Previously on Charmed, Pepper Anderson, The Best Policewoman In The History Of Forever, wanted the Manor Morons real bad but got an adolescent Kerr Smith instead, which pretty much sucked for her when she ended up strapped to a bed in an asylum in the throes of a Bulge-induced coma. At some later point, Secretly INSANE Brody died in the middle of The Menopause, and they would have us believe by this sequence that it was his death alone and not the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of people worldwide that led the Dolt to break with the Avatars and send the Glamorous Ladies in search of hot Zankou. Because this show sucks. In any event, the gals forced the Avatars to "put the world back," and Raige ended the last episode by learning that the ever-useless Elders had promoted still-dead Brody to Whitelighter.
Currently on Charmed, a harried, frazzled, and half-dressed Piper berates her bar manager Rex from the Manor kitchen via the cordless while lugging around the crabby chunk of mutant whale blubber that's masquerading as Tiny Gay Chris. The dead-eyed Psycho, meanwhile, lurks in his high chair, gnawing ominously on a sippy cup while shooting the occasional death glare at what will eventually become his far prettier younger brother. Seems Rex is insisting on taking Valentine's night off so he can propose to his girlfriend, and Piper, predictably, is none too pleased. As Phoebe jiggles into the room with that morning's edition of All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me, Piper snottily slams the cordless down on the center island and sneers, "I hope she says no." Charming. Then again, she's being a peevish biznatch to a character we've seen, like, once, so I don't really care. As is her wont, Phoebe ignores everything that's already going on in this scene to make it All About Her. She flips the paper onto the island to the phone and jabs at one of the front-page articles with her index finger. "This is the new face of evil!" she claims as we get a look at the smarmy-looking corporate type whose mug graces the lower fourth of the page under the headline "Normand Admits to Gouging Customers." "His name is John Normand," Phoebe breathlessly continues, "and he owns the phone company and he's been stealing from us for months!" And...that makes absolutely no sense at all, because no one person owns the phone company. Shut up, Phoebe. Of course, this show being what it is -- crap, for those of you either just joining us or extremely slow on the uptake -- you'll find that if you actually freeze the frame on the article and read the first couple of paragraphs, Phoebe's claims against this guy make a little more sense. Not much more, but it's information we receive nowhere else this evening, so here goes: Basically, the guy actually runs some sort of cellular service in the Bay Area and has been exploiting a loophole in the state's communications laws to cut off service to various customers with no warning and little justification. He's then been charging unusually high fees to restore that service, and while the paper notes that none of this is technically illegal, it is at best "unethical." Not to mention shitty, shitty business practice, but this plot point's coming from absolutely nowhere to exist for precisely forty-three minutes and twenty seconds, after which it will disappear entirely, never to be heard of again, so who really gives a rat's ass?
Piper sure as hell doesn't, apparently, for she pretty much ignores Phoebe's blithering in favor of dumping the blubber wad on a changing table and wrestling with its diaper while Phoebe goes on and on and on and on about the corporate contrivance established to inject a bit of peril into Billy Zane's soon-to-be-introduced storyline this evening. Um. Ooops! Spoiler! Phoebe, by the way, is sporting nothing more than a flimsy, low-cut pink satin camisole that I'm certain she'll be treating as actual daywear for the remainder of the episode, and the NIPPLES are rather distractingly pointing in two different directions. The ladies natter about the failed experiment with Utopia for a bit before indulging in an unfunny bit involving the massive load Tiny Gay Chris has dropped in his pants. Once this is done, Piper hauls the blubber wad over to a bassinet near the kitchen table and wonders if Phoebe could watch the kids that evening, as she and the Dolt will have to deal with the nightclub in her manager's absence. Phoebe -- AGAIN -- makes this All About Her by glumming, "Sure. Of course. I mean, it's not like anyone's proposing to me, or like anyone's sending me flowers or reciting me poetry. So much for the little girl I saw in my vision." Ack. Arrgh. Nrrrfffugh. First of all, Phoebe, you were guaranteed that little girl only if you followed through on the whole Utopia thing, and since you didn't, that little girl has gone the way of annoying Melinda, Piper's phantom child from the second season. Secondly, that little girl you saw in your vision was a mentally defective troll, so no big loss. And finally, SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU STUPID, SELF-CENTERED HAG.
