A quick thanks to the lovely and engaging and whip-smart keckler and her equally lovely and engaging and whip-smart husband, Dr. Mathra, for the delightful afternoon I spent with them last weekend while they were in town for a wedding. I had a great time, guys, and can't wait to sit down for cocktails with you two again.
Previously on Charmed, the stupid Dolt wouldn't stop whining already. And...that's about it. Did we really need to be reminded of that? The moron whines every week.
Currently on Charmed, the camera fades up quickly on a leafy green tree rustling in the balmy breeze -- in San Francisco, in February -- before panning down to reveal Piper's suspicious-looking Grand Cherokee parked rather conspicuously on the grounds of an Army base -- of which none currently exist in the Bay Area -- across a fountained courtyard from said base's -- and I'm guessing here based on the sign -- CHAPEL. How Piper was able to drive that thing directly onto a military base, one can only guess, but it's nice to know the current administration is clearly channeling appropriate funds to military security and not, say, siphoning those funds off into yet another quarter-of-a-billion-dollar, pork-laden corporate tax cut. Stalwart types who will see their active-duty and Veterans' Administration benefits drastically slashed should the current administration hang around for another four years salute each other as they wander past the car, nary a one of them bothering to stop and question the two shrill women in the Grand Cherokee's front seat regarding their business there. Indeed, none of the passing gentlemen so much as glance in the SUV's direction. Whatever. I'm clearly more worried about a car bomb than any of these muscle-brained, lunkheaded extras on the nonexistent military base are, so let's just drop it.
The camera eventually swivels to land on Raige and Piper, each on a cell phone, bitching to Phoebe and the latest disposable P3 bar manager, respectively. Raige testily informs Phoebe that they haven't spotted the "half-demon, or whatever the hell he is" as of yet, as Piper wearily instructs the disposable manager to borrow a couple of cases of beer from a nearby watering hole in advance of this evening's opening. Because this is television, the ladies reach the end of their conversations at the exact same time and hang up simultaneously. Because this is Charmed, they do so with irritatingly exaggerated eye-rolls along with some mighty mugging. "Why is it," Raige growls, "every time Phoebe runs away from a guy, we actually pay for it?" "She [bangs Sparklies on her secretary's desk at the office]," Piper commiserates, "and suddenly she's got us chasing demons all over town while P3 falls apart." "And she has to get her active powers back, because we can't keep picking up the slack," Raige grumbles, for Phoebe's long-lost active powers are An Important Plot Point This Evening, and Attention Must Be Paid. Even though, you know, they were constantly picking up faithless Phoebe's slack even when she actually had her active powers, but whatthefuckever. Eventually, Raige drops the griping long enough to shrug and note that she cast a protection spell on their latest innocent anyway, so he should be okay, demon or no. Piper nearly chokes on the strawberry Twizzler she'd been stuffing into her snippy gob and extracts it to peeve, "Protection spells backfire -- that's why we don't use them." Raige waves her hands around and mumbles that she got the spell from her "best grad student," so Piper should just chill the fuck out for once in her life already. Wait a minute. Raige got the spell from Would-Be-Slampiece Lurch? The infant from two weeks ago? This should work out well for them. Not.
Piper dumps her half-chewed Twizzler back into the bucket on the seat between them when she spots their "on-the-move" innocent across the courtyard. Despite the fact that the car is parked all of thirty feet from the guy, Raige yanks a pair of binoculars from her cleavage to track him as he ambles around the courtyard's fountain to disappear into the CHAPEL. "He's going in alone," Piper murmurs. "Come on!" Raige scrambles to retrieve her shoes from the floor of the cab as Piper impatiently rolls her eyes some more and grunts.
Inside the rather spartan CHAPEL, the innocent of the week kneels on the steps leading to the altar with his head bowed, rather than praying in a pew like a normal person, because someone told the director it would look better this way. And that someone should really know what he's talking about before he opens his damned mouth the time. "Come to pray, have you, Arthur?" a clearly disreputable type in a grey hooded jacket scoffs as he enters the frame with his back to us. Well, bub, considering the fact that this is a CHAPEL and that Artie here is the chaplain, um, YEAH. Douchebag. Chaplain Artie, a "Hey, It's That Guy!" perhaps best known as Coach Strickland from Third Rock from the Sun (no, I never watched it, but somebody must have), hauls himself to his feet and spins around to confront the intruder, whom he recognizes immediately as "Kevin." Kevin, who's been keeping his shadowy right profile to the camera up to this point, sneers, "That's actually my human name," as he twists his neck around and slides off his hood to reveal the lumpy, green, and demonically reptilian left side of his face. Holy crap. It's Scott Farkus from A Christmas Story! Scott Farkus! What a rotten name! There he stands, between Chaplain Artie and the exit, staring out at us with his yellow eye! He has a yellow eye! So help me, God -- a YELLOW EYE!
