Witchness Protection

Previously, on Demian's Thanksgiving From Hell And Other Sordid Tales From The Dark Side, de tongues of de Secretly INSANE Brodys is be full of deceits; Detective Doormat hissed that it was as if Pepper Anderson, The Best Policewoman In The History Of Forever, had "disappeared off the face of the earth"; de tongues of de Secretly INSANE Brodys is be full of deceits, again, some more; Raige and Secretly INSANE Brody totally did it, even though they tried to convince the audience otherwise; the Dolt got a promotion; de tongues of de Dolts is be full of deceits; the Dolt said it with roses; the Dolt was of the opinion that Piper would come to understand him in her own time; and Piper replied, "There may be hope for you yet." No, Piper. There is not and never has been any hope for the Dolt whatsoever. Shut up.

Currently on Charmed, the dead-eyed Psycho, having at last escaped Holly Marie Combs's impressive post-pregnancy cleavage, coldly yanks at his uncomfortable and ludicrous bowtie with one hand while preparing to ram a plastic toy frog up Crewman Daniels's nose with the other. No, seriously. It's Matt Winston from Enterprise, last seen rather smugly gloating to Cap'n Tightass himself about one damn thing or another as the timeline reset itself after those stupid Nazi episodes at the beginning of the season. Considering last week's push of The Great Big Reset Button In The Sky on this particular series, it's either an inspired bit of stunt-casting or simply an example of the cunning corporate synergy you'd expect from the bozos responsible for this mess, given the fact that both shows now shoot on the same lot. In other words, they're poaching cast members to cut down on audition costs. Expect Ensign Maybelline to appear week as a leather-clad go-go boy Mute Demon. Anyway, Daniels, here playing a portrait studio photographer, has just finished positioning the icy sociopath on a grey fabric block in front of the latter's massive Dolt of father, and now retreats behind his camera while mumbling something about the Psycho looking "like a little angel." Yeah, in the world where little angels habitually impale their prettier younger brothers to the walls of the house with carving knives, when they're not setting out bear traps for the neighbors' pets. Speaking of prettier younger brothers, Piper's seated to the Psycho's right, and I believe that thing she's rather delicately balancing upon her lap is...yep, it's a chunk of rapidly decaying, rough-hewn whale blubber that's been sculpted into the approximate shape of her younger son, then squeezed into an infant's clothing for effect. Seriously, people. Recast! Immediately! All members of the family, incidentally, sport various combinations of black and shades of blue for the portrait, the only exception being of course the Psycho, whose uncomfortable bowtie is a bloody, murderous red. More proof that Big Gay Chris died in vain, I suppose.

Anyway, Piper gets an earful of the angel comparison and, glancing dismissively at the current backdrop of clouds and such, is all, "Yeah, now that you mention it? Not so big on the whole Up There look. Maybe we should try the brown again." Daniels leaps to pull down the requested background as the Dolt rolls his eyes around and sighs. "Okay, let's do this!" Daniels perks, but Piper's changed her mind again in favor of "the Moroccan one." The Dolt leans in to whisper, "Piper. Other people are waiting." Piper, as is her wont, explodes. "Well, I've been waiting for years!" she shrews back at the Dolt as Daniels shifts around uncomfortably from foot to foot. "Ever since I [expelled the dead-eyed Psycho from my uterus]," she hisses, "I've wanted a family portrait, and it was always one thing or another with him going...you know what, and you going bonkers." The Dolt tosses an uneasy smile in Daniels's direction as Piper finishes, "Now that I have everyone here, I'm not going to be pressured into making any hasty decisions!" Blubbery Gay Chris -- whose sky-blue shirt-and-sweater combo precisely matches his mother's silk blouse, like, fag! -- has by this point lolled his tongue out of his mouth as if to say, "This neurotic wench and her incessant bitchery have EATEN MY BRAIN!" After some more back-and-forth between the bickering divorcs, swishy Crewman Daniels is all, "Okay, pretty people! Let's do this!" You know, according to his IMDb entry, Matt Winston is married. To a lady. With two kids. I find that...difficult to believe. Anyway, just as Daniels snaps the camera's shutter, activating the strobes, I'm Not Candy, Uniqua, and that other Avatar we haven't seen in nearly a month flare into -- wait a minute. Is that Phoebe's office? It is! They're totally using All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me's set for this sequence. God, this show is cheap. Anyway, the Avatars flare in and halt all time, everywhere, just as the strobes go off. The Dolt squints through the glare to glance over at them before uneasily edging himself out of his pose, leaving the ex-wife and his sorely neglected sons frozen in position. The Psycho looks like he flays little kitties for the hell of it, Blubbery Gay Chris looks like he's suffered several debilitating strokes in the last week, and Piper looks like the sort of suburban housewife who keeps herself heavily medicated to avoid dealing with points A and B. Heh.