GAH! ANY-way, the two babble out some expository nonsense about Phoebe's love troubles and their link or lack thereof to the late Avatar plot, Piper's fears about the Dolt's future now that the ever-useless Elders are certain to punish him for his role in said late Avatar plot, and Secretly INSANE Brody. "Where's [Raige] anyway?" Phoebe wonders. "I'm worried about her." Liar. "[Not!warts]," Piper replies, "where else?"
And look at that. As a few plaintive strings assault the soundtrack, we zing on over to the Not!warts Not-So-Great Hall, where Raige and the delightful Ann Cusack are reviewing applications for the recently vacated literature professor's position. Ann instantly rejects one from a Muse, as the Muse "will inspire them to write novels instead of reading them." Dim Raige should have realized this herself, of course, but didn't, because she's an idiot, which is why she never should have been named headmistress in the first place, but that's not important. What is important is that Liberace clawed his way out of his grave in Los Angeles and staggered zombie-like up the Interstate to San Francisco, where he found some way to dodge through Not!warts's magical protections just so he could vomit all over Raige's tits. Seriously. Beneath her black robe, Raige is wearing some tacky piece of BeDazzlered yellow garbage with so many gold sequins sprayed across the front of the thing that Bob Mackie would take one look at it and stroke out. Shut up, Raige's blouse. Now where was I? Oh, yeah. Long story short, Ann Cusack wants to be promoted out of the library to take over the literature class, and we find out that the position's actually been vacant since that stroppy wall-eyed midget ate several rounds of lead way back in November, and I can't worry about that particular bit of stupidity because a far larger one roars into the frame to take its place. No, I'm not talking about Billy Zane. Yet.
As the delightful Ann Cusack pleads her case, she suddenly glows and vanishes, only to reappear behind a bit of furniture on the far side of the room. As she staggers unsteadily to her feet from the psychic effort her trick evidently required, she explains that Mrs. Winterbourne "taught" the delightful Ann Cusack the power of astral projection before the former left the school on sabbatical, and yes, astral projection had previously been presented as something one is either born with or matures into, and no, it makes no sense that it is now a skill anyone with sufficient motivation can master, and yes, I hate this stupid, evil show because it sucks major amounts of ass, but let's keep the recap moving, shall we? "Trust me," a rather wobbly Ann Cusack assures Raige, "I am the best candidate for this job." And now Billy Zane roars into the frame. On a motorcycle, which leaps through a flash of distorted white light down the hall a bit to skid across the floor before slamming into and destroying a large table. "That's gonna leave a mark," Billy Zane notes a bit absently as Raige and Ann Cusack, who had leapt out of the way, warily approach him. "Who are you?" Ann demands, wielding a silver candlestick like a club. Heh. "I'm the new teacher!" Billy Zane grins. Raige and the delightful Ann Cusack wrinkle their noses in confusion as Billy Zane runs his fingers through his wildly unkempt wig before smirking his way into the opening credits.
The camera fades up on Billy Zane's reflection in one of the motorcycle's side mirrors before whipping around to take in Ann and Raige as Ann howls something about Billy Zane expecting a position at Not!warts after nearly killing them with his bike. "If I wanted to teach parallel parking, you might have a point," he lobs back at her mildly enough, "but I'm here for the literature post." I might as well admit this now: I've always liked Billy Zane, what with that sly mix of seeming sleepy-eyed obliviousness and quick, off-kilter, campy, occasionally dangerous wit he brings to just about every role I've ever seen him play -- and yes, I deliberately skipped The Phantom to maintain this illusion, so leave me the hell alone -- so you won't be hearing too much bitching about his performance from me over the couple of episodes, no matter how ludicrous his plot points become. And I'm certain every single one of those plot points is going to be completely asinine, if tonight's events are anything to go by. Anyway, Billy Zane casually snaps his fingers, and his résumé flares into his hand. He finally rises from the bike to pass it to Raige, and we learn that the newcomer is "Drake," which early spoiler scripts indicated would be Brody's first name before they switched it to Kyle. Just a bit of trivia for those of you interested in such things, which I pray to God is, like, none of you, because no one should be wasting brain space on that kind of trash. Except for, apparently, me. Sigh.