Ahem. Sorry. I've seen that movie entirely too many times on TNT. And yet it still holds far more interest for me than the bumbling and poorly phrased expository rant in which Rotten Scott Farkus has found himself. Go figure. Long, tedious story short, Rotten Scott is half-demon on his father's side, will become full demon once he "eliminate[s] the last of [his] human lineage," and so conjures a Flaming Ball Of Death that's got Artie's name written all over it. Piper and Raige scamper into the CHAPEL seconds too late to prevent the FBOD from rocketing out of Rotten Scott's palm and into Chaplain Artie's chest. The FBOD rips right through the guy, eventually scorching the far wall as the force of the impact sends Chaplain Artie's stunt double flying backwards through the air to crash unseen to the floor behind the altar. Piper instantly unleashes her Hands of Discontent, but the explosive mojo merely sparks against Scott Farkus's lower back, propelling him forward onto his knees rather than sending him howling and wailing in a merry blaze down to Hell. "Ouch," he smirks wickedly as he deploys a little mojo of his own to glide effortlessly back to his feet. After pausing to slither a few menacing noises in the Glamorous Ladies' general direction, he lunges towards the gals and shoots sporking bolts of electricity at them from his left hand. Piper and Raige dive behind a pew for protection as Chaplain Artie warily pokes his head up from behind the altar to see what's going on in the CHAPEL proper. "How many powers does this guy have?" Piper frowns as she and Raige rise hesitantly from their own temporary shelter. Raige spots Artie as soon as her head clears the bench, and she screams, "Get down!" Rotten Scott darts a filthy look at her before conjuring another FBOD, which he flips altar-wards. Raige, thinking fast, redirects the thing back towards Rotten Scott with her orbing telekinesis, but he squiggles out at the last moment, and the FBOD fizzles out harmlessly on the carpet. As Rotten Scott has seemingly vacated the premises for the time being, Piper decides to race from her pew and hop up to the altar for an awkward meet-and-greet with the innocent of the week as Raige puckers her lips in dismay. You see, Chaplain Artie has a CGI hole the size of Goldie Hawn's head in his torso, and yes, it looks just like the one dear Goldie sported in Death Becomes Her, only a little more fake. Piper swings behind Chaplain Artie, bends to peer through the gaping hole, and sing-songs, "You're a walking lie, Chaplain Artie, and I can see right through you!" Or maybe she just snots, "Nice protection spell, sis," as Raige wah. Wah. Waaaaaahs her way into the opening credits.
Shit. Now I have Meryl Streep cackling, "Flaaa-ccid! FLAAAAAAA-CCID!" in my head.
We return from the first set of commercials to fade up instantly on the Dolt's gargantuan gargoyle head as it telegraphs its shock over Chaplain Artie's gaping hole to the off-camera Ps with a pair of wildly wiggling eyebrows. No opening travelogue? Again? For the fourth time this season? The sense of foreboding and dread I feel at the moment is nearly crippling. The camera pans up past Artie's gaping hole to Artie's gaping maw as he bellows, "How did this happen?" The gals have somehow transported him back to the Manor parlor during the break, and Chaplain Artie stands there on the carpet, huffing his outrage while Phoebe and Raige casually arrange themselves on one of the nearby overstuffed armchairs. "Actually," Phoebe grins unhelpfully, "we're not really sure." Her ravaged hair's slicked back from her forehead and knotted into a bristly tuft masquerading as a ponytail, and she sports a red-and-black silk form-fitting halter that's suspended from one shoulder with a thick length of twisted black rope. No, I don't get it, either. Piper enters from the hallway with a jacket, which she offers to Chaplain Artie as politely as she can given the circumstances while wondering, "Would you mind covering up? It's a little unnerving." Not as unnerving as the dearth of Travelogue Ovaries thus far this season, hon. Piper turns to join the Dolt on another chair as Raige attempts to explain the situation. The explanation, however, is hijacked by the bickering that quickly erupts amongst the Glamorous Ladies over Phoebe's Sparklies situation, like, rude! Chaplain Artie too patiently tolerates far too much of this bullshit before he announces that he must find his wife and bolts for the back door. At Phoebe's prompting, Raige orbs out of the armchair to halt him. "Can't have him wandering around San Francisco like that with Agent Brody snooping around," Phoebe whispers conspiratorially to Piper. Um, why, Phoebe? The Amazing Incredible Heterosexual already knows you're witches, you dipshit. Why'd you even bother mentioning his name just now? Whatever. Like I really care. In any event, Raige orbs back into the room with the chaplain, who looks like he'd vomit were he still in possession of a functioning digestive tract. As it is, he collapses onto the sofa while Raige bitches some more about Not!warts and her to-do list and shut it, you lippy wench. If you didn't want the fucking job, you shouldn't have accepted it. Artie finally cuts through the crap to splutter, "Am I alive or dead?" The Dolt's forced to admit that they're not entirely certain. Suddenly, from behind them all, a vaguely familiar voice croons, "I may be able to answer that question."
