumbles something about "the gathering storm" before turning her rapidly dwindling attention back to the potions she's mixing. Phoebe jiggles in at this moment with a cheery "Yo-ho, hello!" "Did you just call me a ho?" Piper eyebrows. Okay, so I added a little emphasis to the line that was not present in Holly Marie Combs's reading of same. Sue me. "How'd you get here?" Piper continues. "A pirate never betrays his secrets," Phoebe stupidly replies. Piper shoots Phoebe A Look, when Piper should be shooting Phoebe with her Hands Of Discontent. "[The Dolt] orbed me," Phoebe finally admits, dropping the silly pretense before encouraging Piper to ask her anything at all about "buccaneers." Because Phoebe's an expert on the topic now that she's talked to Nick Lachey about it. Stupid show.
In any event, the two banter pointlessly about Phoebe's "date" that evening until Raige clumsily drops a couple of bottles to the marble floor, where they shatter like bombs. Piper and Phoebe race to their addled half-sister's side to discover that Raige now also has Parkinson's Disease on top of everything else. No, seriously. She's quaking like Janet Reno on some prime Coral Gables trailer-park crystal meth. "Maybe that athame did more damage than we thought," Piper posits. You think? I mean, you just read about the fucking thing in that fucking book you were fucking holding, so yeah, maybe it did do more damage than you initially thought, seeing as how it was CURSED and all. Raige distractedly heads to a nearby sofa to rest for a bit as her worried siblings look on.
Trudeau Memorial. Pepper Anderson confirms via the phone that Kerr "I Am NOT Gay" Smith really is "Agent Brody" of "Homeland Security," and God. I don't have the strength. Homeland Security? Investigating the supernatural? Christ on a stick. "What division?" the Doormat demands. "The classified one," Kerr Smith, Who Is Not Gay, snots. And it just gets worse. That completely implausible blood sample? Becomes outright impossible. You see, it has "a triple helix," and the "plasma, platelets, [and] Rh factors" are "all incredible." Okay, so whose fucking blood is it? It can't be from any of the Manor Morons, because if witches have triple helixes with fucked-up plasma and platelets and such, they wouldn't be able to reproduce with mortals. And it can't be demonic, for the exact same reason. And it can't be Big Gay Chris's, partly because he vanished from the Bridal Boudoir three months ago according to this show's timeline, but mainly because the idiots responsible for this mess want us to forget he ever existed. AND on top of it all, Pepper could not have collected a sample in the first place, for reasons mentioned earlier. So this plot point? Sucks. ASS. Whatever. Filler episode! That's what this is, right? Filler? I hate this show. "Someone messed up," Kerr Smith, Who Is Not Gay, asserts. "You were not supposed to find that blood." Pepper is shocked and appalled. And clueless. Kerr Smith, Who Is Not Gay, prompts the Doormat to explain the non-human origins of the sample to his partner. The Doormat plays dumb. Kerr Smith, Who Is Not Gay, whatevers that he's not after the Doormat, and crosses to exposit regarding tonight's A-plot that the missing women the police "are ignoring" follow "a pattern that stretches back decades." "Barbados, Panama, Newfoundland, New Orleans," he enumerates, "and now here." Kerr Smith, Who Is Not Gay, then blows Pepper's mind by dropping the witch bomb. She wonders if this means the Glamorous Ladies aren't human. Kerr Smith, Who Is Not Gay, assures her they are, and that the sample came from something else. But that's not important right now. What is important is that Kerr Smith, Who Is Not Gay, has been attempting to prove his theories "for years now," and hopes to catch the Ps in the act. Pepper wonders how he intends to do that. "Got any golden chalices lying around?" the fifteen-year-old Homeland Security agent (Who Is Not Gay) asks.
There's a gorgeous time-lapse shot of fog racing past the Golden Gate Bridge before we cut back into La Cueva Del Booty. Phoebe and Piper pick their way through the chamber, with Phoebe toting a rather conspicuous potion vial. "Maybe [Raige] scared them away," Piper offers. "Pirates don't run from fights," Phoebe sniffs. "They lure you into them." The gals eventually stumble across poor, gravely injured, terrified, badly dressed, soon-to-be-dead Brenda, who's aged about sixty years since last we saw her. No, I'm not kidding with that. They hired eightysomething former burlesque performer Gloria LeRoy, slung her into a pair of handcuffs and a larger version of that hideous top Young Brenda was wearing, and stuck her on the shelf for this scene. Poor, gravely injured, terrified, badly dressed, soon-to-be-dead, and rilly rilly old Brenda hangs on long enough to reveal that Harrr!ve's athame is responsible for her current condition, and warns Piper and Phoebe to save Raige while they still can. Then, Brenda The Rilly Rilly Old Dyke drops dead. Piper and Phoebe spend not a second mourning the loss of an innocent, instead spinning to flee the cave and ending up...