Raige gently suggests he should have simply mailed the thing in, so as not to waste his time. Drake assures her he never wastes his time, and hammily quotes Shakespeare to explain why: "For life is but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more." "It is a tale told by an idiot," Ann snidely continues for him, now openly competing with him for the teaching position and being hysterically bitchy about it, "full of sound and fury, signifying..." "Nothing!" Drake finishes, stealing Raige's focus away from Ann once more while shooting a subtle glare at the latter. This instant rivalry of theirs is amusing me far more than it should be. Drake exposits that he's studied at Julliard and performed on Broadway while penning a memoir he intends to finish on his "deathbed." "I look forward to reading that," Ann snarks. Heh. Raige, meanwhile, has been scanning the piece of paper, and wonders, "Why aren't any of these credits more than a year long," because she's a fucking moron, and meant, I'm sure, to say "a year old." "Simple, really," Drake replies. "You see, before that I was a demon." Ann predictably freaks as Drake hastily assures them that he's now all man. Though he "hate[s] exposition" -- a bit of metacommentary that was very funny the first time they did it and hasn't been remotely funny since -- he explains that "fifty weeks ago," he "made a deal with a sorcerer" who made him human. The "minor stipulations" to the deal include the fact that Drake got to keep his powers, though if he uses them in an "offensive manner," those powers will transfer to the sorcerer himself, and Drake will "burn for all eternity." Drake seems as bored babbling out all of these details as I am with transcribing them, and eventually futzes distractedly with something on his bike as he winds down. Snerk. "What are you waiting for?" Ann hisses at Raige as his attention drifts. "Vanquish him!" Drake makes noises of protest at this and insists that he simply wants to atone for his demon days, claiming that if they examine his record, they'll find he has little to hide about his past. At this, Ann stomps off in a huff, intent on proving Drake's still dangerous and well worthy of a one-way ticket to The Waste Land, or wherever. As she vanishes, Drake again rises from his bike and gets a little flirty with Raige. Raige is all, "Back off, buddy. I don't know what to make of you." "Why don't we consult the Book of Shadows?" he twinkles before waving his riding goggles around in her face and smiling, "Wanna ride?" I think that was supposed to be dirty. Actually, given the fact that the bulge in his jeans is nearly as big as Recently Revived Brody's, I'm certain that was supposed to be dirty. Ew. Keep it in your pants, Zane.
Cut to Piper's hands slapping a torn paper heart onto a pillar at P3. "!" she snaps at the Dolt, who murmurs, "Um. That one's ripped." "So?" Piper snorts, impatient. "The crowd will be, too." True, that, but that's not the point. No, the point seems to be that Piper's displacing her Issues Of The Week onto the Valentine's holiday, and since I care not at all about her Issues or Valentine's Day, I'll be skimming through the scene that follows. Basically, the Dolt's rather patiently awaiting what is certain to be a harsh punishment from the other ever-useless Elders for his role in the late experiment with Utopia. This, naturally, enrages Piper, who blames the other ever-useless Elders for virtually forcing the Dolt into the Avatar's collective. "They drove you to it," she argues, "with Gideon and what he did to [Big Gay] Chris and what he tried to do to [the Psycho]." So nice of you to acknowledge what Gideon did to my poor, pretty husband, Mother Halliwell. Pity it took you fourteen goddamned episodes to do so. Thoughtless shrew. "I don't think they're gonna see it that way," the Dolt breathes. "Well, you'd better make them see it that way," Piper grits, "or else this may be the last Valentine's Day we spend together." With that, she snatches up some more decorations from the bar and storms out of the frame. As the Dolt turns to watch her go, the screen flashes white and we're...
...thrown into Hell, and boring! Tonight's guest dark demonic force is Sebastian Roché, and he's weaselly and he's unattractive and he's French and I hate him, so let's get through this as quickly as possible, okay? Roché's playing the sorcerer who brokered the deal with Drake, and he's furious that Drake's made it through the past fifty weeks without using his powers against an innocent. Roché, you see, needs Drake's powers to overthrow Hot Zankou and claim the throne of Hell for himself, so we all know Roché's going to be dead by the end of the evening, and all of this is pointless, and God! Will you shut up, you prick? And get a haircut while you're at it. By the way, he's been screaming all of this at some demonic bounty hunter we never see again after this interlude, and that's it: I'm skipping ahead to the point where some henchdemons manhandle the delightful Ann Cusack into the chamber. Seems she journeyed to Hell to do a little research on Drake and got herself caught. When she claims not to know anything about the ex-demon, Roché whips out a dagger and presses it against her throat, urging her to "think harder" about the whole thing. Ann's eyes widen in panic as the screen flares white again, and we find ourselves...