Artie struggles to his feet as he and the Manor Morons direct their attention towards The Famous Original Angel Of Death now occupying the center parlor. The camera shudders in on Simon Templeman's face with such unnecessary and jolting speed that Chaplain Artie loses what's left of his tattered composure to drop once more to the sofa, senseless, with the force of his collapse toppling a priceless Tiffany lamp from the adjacent table. We hear the antique crash to the floor, and Grams is gonna be hella pissed when she finds out about that. The ladies barely acknowledge their grievously injured and now unconscious innocent -- like, go figure -- before refocusing their scattered attention on Death, who introduces himself by noting that he became well acquainted with their sister, mother, and grandmother back in the day. He pointedly neglects to include Raige's crispy adoptive parents in that little run-down, so I'm guessing Death called in sick that day. Long story short, he's there for Chaplain Artie, but for some reason cannot claim Artie's soul, despite Artie's decided lack of life at the moment. "It's fascinating, really," Death notes with a hint of a smile on lips, "I've never had this problem before." "Any ideas why?" he adds accusatorily, eyeing each of the Manor Morons in turn. Raige admits -- again -- to her fault in the matter, and Death orders her to reverse the protection spell immediately. Piper objects, for if Raige complies, the demon wins. "You don't understand," Death explains with preternatural calm as he conjures a smoking piece of parchment into his right hand. "People have to die in the order on my list. Otherwise, the cosmic balance is thrown off." Okay. We'll go with that for now. Even though, you know, Chaplain Artie's name fails to appear in either the "Dead" or the "To Die" column when we get a close-up of the list in question, but whatever. Who am I to question Death? Phoebe protests that they can't let Rotten Scott Farkus get away with murdering his family. The Angel Of Death reminds them that the ongoing battle between good and evil is none of his concern, as he's an entirely neutral entity charged with the singular task of escorting the freshly dead into the great beyond, thereby "maintaining the grand design." "In order to do that," he warns, "I must claim the soul of the chaplain soon." "I'll be back," he vows, before disappearing in a smoky twist of dark blue mojo that is entirely unlike his former method of transport. Interestingly, though, the new mojo for the briefest of instants transforms him into a transparent, blue-tinted, black-cowled skeleton the moment before he vanishes completely. Pretty cool effect, but I must admit I much prefer it when he suddenly, unexpectedly manifests himself behind people like some gigantic and wry Death-In-The-Box.
Phoebe immediately wheels around to proffer a hastily-arrived-at yet cunning plan. Raige just as immediately shouts her down, insisting they'll do nothing and like it until Phoebe sorts through her Sparklies issues. Because that makes total sense, you stupid bitch. The mechanism of death has ground to a halt because of your dumbass spell, but you're not going to do anything about it until Phoebe fucks her jackhole of a replacement again. That is so smart, Raige! S-M-R-T SMART! Piper, for some asinine reason, sides with the lippy half-sister, and the two browbeat Phoebe until the latter finally caves and exits for All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. Raige, meanwhile, decides to orb back to Not!warts to work on a reversal while Piper remains in the Manor to whip up some sort of vanquishing potion for Rotten Scott Farkus. Once Phoebe and Raige have drifted from the room, Piper urges the Dolt to head up to Whitelighterland and fill his fellow ever-useless Elders in on the current Death sitch. The Dolt whines about it for all of three seconds before obediently orbing upwards, because he's whipped. During all of this, Chaplain Artie has snapped his eyelids open and exaggeratedly tiptoed out of the house through the sun porch doors, so that when Piper turns to check on him, she finds an empty couch. "Oh, great," she grits.
The Only Hospital In San Francisco. A gory gentleman flatlines in the emergency room, and the attending calls it after applying the paddles exactly once. Poor guy's HMO probably wouldn't cover the additional electricity needed for another shock or two. The camera swings to reveal The Angel Of Death waiting patiently by the doors, and as the heart monitor continues to blare in the background, Death reaches out for the soul of the freshly deceased gorefest on the gurney. The gorefest's soul struggles to rise from its body but quickly gets sucked back in, much to Death's befuddled consternation. After a beat, the heart monitor starts beeping again. The emergency room staff is shocked and appalled. Death is royally miffed. Rotten Scott Farkus is crafty, and pokes his head through the doors to catch Death's eye and mutter, "Looks like we both have a problem."
Out in the corridor, Death -- who is casting a shadow on the floor, because this show sucks, and I want Simon Templeman to escort me into the great beyond NOW -- storms over to Rotten Scott to ice, "How is it that you see me, demon?" Heh. Death's tone indicates he clearly believes Rotten Scott isn't fit to lick his boots. Or his sickle. And I just totally grossed myself out, so we'll fast-forward to the point where Rotten Scott admits he's been collecting "gifts" from each person he offs, which can only mean the human side of his family is magical as well, but I really don't care, because he's going to be dead by the end of the hour anyway. Rotten Scott's evil yellow eye does, however, provide nearly all of the relevant expository blather here, so I am forced to pay heed when it notes that Raige's fucking with the grand design has caused a "bottleneck" wherein death ceases to exist. In other words, because Chaplain Artie can't die, and because people must pass on in some sort of predetermined sequence, everyone following Artie on Death's list will remain unnaturally alive until someone reverses Raige's protection spell. I think I just explained tonight's central conceit far better than anyone on this show ever does. Oy. In any event, Rotten Scott proposes he and Death combine their many, many talents so that Death might reverse Raige's spell himself. Death looks none too pleased with this turn of events -- mainly, we're meant to believe, because of his contract's neutrality clause, but also because Rotten Scott has clapped too affable a hand upon Death's shoulder during this exchange, and Death clearly wants reward the gesture by slamming Scott's head through a wall. Heh.
All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me and Sparklies and STILL. NOT. CARING! Thank GOD he's only around for one more episode. Though once he's gone, I won't be able to skip through nearly all of Phoebe's scenes. That'll suck. In any event, the blockheads babble about their nonexistent relationship issues until Sparklies mentions that Agent Brody stopped by the office the day, asking all sorts of intrusive questions. And...scene!
Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World. Detective Doormat's getting his bitch ass slapped around by Kerr Smith, who still looks like he's all of fourteen years old. Darryl's such a pussy. "I have been on a trail for years that has just now led me to [the Halliwells]," Kerr Smith spits in an entirely heterosexual manner, "and as soon as they know that I know that they're magical, and that I'm not a threat to them, they're gonna have to help me." But they already know that you know that they're magical, so...you know what? Fuck it. Because of the massive amounts of time they're wasting on Nick Lachey, Kerr Smith's ruggedly heterosexual storyline won't advance to the virile forefront where it rightfully belongs until Sparklies is gone for good, so whatever. So-Straight-It-Kerrts "suggests" that the Doormat help him, otherwise the Doormat will find himself transferred to "another district" just like his pal, Pepper Anderson. What, so they got rid of her, too? So, why'd they unleash that massive continuity error involving the blood sample if they were just going to...you know what? Fuck it. I don't care anymore. With that, twelve-year-old Kerr Smith snatches up his manly suitcoat and totally does not flounce out of the office, because He Is So Obviously Not That Way.
Somewhere on the Paramount back lot (which they just used as "Brooklyn" in the Enterprise season premiere, like, I hoped they hosed it down thoroughly after Phoebe skanked her naked way across it on that horse of hers), Chaplain Artie races up a set of stairs to vault into what I suppose is meant to be a deeply touching and heartfelt scene between his soon-to-be-dead self and his wife, a spunky brunette named Harriet who's sporting a really kicky pair of black slingbacks. Unfortunately, because the scene is so dreadfully scripted, and because we're never going to see either of these people again, ever, I remain unmoved. Harriet eventually disappears into the building for her OB/GYN appointment -- which means she's pregnant, because this is Charmed and Artie's impending death must be made Doubly Tragic, because What Of The Children? Will No One Think Of The Children? -- and...where the hell was I? Oh, yeah: The sweaty, clammy Artie retreats sadly to the sidewalk after Harriet tosses him one final, affectionate glance. "I've been looking all over for you," Death-In-The-Box wryly mellows. Heh. I love it when he sneaks up on people like that. Artie looks freaked.
Meanwhile, back at the Manor, Piper's scries fruitlessly for Artie up in the nonexistent attic as Raige orbs back in from Not!warts with the depressing news that she can't reverse the spell and keep Artie alive at the same time. Piper's now more worried about The Angel Of Death, thank you very much, and frets that she can't find the chaplain, anyway, because Raige's protection spell is blocking him from their magic as well. Just then, the scrying crystal unexpectedly slams down upon a set of map coordinates. "You didn't lift the spell?" Piper wonders. "No, I told you I didn't," Raige snappishly confirms. "Then who did?" Piper asks. Raige shakes that tangled rats' nest she's calling a hairdo around as the shot cuts back to...
...the now fully-dead Artie, who lies on his back on a loading dock adjacent to the street. The Angel Of Death hovers above the corpse, passing a hand over Artie's face as Raige orbs in with Piper to snot, "What have you done?" "What I should have done in the first place," Death coolly replies. "I've reversed your spell and took [sic] the chaplain's soul." "And you helped a demon in the process!" Piper cries. "On the contrary," Death corrects her, "your demon helped me." "You can't do that!" Piper rages. "You're supposed to be neutral!" "Circumstances were unusual," Death enunciates carefully as he steps over to lecture them on the consequences of meddling with the grand design. He fills them in on the true repercussions of Raige's spell -- that whole end-of-death-as-we-know-it thing -- before rather vexedly noting that he'll have to "work overtime" collecting souls to restore the balance. "We've done more than anyone to protect your 'grand design,'" Piper condescends. "Just leave it!" Raige hisses. Piper, ignoring her, continues to bitch, "You know, we've given up a lot to make sure you have less work." She then launches herself into some ill-considered and absurd rant about her nightclub and her kids and her husband and her wah before topping it all off with a snide "It's not our fault you can't keep up!" Death glowers as Piper spins on her heel to exit onto the sidewalk, Raige racing along behind her.
"That isn't my problem," Death begins, stalking after them. "Well, it sure as hell isn't my problem!" Piper shrews over her shoulder. "Stop yelling at Death!" Raige exasperates. Oh, fine: Heh. "I don't care! He's getting on my last nerve!" Piper shrikes as she plows obliviously into the middle of the street, nearly getting whacked by a car in the process. Hee. That would have been funny, if a bit difficult to clean up afterwards. As Piper and Raige reach the opposite sidewalk and continue to clomp gracelessly away from him, Death announces, "You witches created this mess, not me. And you're going to help me clean it up." With that, he stretches out a hand. Piper goes bobble-headed for a second before planting her face in the pavement. Raige shrieks as concerned passersby skitter over to bray for ambulances and whatnot. Presently, a rather solid-looking spectral version of Piper materializes in a smoky twist of Death-like mojo, clad in a long, black coat. Yeah, they're ripping the look off of City Of Angels, which ripped it off of Wings Of Desire, but whatever. It's appropriate enough, if a little convenient and dull. Howls of protest ensue before Death promises to return Piper's soul to her body as soon as she's taken care of "the backlog." He conjures up a parchment list which he passes to her before vanishing in a smoky mojo twist of his own. Piper glances dismissively at the sheet of paper before crossing her arms in a fury and pouting her way into the commercial break.