...back in Not!warts, where they clatter into the Not-So-Great Hall, screaming Raige's name. They stop short in shock as the camera cuts to reveal another octogenarian on the sofa, this actress clad in Raige's too-tight pink top and too-low lime-green pants. "Well," Rilly Rilly Old Raige dodders, "now I'm a ma'am." See? Did I not warn you of that one-liner's wretchedness at the top of the hour? And was I not right? I must admit, though, that the sight of these little old ladies in screeching slutwear is making me giggle. I'm convinced, you see, that someone, somewhere is using them to send a not-so-subtle suggestion in Alyssa Milano's direction. If you know what I mean. In any event, Piper and Phoebe, as we've come to expect in situations such as this, gawp their collective way into the commercial break.
What's with the "hot" girl-on-girl action in the Smallville promo? Is it Barely Legal Lesbian Week at the WB? Scumbags.
Nonexistent Attic. Rilly Rilly Old Raige orbs into the room with Piper and Phoebe and nearly drops dead herself from the effort. By the way, they chose not to squeeze this poor actress's feet into the same pointy, high-heeled pink pumps Rose McGowan had been wearing, evidently believing that the pink halter top and lime-green hip-huggers' assault on her dignity was more than enough abuse for one paycheck. Piper bellows for the Dolt, and the rapid dialogue that follows is so convoluted, I'll just fire off the two main points: The Dolt can't heal Raige because she's suffering from a curse, and there's no reversal for that curse in the Book of Shadows. Just then, Harrr!ve's parrot arrives on the windowsill to croak, "Shiver me bitches!" No, seriously. The bird just called them all bitches. Including the Dolt. Hee. Piper prepares to unleash a Hand Of Discontent, but Phoebe, noticing the slip of parchment in the bird's beak, calls a halt to Piper's wrath in favor of retrieving the note. The Dolt lopes over to pluck the paper from the bird's claw, and reads the following: "Captain Black Jack Cutting cordially invites you to Treasure Island."
Smash-cut to La Cueva Del Booty, where the Scurvy Cur and an associate hold knives at Piper and Phoebe's necks. Phoebe quite predictably calls parley, because you know they had to fit that in here somewhere, but they fuck it up anyway because Phoebe doesn't explain it correctly. I don't care anymore. Harrr!ve finally arrives to get to the goddamned point already. He demands the Charmed Ones activate The Fountain Of Youth, which is that dismal bit of pock-marked garden sculpture we've been staring at all evening in La Cueva's corner. Activating The Fountain, he informs them, "is the only way to save your precious sister's life." Holly Marie Combs darts a blistering glare in Alyssa Milano's direction all "I cannot believe how shitty this show has become since you had Shannen fired" as we slip into the final commercial break.
Nonexistent Attic. Piper stands at the Book, scribbling a spell on a piece of notepaper as the Dolt howls, "He wants you to do what?" "Break into a museum," Piper calmly replies. "To find The Fountain Of Youth?" the Dolt splutters. "No," Piper tartly replies, "to steal a golden chalice that turns on The Fountain Of Youth." "Piper, you can't do this," the Dolt insists, and you know what? He's totally right, because it's totally, massively stupid. Piper's already got the spell. All they need do now is have the Dolt orb his tired ass over to the museum and orb right back out with the artifact in question. No need for any of the bullshit that follows. At. All. Of course, they don't listen to me, choosing instead to bicker and harp at each other for seven hundred years until Piper storms out of the nonexistent room in A Mood.
"San Francisco Museum Hall Of The 18th Century." Piper and Phoebe, dressed up like Dieter on Sprockets -- and no, they may not touch my monkey -- stride past the security guard Piper's just frozen, and this is all so pointless because they could have just had the Dolt orb in and swipe the fucking chalice, so you know what? We'll be skipping through this sequence, in all its To Catch A Thief-meets-The Pink Panther-meets-The Thomas Crown Affair-meets-Mission: Impossible-meets-The Thomas Crown Affair again, some more, non-glory. Deal. Piper and Phoebe gaze upon the exhibition's main hall from the balcony above, eyeing the flickering security lasers. "If we pull this off," Phoebe breathes, "[Raige] owes me Prada." "And babysitting for a year," Piper mutters. Okay. Heh. Piper freezes the laser beams just as Sparklies rings Phoebe on her cell. She's late for their "date," you see. We get a quick cut over to Sparklies in the restaurant, where he grunts at his watch before flipping a couple of bills onto the table and stomping off in a huff. Meanwhile, back in the museum, Phoebe tumbles and dodges and weaves her way through the frozen laser beams until she reaches the glass display case containing the chalice. Piper blows the case up, then quickly freezes the shards in mid-air. Phoebe plucks the chalice from its stand, but Piper's freeze for some reason did not include the pressure sensor at the chalice's base, so of course the alarm system goes off and the freeze on everything breaks and Piper and Phoebe race through the museum hallway and STUPID! Pepper, the Doormat, and Kerr Smith (Who Is Not Gay) emerge from their hiding place in a nearby antechamber, with Pepper champing at the bit to bust the non-elderly Ps immediately. Kerr Smith, Who Is Still Not Gay, In Case You Were Wondering, snatches at her hand and notes, "I don't want to catch them stealing. I want to catch them using magic." The Doormat's all, "Oh, shit."