...up at the Manor, where Phoebe's on the cordless, bitching to some never-heard customer service agent about her phone bill while Tiny Gay Chris squirms in his product-placed hand-me-down playpen on the sun porch. The bemulleted Psycho, meanwhile, silently hovers over the wicker coffee table in the background, slowly twisting his remaining Fisher-Price playthings into yet another deadly implement with which he will torture his younger, eventually prettier brother. Sigh. Poor Chris. Phoebe's call waiting goes off, so she switches over to find Detective Doormat on the other line. He's phoning to inform the Manor Morons that Pepper Anderson, The Best Policewoman In The History Of Forever, has unexpectedly resurfaced and is back at Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World to resume her duties. Secretly INSANE Brody, you see, visited the Doormat the evening with news that he'd roused Pepper Anderson from her coma. "Didn't you say he died?" growls the Doormat. "Yeah, well I never said it stuck," Phoebe blithely goofs, before explaining the whole Whitelighter promotion thing to the Doormat. The Doormat reveals that Brody smacked Pepper Anderson up with some of that special Whitelightery fairy dust, so she doesn't remember anything that happened. For the last year, apparently, as she retains no knowledge of the Halliwells whatsoever. Phoebe quickly determines that as long as they avoid "triggering" Pepper Anderson's memory, they should be fine. Yeah, this is going to work out well for them. Not. Especially because the still-reluctant-to-collaborate Doormat learns he must keep Pepper Anderson as far away from the Glamorous Ladies as he can, as any contact at all might result in Pepper regaining her senses and thus re-embarking on her one-woman crusade against the sisters. Phoebe curtly cuts the call short when Raige bellows for her from upstairs, leaving the Doormat to wail her name as Pepper Anderson quietly approaches his desk. Real smooth, Doormat. Real fucking smooth. "Phoebe," Pepper lightly puzzles with a slight arch of her brow. "Do I know her?" The Doormat, splattering the worst poker face in the history of the planet across his face, is all, "Dunno, do you?" Pepper Anderson eyes him for a bit before thoughtfully gazing into the middle distance, her mouth twisted into a small frown of bewilderment. You know, she seems awfully collected for a woman who woke up this morning with no memory of the last twelve months. I wonder how she's coping with it all. Oh, who am I trying to kid? I couldn't give a rat's ass about Pepper Anderson.
Up in the nonexistent attic, Raige flips past the double entry for Shakti and Shiva in the Book of Shadows, and lands on a page devoted to "Mercury Demons," which is evidently Drake's Underworld clan. Because I like to be thorough, I'll transcribe the entry here:
Millennia ago these demons worked in the service of Mercury, the self proclaimed Roman God of thievery. In modern times, they've evolved into a powerful clan of upper level Demons. Hatched from eggs that incubate in the eternal flames of Some Completely Illegible Location Down In Hell, these Demons have the power to fire thermal blasts that can take down lesser demons in one shot. Though this power makes them formidable foes, they can be vanquished with the Power of Three.
All of that is [sic], by the way, though that "self proclaimed Roman God" bit is a lovely callback to what Big Gay Chris told his mother about Greek and Roman mythology in the fifth-season finale. Also, Billy Zane hatched from an egg. Snerk. Sort of explains the way he looks, doesn't it? In any event, Zane improbably continues to amuse me through the blather that follows -- during which he and Raige basically repeat everything I've typed in the paragraph above -- especially when he plants a finger on the Power of Three citation at the end of the entry. Raige, you see, is flabbergasted that he's able to touch the Book, and Drake's reaction? Is first to mock her hushed, disbelieving tone with one of his own as he murmurs, "Oh, my God! So I did!" then to start drumming his fingertips and wiping his hands all over the open pages before hammering at the thing with his elbows while sing-songing, "I guess that means I'm good!" Hee. "Stop it!" Raige snarls, batting his hands away. As Raige snorts that the Book's been tricked before, he instantly adopts an expression of faux-wounded innocence, but there's still a mischievous gleam in his eye. He's way too good for this show. Anyway, there follows a brief recitation of the personal losses Raige incurred the last time the Book was fooled into believing a demon's supposed innocence, but I totally wasn't paying attention because I was too busy glowering at the cap sleeves on Raige's tacky, BeDazzlered blouse. Drake eventually determines that Raige's bad past experiences have left her "indecisive." Raige, of course, disputes this before basically confirming it by waffling all over the goddamned room about one fucking thing or another. Drake kindly notes that our mistakes are what make us human. Unfortunately, this point is blown to pieces by the arrival of the Feebs, who proves through her very existence that some mistakes are actually quite monstrous. Introductions are made, and Phoebe is shocked and appalled to discover that Raige has brought an ex-demon into the Manor. Yeah, look who's talking. Bitch.