Todesfällestrasse. Aftermath. I was gonna go Spanish on the street name, but German seems so much more appropriate, don't you think? Anywho, the police have cordoned off the entire area, and the crew from the coroner's office has already zipped most of Artie's remains into a body bag. The camera pans slowly across the street, passing a news van with satellite dish extended as it goes, before landing on Raige and The Piper Of Death as they gaze upon the latter's mortal coil. "Well, do something," Piper gripes as a crime scene photographer snaps photos of Holly Marie Combs's frightfully bewigged body double. Seriously. Not only is the coloring about three shades too light on that thing, it's also been so heavily shellacked with product that it looks like someone taped a horseshoe crab to the poor woman's head. "What do you want me to do?" Raige yowls, heedless of the fact that only she can see and hear The Piper Of Death at the moment. "What are you yelling at me for, anyway?" Raige shrews. "It's not my issue!" Christ, she's an ungodly bitch tonight. Shut UP.
Raige's apparently insane screams attract the attention of The A-Team's Frankie "Dishpan" Santana (yes, this guy was on The A-Team for all of one season as some chump with the unfortunate nickname of Dishpan), who crosses from Artie's corpse to Piper's to chat with Crazy Raige, and wow. The wig on Combs's first body double was wretched enough, but now they've clearly swapped out the woman from the establishing shot to replace her with one who, while just as horribly bewigged, is also deeply, incredibly tan. Like, "quite possibly of Puerto Rican descent" tan. God, this show is awful. Anyway, Detective Dishpan ducks beneath the crime scene tape to open with, "Miss?" Both The Piper Of Death and Raige answer, leading Raige to shoot her invisible sibling A Look, and whatever. This shtick does little to amuse, so we'll be skipping over it. Long story short, there's an endless amount of the Crazy-Raige-talking-to-the-air bullshit before the guys from the coroner's office arrive to zip Piper's mocha-colored corpse into a body bag of its own. "Where are they taking me?" Piper Of Death panics. Raige translates, and learns Pipita's off to the morgue for an autopsy. Ultrasonic wailing from Piper Of Death leads Raige to lie quite hastily that autopsies violate the family's religious beliefs, but Detective Dishpan is adamant, citing state law mandating autopsies in all murder investigations. He passes Raige his card and exits as Raige glances across the street and mutters, "Oh, no." Piper Of Death wonders what could possibly be worse than the impending autopsy. "Agent Brody," Raige tightly grins. Piper follows Raige's gaze to spot Kerr Smith, looking distressingly hot as he leans against a car on the far end of the street, staring directly at Raige. "What's he doing here?" Piper Of Death hisses while ducking behind Raige, despite the fact that no one can hear or see her. I hate this show. "Probably watching me talk to myself," Raige grumbles with an irritated roll of her eyes. We get another glamour shot of Kerr Smith before heading back to...
...the Manor, where Phoebe powers into the center parlor from the sun porch as Raige orbs into the room. Phoebe barrages her with questions that Raige avoids answering until Piper Of Death materializes via her new transportation mojo. "Whoa," Phoebe Keanus. "How'd you do...what are you wearing?" Snerk. The delivery on that line was pretty good. Anyway, Piper bitches Raige out for not providing Phoebe with all of the relevant information, so Raige collapses into a chair and too casually notes that Death has "recruited" Piper for the afternoon. Piper conjures her dead list to exposit that she must collect every soul named on the thing before the coroner guts her shockingly tan corpse. Phoebe sucks on her teeth in a panic as Piper glances down at the parchment. The top name in the "Dead" column suddenly fades out, and the remaining names move up a notch as four people in the "To Die" column flare red and disappear. "Why are these names changing?" Piper wonders. Raige suggests consulting the Dolt. Piper snippily counter-suggests that they summon Death's ass to the Manor. Phoebe cuts through the crap to snatch the list from Piper's hand. After taking a glance at the names it contains, she quickly determines that Rotten Scott has not succeeded in his goal of offing all of his human relatives. If he had, she argues, his human half would have died, and his name would be in the "Dead" column. Only she refers to Rotten Scott by his demonic moniker of "Sirk," and none of them actually knows what his real name is, and this show sucks, and I will pay whatever is necessary to ensure that my name is on that fucking list. Whatever. The upshot is, Rotten Scott still has a blood relative running around out there somewhere, and he won't reach his full powers as an agent of Hell until that last relative is dead. Piper suddenly vanishes. "Where did she go?" Phoebe asks.
To The Only Hospital In San Francisco, of course. A middle-aged woman weeps over the fresh corpse of an elderly gentleman portrayed by an actor whose name -- I kid you not -- is Beans Morocco. The Piper Of Death watches sadly from a corner of the room until she can't take it anymore and turns her head. She jumps in surprise to find Beans standing beside her, kitted out in a white robe. "You scared me!" she bleats. "I scared you?" Beans incredulously replies. "Who are you, and what's happening?" "I think you might actually be dead," Piper ineptly informs him before tacking on an equally ill-chosen "I know. Bummer, huh?" This is it, gang. The Destruction Of Piper As We Know Her. You knew it was going to happen sooner or later. She's the only character they haven't completely fucked up, and now the crack monkeys have decided it's her turn. Enjoy! In any event, Piper and Beans look on as the middle-aged woman wails for a moment before the screen flares and they suddenly find themselves on The Ghastly Plane. Yes, a bit of continuity there, but unfortunately, they neglected to swipe the ChinoCam again for this sequence, so the blue wash is neither as grainy nor as muddied as we remember it from that last episode. The hospital room's doors swing open of their own accord, and Piper and Beans step into the corridor where, presently, a spinning, star-like white portal appears. Piper deduces that she's meant to lead Beans into the light, and so gently takes his hand and urges him forward. "If it makes you feel any better," she admits as they approach the portal, "I'm a little scared, too." They vanish, and the shot lingers on the spinning special effect for a moment before cutting over to...