La Cueva Del Booty. Phoebe and Piper arrive with the chalice. As his merry band of swashbuckling sissies looks on, Harrr!ve takes the chalice from Phoebe's hand and, after depositing his parrot on a nearby stack of trunks, crosses to The Fountain Of Pock-Marked Plaster Of Paris, where he orders Piper to recite the following spell:
With these offerings, I call on Thee,
The Goddess Of Fertility:
Rise now. Show us the truth.
Give us the gift of eternal youth.
The Fountain Of Pock-Marked Plaster Of Paris, which features a nymrod toting an urn, immediately expels a stream of glowing blue liquid into the chalice. The pirates Arrr!, as is their wont. Harrr!ve sucks down about half the liquid in the cup and immediately flares white before morphing into some twentysomething actor who looks absolutely nothing like a young Harrr!ve Presnell, but no one really cares, because he's not sticking around long enough to merit much of our attention. You see, when Piper demands he live up to his end of the bargain by restoring Raige, Not Really Harrr!ve replies by ordering his underlings to off Piper and Phoebe. Phoebe invokes parley, correctly arguing that, as Not Really Harrr!ve has broken a promise, his crew no longer owes him allegiance. The Scurvy Cur knocks Not Really Harrr!ve to the ground and runs him through with a cutlass. That would be the sword, not the discontinued automobile. Not Really Harrr!ve morphs quickly back into Yep It's Really Harrr!ve form before dissolving in a puff of smoke and ash. Scurvy Cur and the other guys hang around long enough to thank Phoebe for freeing them from their particular brand of Hell on earth before they, too, break apart into dust. Harrr!ve's parrot gets in one final squawk before he vanishes as well, and I'm sorry, but if he was a corporealized ghost, too, how did he get to the Manor in broad daylight with no fog? I hate this stupid, assy show. Phoebe snatches up the chalice to deliver its remaining contents to Raige as Piper, noting that they "don't want this happening again," detonates The Fountain Of Pock-Marked Plaster Of Paris with her Hands. Pepper, who'd sneaked up behind them during all of the fun, pulls her service revolver on them and orders them face-down onto the ground. Pleas to the Doormat for assistance go unanswered, but quite suddenly, Pepper goes cross-eyed and drops out of the frame, revealing Kerr Smith, Who Is Still Not Gay In Case You Were Wondering, And In Fact Has Perfect Non-Gay Aim With His Little Dart Gun, in the background. Oh, whatever. "Who are you?" Piper demands. "Someone you owe now," he replies before adding, "Go on, get out of here. You got a sister to save, right?" Piper and Phoebe goggle for a bit before leaving La Cueva Del Booty for good. Once they've gone, Kerr Smith, Not Gay And Loving It!, tucks the dart gun into his waistband and asks of the Doormat, "Think you can give me a hand with her?" The Doormat gapes. "Seriously," Kerr Smith, Who Is Most Strenuously Not Gay, Yet Not Quite Heterosexually Strenuous Enough To Deal With Pepper On His Own, adds. "I think I'm gonna need some help." They bend to haul the still unconscious Pepper to her feet as the screen cross-fades to a brief closing travelogue that eventually takes us back to the Manor.
Up in the Bridal Boudoir, the neglectful Dolt lies unconscious on the bed with a book open on his chest. Tiny Gay Chris writhes beside him atop the comforter while the dead-eyed Psycho stares at them both with murderous intent. We find Piper, still clad in her ridiculous Dieterwear, gazing fondly at the trio from the doorway, as a freshly rejuvenated Raige bounds down the stairs from the attic. There's banter about the aging process before Raige wonders what "that Agent Brody guy" wanted. Piper admits she hasn't a clue before Raige redirects her attention towards the slumbering Dolt. The book's gone from his chest in this shot, but reappears in the cut over to the bed after Raige mumbles something about the Dolt doing "a good job." Wish I could say the same for the continuity editor. The gals ponder the Dolt's many mysteries for a moment before Raige bids her sister goodnight and heads back up to the attic. No sooner has Raige vanished up the stairs than Elder Infanticide orbs in to take her place. "It's not over yet, you know," he opens. Piper spins around, shocked at the intrusion. "Just don't give up on him, Piper," he continues. "We're all going to need him back before The Gathering Storm." And with that, Elder Infanticide orbs right back out through the ceiling, leaving the violated Piper to very deliberately cross into her bedroom and lock the door behind her.
All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me, and EW! I am not recapping this. Phoebe arrives to apologize for skipping her "date" with Sparklies earlier that evening, and by way of apology has sex with him on her assistant's desk. No, I'm not kidding with that. And...scene!
Oh, and...episode! as well. How...long overdue. week, something happens, but I really couldn't tell you what that something is because the promo's all about The Amazing Incredible Heterosexual, Charisma Carpenter, and Nick Lachey. Watch it if you dare.