"This isn't a really good time," the Dolt opens, stating the obvious. Uniqua assures him they wouldn't have interrupted had the current situation not warranted so drastic an intrusion. "Someone has information that could bring the sisters to us," she continues, her eyes unnaturally bright, "to help them see the beauty of our way." "She's under attack by demons," I'm Not Candy adds. "You must save her and bring her home so she can share what she knows." The Dolt's all, "Okay! No problem! I'll get on that right away! And you just let me know when I should whack off my nuts, where I should pick up a pair of those fun black Nikes for the space ship, and how much cyanide I should dump into the Kool-Aid, okay, guys? You're the best!" Or maybe he says nothing of the sort and simply repositions himself by his family. Once he's done so, the other Avatars flare out, and time resumes. The second the photographer's reactivated strobes dim, the Dolt bends to inform Piper he's got to motor, pronto. Piper leaps to her feet to get loud, but the Dolt just pushes past her to the door, calling over his shoulder, "You have keys to the car, right?" Piper fumes.

Down in a section of Hell liberally strewn with the skeletal remains of the damned, a demon hurls a Flaming Ball Of Death at a woman who flies across a boulder to cower in the dirt on the other side. The first FBOD plows into the rock, but the demon instantly conjures another while sneering something about its intended recipient's traitorous nature as his friends cheer him on. The Dolt orbs in to interrupt the vanquishing party, however, and immediately sporks one of the demons, who promptly howls and wails and blazes his merry way down to The Waste Land. The others immediately whirl about to fling FBODs at the Dolt's gigantic and scary gargoyle head -- and my God, that's an easy target -- but the Dolt tosses up some sort of shimmery deflection shield that causes the FBODs to ricochet and zoom back to their various points of origin, obliterating all but one of the remaining demons, who smokes out before the Dolt can unleash another massive spray of sporking electricity. The Dolt hustles to the far end of the chamber to discover that the imperiled woman is actually Cordelia Chase. "This can't be right," he frowns as he stoops to gather her up in his arms, and Brian Krause needs to hit the gym a little more often, because he's really struggling to hoist tiny Cordelia off the ground here. Heh. Cordelia flings her arms around his neck, tosses her stringy mane of hair around, and flirtatiously croons, "My hero!" D'oh! The flustered Dolt purses his monkey lips and harrumphs his way into the opening credits.

Dammit! I hate it when they skip the opening travelogue! Without it, how am I ever to know which lame, flavor-of-the-week, alt-crap ovaryfest I should ignore this month? We fade up immediately on the nighttime Manor facade as the shrieking racket accompanying the Dolt's orb cloud wakes up every single damn person in the neighborhood, before we dart inside to the nonexistent attic in time to watch him materialize on the carpet with Cordelia still in his arms. Cordelia, rubbing her forehead and complaining of "a lump that won't quit from one of those little snips," wonders if the Dolt's certain he can't heal demons. "Don't push it," the Dolt warns while unbuttoning his suit jacket. "I saved your life." "Only because the stuffed shirts made you," Cordelia snorts. The Dolt wonders why Cordelia didn't just squiggle away from the attacking horde as he crosses to toss his jacket on a chair, loosen his tie, and unbutton his cuffs. Slow down, you frisky fella. You turn this into a striptease, and I'll be forced to leap into the television set and shoot you in the head. Cordelia, ignoring me, pertly retorts something about not wanting to miss his grand entrance, or something, and reveals she'd like to strike a deal with the Dolt's bosses. She also reveals she's under the impression the ever-useless Elders sent him, and the Dolt takes great pains not to disabuse her of this notion, for various sneaky and shifty-eyed reasons of which we are all well aware. They banter about their shared non-history as the Dolt rolls up his sleeves and she drops her hooded cloak to the floor to reveal that saucy little purple velvet harem number she sported in her last two appearances.