...Rotten Scott Farkus screaming, "You lied to me!" as he conjures a Flaming Ball Of Death that he drives towards Charisma Carpenter's tits. She squiggles out, allowing the FBOD to pass harmlessly by before rematerializing and stating directly into the camera, "Hello? I'm a seer. I saw that coming." Thanks for breaking the fourth wall, hon. Now get back into the scene, you bint. Long story short, Charisma's been assisting Rotten Scott in his quest to become fully demonic, but she neglected to notice one final "little" member of Rotten Scott's bloodline. She sweeps a hand across the surface of her massive fortunetelling birdbath, and the silvery liquid within ripples. We're not told what it reveals, but Rotten Scott giggles at the sight, all, "Excellent!"
Manor. On the sun porch television, KTMV has interrupted its regularly scheduled programming to bring the Dolt a live special report on the day's DEATH IN THE STREETS. "It's unclear whether the death of local club impresario Piper Halliwell," a reporter begins, and I immediately start snorting so loudly that I miss the rest of the report. "Club impresario"? "Club IMPRESARIO"? Pull the other one, you fucking tools. Hee. Phoebe joins the Dolt to assure him that everything will be okay. "Piper's been dead before," she reminds him. "Not like this," he glums, shaking his head sadly, "on the midday news?" Snerk. Yeah, that's a real deal-breaker right there, Dolt. You idiot. Phoebe whatevers impatiently as Raige enters from the dining room on the cordless, thanking an unknown caller for their condolences. Phoebe wonders if they can rely upon The Cleaners to fix their current mess. "Not after the last time," the Dolt asserts, because the casting budget can't support those two goons on top of everyone else they loaded into this episode. "If Piper suddenly wakes up in the morgue, you have to explain it." Phoebe insists they'll figure something out as Raige prepares to call the Doormat to see if he can delay Piper's autopsy. The Dolt orbs out to take care of the kids over at Not!warts just as the doorbell rings. Phoebe grumbles and crosses to answer, and it's Sparklies come to offer his manly shoulder for Phoebe to cry upon, and drop dead, Nick Lachey. A pointless scene between the two of them ensues on the front steps before Phoebe stumbles across yet another cunning plan. She hastily bids farewell to Sparklies and darts back to the porch to let Raige know that if Rotten Scott has targeted yet another family member, that person's name should have already appeared on Piper's list. They vanish into the Manor to summon Piper, slamming the door shut behind them.
CHAPEL Of Our Lady Of Diminishing Military Benefits. Harriet perches in a pew to gaze bleakly at the altar, no doubt wondering how she could possibly raise a child on her late husband's rapidly evaporating pension, until Rotten Scott mumbles her name from somewhere behind. She turns, spots his scales, freaks, and bolts for the exit, but Rotten Scott grabs her by the wrist to make with threats and the seething and boring! Long story short, he confirms she's knocked up with his last blood relative, and prepares to scorch her pregnant ass. As he conjures an FBOD, The Piper of Death materializes at Harriet's side. For some insanely stupid reason, Harriet can see her. Scott sneers that The Piper Of Death can't intervene, as she's now officially neutral for the afternoon. "You're right," Piper confirms as the shrieking racket of Raige's orb cloud hits the soundtrack. "I can't. But they can." Rotten Scott turns to get a taste of Phoebe's pump as she boots him upside the head with her heel. She and Raige then race down the aisle to orb out with the visibly addled Harriet as Scott lurches to his feet to vow that while Harriet's name might have disappeared from Piper's list for the moment, he'll ensure she ends up in the Dead column sooner or later. Piper receives this threat with an even gaze as Scott squiggles out. Piper glances once more at the piece of paper in her hand. Phoebe's name suddenly materializes at the top of the To Die column. HOORAY! Piper, alas, does not share in my joy, but instead knits her brow until it gets all snarled up in the commercial break.
Not!warts Not-So-Great Hall. Piper's apparently had Raige orb Phoebe to the school for the latter's protection. Phoebe protests she can still be of use in tonight's ongoing battle against Rotten Scott Farkus, as names come and go on Death's list all the time, but The Piper Of Death will brook no dissent. Mindful that The Late Lamented's name eventually hit the list and remained there, Piper declares that she can't lose another sister and stomps out, vanishing in a cloud of smoky Death mojo halfway down the hall. Raige, who'd been joined by the Dolt at some point, simply shrugs and tells Phoebe to get over it. As Phoebe still lacks her active powers, she'll just have to cool her heels while Raige and the Dolt take care of Rotten Scott themselves. With that, Raige and the Dolt orb out, leaving Phoebe alone to pout.
The Only Hospital In San Francisco. Piper stands unnoticed in the emergency room hall, waiting for Death himself, who presently materializes behind her. The scene that follows is directly cribbed both from "Apocalypse Not," in which they learned that sacrificing a family member sometimes serves the greater good, and from "Death Takes A Halliwell," where Prue learned that death was a necessary part of life. So, while it's nicely played by both Combs and Templeman, I've seen it already. Twice. And it was better the first two times. Death eventually exits, leaving Piper Of Death both lost in thought and a little teary-eyed as well.