Entertainingly enough, Drake makes much the same point. "I thought you guys had lots of experience with demons who were human," he mutters. "You married one, didn't you?" "Yes, and divorced," Phoebe snaps back. "How did you know that?" Well, maybe he found out about it when you were crowned Queen Of All Evil in the darkest pit of Hell during a black ceremony that featured human sacrifice, you stupid cow. God, I hate this show. Drake's reply is far more mild than mine, however, as he simply grins, "You know. Gossip around the office cauldron." "Anyway," he sighs, changing the topic, "you girls don't understand what it's like to be judged simply by the way you were born." With that, he snaps his fingers, and for some idiotic reason morphs into Cyrano de Bergerac, complete with nose. No, seriously. No. Seriously. Billy Zane blurts out a few of Cyrano's lines about his "vile protuberance" in an exaggerated French accent as Phoebe goofs and giggles and floods her panties, because it's Valentine's Day and she's dateless and he just made a dick joke. Or something like that. HATE. Raige mumbles something about how many people Drake's killed over his long demonic life, and he immediately takes umbrage, snapping himself back into his regular clothing and form as he vows, "I never killed anyone, except demons. Killed plenty of them." "Join the club," Phoebe groans, once again making it All About Her. "Sucks, doesn't it?" You suck. Shut up, Phoebe. Raige calls Drake on what she believes to be an outrageous lie, but he insists that -- get this -- he's nurtured "from the day [he] was hatched" a love of literature and the human emotions it captures, and so could never bring himself to off anybody. "I always found a way around doing that," he shrugs. Phoebe's smitten. Shut up some more, Phoebe. Raige remains uncertain, however, and orbs off to consult Piper after ordering Drake to fill Phoebe in on the rest of his backstory himself. Once Raige has disappeared through the ceiling, Drake smiles and opens with, "So you like Gene Kelly movies?" Phoebe, a bit taken aback but basking in the attention, replies, "Love 'em. Why?" Drake simply smiles some more. Hmmm. I wonder what he could possibly have in mind? This should blow. Whatever the hell it is.
Meanwhile, atop the Golden Gate Bridge, the Dolt meditates or whatever as Elizabeth Dennehy orbs in with that asshole Elder from a few episodes ago. The two boys immediately whip their respective units out for a pissing contest, and I so do not care about this scene. Long story short, Elizabeth Dennehy warns the Dolt to "stay out of magical affairs." If he doesn't, he risks bringing down upon his head a punishment far more severe than the ones the ever-useless Elders already have planned for him. Or something like that. I'm reading a little too much into the dialogue, I think, but I do know this whole scene is just setting up something that won't happen for months, so again: Whatever. !
Back at the Manor, Phoebe descends the main stairs with a beaming, bemused smile on her face, for Drake's snapped himself into Gene Kelly's costume from the "Our Love Is Here To Stay" sequence along the Seine in An American In Paris and is currently jete-ing around the main hall in his penny loafers like the dancing fool he wishes he could be. "Lemme get this straight," Phoebe announces, making an unintentional funny, "you do musical theater as well?" Very few straight men do, Feebs, so you might not want to be zeroing in on this guy as a potential slampiece. As if to prove my point, Drake snaps his fingers again, and Phoebe's instantly transformed into Leslie Caron from the same scene -- stylish chignon, satin bow at her modest collar, white circle skirt, and all. If anyone but Billy Zane were playing Drake, I'd peg him as queer right now, but Zane's so insanely ambiguous about it all that I'll just assume these two will be knocking boots before February sweeps are over. Drake holds out his hand, and Phoebe sweeps down the remaining steps so the pair can sashay and soft-shoe their way through the ground floor for a bit before Drake finally wishes Phoebe a happy Valentine's Day. Phoebe, caught up in the moment, leans in for a kiss, but the bland, easy-listening fluff they're using in place of the correct Gershwin melody pulls that needle-dragging-off-the-album sound-effects shtick the second a suddenly appearing and off-screen Piper howls, "Get your paws off of her!"