Changing the subject, Cordelia flips out a set of spirit fingers to trill brightly and sarcastically, "So is this where it all happens?" before catching sight of the purportedly fabled Book of Shadows. "Oh, my God!" she gasps, shooting the Dolt a delighted grin. She darts across the room to take a look at the thing, but the Dolt blocks her path, demanding to know why he was sent to save her. She's clearly puzzled that the ever-useless Elders neglected to pass that rather vital bit information along before sending him on the assignment, which only goes to show how little she knows of them and their eternally dimwitted ways. She's also more than a bit intrigued that the Dolt's become so "hard to read" since last they met but, she promises, she'll enjoy the challenge of breaking through his new shell, if you know what she means, and I think you do. Cordelia sets all that aside for the moment, though, in favor of admitting of her demonic colleagues, "I'm selling them out for bigger and better things." "And they're miffed!" she adds, galled. "Not that they wouldn't do the same to me in a New York minute." The Dolt hmmms at this and heads towards the stairs to fill Piper in on the current situation. "The sisters find you up here," he adds casually, "they're gonna kill ya." "Actually, they won't!" she perks, skittering along after him with a grin. "I've seen my death? No babes involved." He tosses up his hands to halt her and orders her to remain in the nonexistent room, shutting the door behind him. Cordelia immediately bounces over to the Book for a little abuse, but the Book instantly flares and snaps shut before flying through the air of its own accord and slamming to the floor on the far side of the room. "Damn!" Cordelia pouts.

Down in the kitchen, we get an over-the-souffl, through-the-oven shot of Piper warning the Dolt not to make any loud noises before she straightens herself up and proceeds to berate him shrilly for his recent lapses in behavior. As she liberally peppers her tirade with the word "normal," I'll not be paying much attention to whatever it is that's coming out of her mouth at the moment. The Dolt splutters apologies and excuses, but Piper, not listening, peevishly crosses to retrieve the family portrait. She flips it around to shove it into his face, and we note that the Avatar's intervention has reduced the Dolt to a blur in the finished image. No, I'm not going to wonder how she already received a huge, professionally framed copy of the print when they just sat for the fucking thing, like, twenty minutes ago, because this show sucks, and I want to die. "But you know?" Piper passive-aggressively eyebrows. "I'm gonna hang it anyway. What the heck?" With that, she and the improbable portrait vanish into the dining room.

"I couldn't say no!" the Dolt protests, racing along after her. "It was important!" Piper pedebitches that Raige's "dinner date with Kyle" is of equal importance as she mounts the stairs to replace one of the old family portraits on the wall with the new photograph. She wants the Dolt to bathe the kids while she -- get this -- finishes cooking dinner for Raige and Secretly INSANE Brody. I think your stigmata are now visible from space, Piper. You martyr. The Dolt finally drops the Cordelia bomb, adding that the ever-useless Elders would be most grateful if the Glamorous Ladies would open the Manor to the imperiled demon for the day or so. Piper, barely maintaining her composure at the news, shouts, "The answer is absolutely not, because this is how things spiral out of control!" She plows past him back towards the kitchen as the Dolt bumbles around helplessly on the landing.

Meanwhile, up in the main bathroom, Raige prepares for her date with an assist from the Feebs. She's squeezed herself into a sleeveless maroon cocktail gown with garish rhinestone accents at the neck that Phoebe quite rightly insists is inappropriate for an evening at home. Oh, dear God. Did I just agree with Phoebe on what constitutes appropriate evening wear? Hell! I am in Hell! "He's gonna walk in the door and want to throw you on the floor," Phoebe protests. Raige duhs that that's the whole idea, as she's horny and wants her some more of that bulge Secretly INSANE Brody's been packing in his pants. Raige crosses to the vanity to touch up her makeup as the two natter endlessly about Secretly INSANE Brody and his obsession with the Avatars and the chemistry he has with Raige and wah before Phoebe finally assures Raige, "This is gonna work out, because it's too good for it not to." It could happen. Not. Mark my words: Secretly INSANE Brody's going end up a mojo-scorched corpse just in time for Kerr Smith's nine-episode contract to expire. Raige and Phoebe smile at each other in the mirror before spinning out into the upper hall, with Phoebe still trying to get Raige to change into something a little more casual. "Enough with the green shirt!" Raige good-naturedly grunts. "You're right," a suddenly appearing Cordelia smiles. "He'll love what you have on." "Demon!" Phoebe panics, flapping her hands around in the air while cringing behind Raige. "No active power! Do something!" Now I'm convinced I'm typing this from amongst the damned, because that was sort of amusing. In any event, Raige, thinking as fast as her puny brain will allow, summons a mirror from the far end of the hall with her orbing telekinesis and sends it flying down the corridor towards Cordelia's head. Nice work by the effects department, by the way, in superimposing Charisma Carpenter's rapidly growing face on the mirror's surface as it sails ever closer to her during this sequence. Cordelia angles her torso back in the slightest of dodges that leaves the mirror shattered on the floorboards beyond. "Is that my bad luck or yours?" she casually snides as she saunters over to examine the shards of glass. Raige makes to brain Cordelia with a potted plant, but Cordelia scampers towards the main stairs, bellowing, "[Dolt]! A little help, please!" This unexpected mention of the Dolt's name grinds Phoebe and Raige to a befuddled halt. Granted, it doesn't take much at all to reduce these two Einsteins to quivering piles of befuddled perplexity, but still. "Did she just call for [the Dolt]?" Phoebe squints incredulously. Raige, no doubt convinced her appointment with Secretly INSANE Brody's bulge will have to be cancelled, silently yet furiously simmers at her sister's side for a moment before they both race towards the stairs as the camera cuts down to...