Meanwhile, down in Hell, Rotten Scott Farkus is still blaming Charisma Carpenter for his shortcomings. She tells him to cram it sideways -- in a very Cordy-Lite way, of course -- but eventually passes a hand over her magical birdbath to give Scott one more glimpse into his immediate future. Sure was a terrific idea, wasn't it? Recruiting Charisma Carpenter for these pathetic, banal, and ultimately underwhelming little scenes that could have been played by any artificially enhanced bit of fluff from The Aspiring Hollywood Starlet Genetic Modification Ranch in Twentynine Palms? Yeah. Didn't think so.
Manor. Up in the nonexistent attic, Raige and the Dolt futz with a potion as The Piper Of Death smokes into the room to fume that Phoebe remains at the top of her list. "Did you find Sirk?" she demands. "He found us," Raige replies, "telepathically. He wants to arrange a truce." "It's a trap," Piper insists, arguing that Phoebe must remain at Not!warts until after they've dispatched the demon of the week. "Too late," Phoebe calls as she enters the nonexistent room from the stairs. "What are you doing here?" Piper asks. Good question. If neither the Dolt nor Raige orbed her skeletal ass back from Not!warts, how the hell did she return to the Manor? But that's not what Piper meant, nor will Phoebe herself ever address my question, so whatever. "Remembering what we're all about" is Phoebe's actual response, as she eases herself further into the attic. "What we're all about is keeping you alive," Piper claims. "Not at the expense of an innocent," Phoebe counters. Piper, not having it, grits, "Why are you not listening to me? I'm trying to save you!" "Because this isn't just about me," Phoebe blurts. Piper's reaction to this is wordless, but hysterical. Her expression just screams, "Wait. What? You've finally decided to try selflessness NOW?" Hee. "Look, I don't want to die," Phoebe continues, a bit more softly, "but I'm not going to sit around and wait for an innocent to die, either." Phoebe goes on to note that perhaps this is the reason she took her sabbatical -- to remind herself of her place in the grand scheme of things. Piper, having heard more than enough and still stubbornly refusing to learn Death's lesson, dematerializes. Phoebe, getting back to the matter at hand, confirms that Raige has finished mixing the vanquishing potion. Neither Raige nor the Dolt like where any of this is going, but Phoebe insists they have an advantage over Rotten Scott in that they know who's on Death's list. She offers herself as demon bait. While Scott's focused on her, Raige can do her thing with the vanquishing vial. Raige and the Dolt shake their heads a bit, but silently agree to the plan.
Cut to a dank and forbidding alleyway, where Rotten Scott Farkus broods atop a shipping crate as the Dolt orbs in with Phoebe a few yards away. Rotten Scott makes a couple of snide remarks as he slithers to his feet, but Phoebe orders him to knock it off with the demonic bullshit already and get to the point of the meeting. Rotten Scott predictably demands that they surrender Harriet in exchange for Phoebe's life. Phoebe's all, "No way," so Rotten Scott gets a glint in his yellow eye and states, "Then I guess I'll just have to kill..." He spins on his heel and forks a spork of electricity at Raige, who had silently slipped into the alleyway behind him. "Her!" Scott finishes as the bolt slams into Raige's chest and dumps her onto the asphalt, flat on her back. He quickly squiggles out as Phoebe and the Dolt, slackjawed with shock, race down the alleyway to Raige's side. The Dolt applies the tingly touch to Raige's rack, but it doesn't take. "Why isn't it working?" Phoebe demands. "Uh, beats the shit out of me," the Dolt admits. "I guess because the script says it can't? I mean, there have been plenty of times when you people have been dead for minutes on end, and the tingly touch has always sucked your souls back into your bodies. Hell, Raige's soul hasn't even bothered to float up into midair yet, and my tingly touch is still useless. So, you know, fuck if I know." Or maybe that was me. Piper materializes just as Raige's spirit finally emerges from her body, clad in The Ever-Present White Robe Of Moving On, Yo. Spectral Raige picks her way over to Piper's side, whereupon she coagulates into some sort of corporealized form. Raige suddenly realizes what just happened as Phoebe pleads with Piper to do something -- anything -- to save the lippy bastard. Piper sadly notes that she can't. Phoebe and the Dolt gaze down at Raige's lifeless face for a moment before the corpse disappears into the final commercial break.
Alleyway. Aftermath. There's a brief confrontation between Phoebe and The Piper Of Death before Piper and Raige flip into The Ghastly Plane. Raige shivers and hugs herself as she whispers, "This isn't good, right?" "I'm so sorry," Piper gently replies. "It's much easier if you just let go." Piper leads the way towards the suddenly appearing portal as Raige, almost breathless from shock and tearing up, chokes out, "Where does that go?" Piper turns and, trying to smile but welling up a bit herself, replies, "To where you're supposed to be." "Don't be afraid," she adds, reaching out for Raige's hand with one of her own. "I'll be with you all the way." Raige allows Piper to lead her closer to the portal as the scene abruptly cuts back to...
...the real alleyway, where Phoebe loses her shit until she's clocked in the teeth by a free-floating premonition. Rotten Scott Farkus wrestles with Harriet for a bit in an unknown location until she hauls off and smacks him across the face. She turns to flee, but he conjures a Flaming Ball Of Death that he launches in her direction. The FBOD flies through the air towards her screaming face as Phoebe snaps out of it. Shocked, she quickly tells the Dolt what just happened, guessing that she somehow earned back "at least one" of her powers. Because she cried for all of three seconds over Raige's corpse. Nice one, Elders. Not. Phoebe pries the vanquishing vial from Raige's rapidly stiffening fingers and announces, "We have to save Harriet."
Not!warts. Rotten Scott Farkus, having acquired Raige's powers when he killed her, has transported himself to the Not-So-Great Hall, where he is now menacing the perpetually imperiled Harriet. He conjures another FBOD as the Dolt orbs in behind him with Phoebe. Phoebe immediately hurls the vanquishing vial into Scott's back, and a swirling, buzzing cloud of brimstone erupts around his frame as his body bursts into flame from his feet up. Harriet dashes around the blazing half-demon to cower behind the Dolt. The flames eventually consume Rotten Scott Farkus entirely and billow up towards the ceiling. When they've vanished, we discover a de-demonized Scott still standing at the center of the room. "I'm human!" he wails before promptly dropping dead. Because people can now drop dead in Not!warts. I hate this stupid show. Death materializes to smirk, "Interesting how our paths keep crossing, isn't it?" as Scott's soul pops out of his twisted corpse. For some increasingly distracting and annoying reason, Harriet can still see all of this. For some even more distracting and annoying reason, Phoebe's suddenly an expert on the rules Death must obey, and also knows that Rotten Scott Farkus's name is not on Death's list. Just go with it. Please? There are only four minutes left. In any event, as Rotten Scott's unscheduled death would somehow screw with The Balance Of Things, she and the Dolt propose a trade: Raige's soul for Scott's. Death, instead of smiting all of these idiots on the spot, simply remarks that "it's been an unusual day" before tacitly agreeing to the deal.
Meanwhile, over on The Ghastly Plane, Raige has quite fortuitously not moved on, choosing instead to confess that she stole one of Piper's favorite jackets. And a pair of earrings. And a...oh, it doesn't matter, for Death has finally arrived with the soul of Rotten Scott Farkus, which Death backhands into the portal. The portal snaps shut once Scott's disappeared, and in response to the ladies' dumbfounded expressions, Death simply states, "See you." Heh. I like Death. And that makes me sound like some freakish Goth loser, so I'll keep this moving along to note that Death dematerializes for the last time this episode. Presently, Raige's essence vanishes from The Ghastly Plane to reanimate her corpse, which Phoebe and the Dolt ever so thoughtfully left where it fell. In a filthy rat-infested alleyway. Fuckers.
Meanwhile, over in the city morgue, the camera pans past several pairs of toe-tagged feet before landing on those belonging to Piper. Piper's toes suddenly curl, and she shudders and squirms to life beneath the tasteful linen sheet they've placed over her body. She pushes herself into sitting position a bit groggily and glances about the room for a bit before gasping in surprise when she spots Kerr Smith lounging quite causally in a wheelchair in the corner, the outfit she'd been wearing earlier in the day folded neatly in his lap -- but I'm sure he had some girl fold it for him, because he is So Totally Not That Way. "Talk about your miracle recoveries," he deadpans -- geddit? -- as he rises to pass Piper her clothing. "What are you doing here?" she squints. "Confirming magic exists," he replies as he ambles around behind her to lift the sheet on the body the slab over. And he already knew magic exists, and she knows that he already knew magic exists, so whatever. Wake me up when any of this becomes important. "What do you want?" Piper plugs on, not listening to me as she clutches her clothes against her chest defensively. Kerr Smith wants "to help [Piper] get out of this mess." "I want to tell the local authorities that you were working undercover for me," he continues. "I want to tell them that I asked you to fake your own death." Wow. Are the cops in San Francisco really that stupid? Oh, wait a minute. Darryl. I guess they are. "What's the catch?" Piper wants to know. "The catch," Kerr replies, choosing his words carefully, "is that I'm going to need your help with something even greater." Piper gapes. "I'll be in touch," Kerr adds, stepping out of the frame as the camera lingers on Piper's bug-eyed glare for a moment before the shot dissolves into...
...this evening's closing travelogue, which carries us above the city as night melts into day. Over on Prescott Street, Sparklies hesitantly approaches the Manor's front door, and so totally not caring, and why hasn't Nick Lachey ended up at the bottom of a ravine by now? Phoebe arrives, dressed in a rather modest white off-the-shoulder top over an ankle-length pink paisley-patterned skirt I'm sure I've seen before. Her hair's distressingly yanked down into two ugly pigtails, and she neglected to remember a slip, so her bony pins are clearly visible through the skirt's light material. God, she's gross. The two of course blather on endlessly about their nonexistent relationship issues, but we do learn that evidently, news of Piper's "undercover work" for Homeland Security has spread throughout the city. That's about it, really. They hug, and One! More! Episode! Just One More Episode until he's gone for good! Hooray!
Up on the sun porch, the Dolt places Tiny Gay Chris on a pillow on the floor and edges around the dead-eyed Psycho to join Piper on the wicker loveseat. Once his father has passed, the Psycho immediately tries to decide which of his toys would best mangle poor Tiny Chris's little limbs. "You want anything?" the Dolt asks as he slings an arm across the back of the loveseat. "Just this," Piper replies, smiling down at the wordlessly feuding infants before settling back into her ex-husband's arms. The camera begins a slow pan back into the final fade to black as the Psycho prepares to brain Tiny Gay Chris with a Fisher-Price school bus. Poor Chris.
week: Werewolves! Yeah, they did this one already, too, but this time, the hirsute transformation has the special added bonus of being tied to their menstrual cycles. Lovely. LOVELY.