Meanwhile, Cordelia's begun twirling around on the lawn with her arms outstretched, and it was at this point I knew we were at a funny farm, because none of the white-uniformed orderlies passing through the courtyard take any notice of her odd behavior. Phoebe, however, bustles over to put a stop to it. She hurries Cordelia to a door marked "Hawkbrook Mental Health Facility" while reminding her that if they don't return to the Manor quickly, the Dolt's going to "flip." The ladies plus the Doormat enter the snake pit, ambling past various muttering, drooling lunatics, and there's some chatter about all the bad that comes with being human before Cordelia casually indicates a closed door and notes, "I'd try that one." Phoebe and the Doormat enter to find an unoccupied office. "There's more," Cordelia promises, indicating another shut door on the far side of the room. The Doormat picks his way over and eases said door open slowly to reveal a pallid, wasted-looking Pepper Anderson unconscious on a bed. "I told you Brody did something to her," he growls as Phoebe breathes, "Oh, my God," and whips out her cell to phone Raige. "Please pick up the phone," Phoebe pleads. Cordelia eyes the room evenly enough, but there's a touch of sadness in her eyes. Despite the fact she's incapable of human emotion. Stupid show.

Over at Straight Estates, Raige has better things to do than answer the quietly vibrating phone that spins unnoticed on the coffee table to Brody's watch in the foreground of the shot. Namely, Brody himself. Yes, in the extremely out-of-focus background of this image, Raige is riding Secretly INSANE Brody like a goddamned jockey rounding the final curve at Pimlico with an uneasy hold on first place. She's also clearly fondling her own breasts, save for the bit near the very end where he reaches up to honk one of them for her. We endure a few of her breathy moans before we're struck blind by the utter inappropriateness and abject horror of it all. Or maybe we've just tumbled into the commercial break.

Manor. Aftermath. No, not the aftermath of Raige Matthews, Bulge Jockey. The other aftermath. Phoebe and Cordelia chase the Dolt down the main stairs, past the blasted Portrait Of Shrill Contention that Piper obstinately rehung on the wall at some unseen point and at which the Dolt throws the briefest and most hilarious of double-takes. Hee. Very fun moment. Phoebe's frantically trying to convince the Dolt that they fetch Raige from Straight Estates "before Kyle puts her in a coma, too." The Dolt instead chides Phoebe for taking Cordelia out of the house as he arrives at the potion-laden dining room table. Phoebe retorts, "Well, I needed to find out if [Raige] was dating a madman and I did and she is, so please, [Dolt], you need to go get her." The Dolt snorts something about Cordelia's inherent untrustworthiness, leading to a threat from Cordelia herself to expose the Dolt's own "dirty little secret." Oh, ew, Cordelia. Don't go there. Cordelia and the Dolt stare each other down for a bit before the Dolt finally caves and agrees to fetch Piper from Not!warts so they can go after Raige together. After the Dolt orbs out, Phoebe and Cordelia -- now, apparently, best gal pals, or something -- rather easily chat with each other about the true nature of the Avatars, with Phoebe asking a lot of questions Cordelia refuses to answer until she at last acquires "the ability to feel." Phoebe, gathering the various potions in a pouch, proposes she and Cordelia dish about Hell's more prominent dark demonic forces instead.