Phoebe and Drake spin around to find a sickened and repulsed Piper glaring at them from the dining room. Heh. Raige, at her sister's side, is more pleasantly surprised, but shocked nonetheless. Phoebe immediately dissolves into a series of doofy giggles as she claims they "were just having fun." "With the demon?" Piper too-brightly chirps, advancing upon them with the Hands Of Discontent at the ready. "How many times have I told you not to play dress-up with the demons?" And look at how well she listens to you, Piper. Blow her up. Now. Piper ignores me as Drake again protests his innocence and wah, but the upshot of the exchange that follows is this: Piper's convinced Raige that hiring any demon, regardless of his current status, would not be in the best interests of the Not!warts student body. Phoebe reluctantly agrees. "This is all wrong," Drake scoffs. "The problem here isn't me -- it's you three. You've been shaken to the core by what's happened with the Avatars." Phoebe shoots him an "oh, no he di'int!" look as Drake continues, addressing Raige, "You've just lost faith in yourself." "And you," he adds, turning to Phoebe, "you've been disheartened by the fight." "And you?" he finishes, leveling his gaze on Piper. "You, sweetheart, are just plain mean." Hee. Piper, despite herself, releases a burst of laughter at this before warning him to watch himself, and Raige's accompanying snickering goes on for just a few seconds too long. Snert. Drake rails some more against closing down your heart, or something, before snapping his fingers again, transforming himself into Robin Hood, Phoebe into Maid Marian, and Piper and Raige into two of the Merry Men. No, it makes no sense. None whatsoever. At all. But Billy Zane's so fucking exuberant about the overwhelming cheesiness of it all, we'll just have to go with it, I suppose. Raige, supremely annoyed, vows to hire him just so she can fire him. "Do we look merry to you?" an equally irritated Piper snorts. Drake, rapidly talking around them, babbles something supposedly relevant about Robin Hood's own struggles, but the logic of his argument is as nonexistent as the stupid Manor attic, so whatever. Phoebe, in a truly hideous long auburn wig, falls for it all anyway and coos at Drake for a bit before receiving a death glare from Piper. "You better change us back," Phoebe suggests, instantly dropping her schmoop. Drake reluctantly snaps his fingers, and Piper calls for a processing summit in the kitchen the instant she's back in her normal clothes.
As the ladies round the corner and disappear into the other room, Roché squiggles silently into the hall behind Drake, who's still dressed as Robin Hood. "I thought they'd never leave," Roché sneers as he stalks around Drake in a circle. The camera pulls an irritatingly shuddery spin around Drake's look of surprise and dismay before cutting over to the kitchen for a brief and unnecessary exchange amongst the gals. Back in the main hall, Roché smarms something instantly forgettable before the camera cuts again to the kitchen, where Piper accuses Raige of waffling just as the sounds of demonic hijinks reach their ears. Roché's slammed Drake through a side table and intones the following as Drake glows red:
Darkness within cannot be undone:
Embrace your true self...
Unfortunately for him, Piper charges into the hall at this point to unleash her Hands Of Discontent, so Roché never gets to complete the spell. And given where he stopped in the recitation of the thing, you all understand the horror that's to come, right? Good. Roché, in any event, flies backwards through the air from the mojo blast until he smashes against the far wall and drops to the floor. "Dammit!" he seethes before squiggling out. "Drake, are you okay?" Phoebe breathes as she races to the fallen ex-demon's side. "Drake?" he all-too-predictably replies. "Who's he? I'm Robin of Locksley!" "Of course you are!" Raige grumbles for me as she and Piper goggle and gape their collective way into the commercial break.
Manor hall. Drake's trying to shoot an arrow through an apple, and keeps missing. Sounds stupid, yes? Well, it is, but again, Billy Zane's making it far more entertaining than it has any right to be, as he will continue to do through the hijinks that follow. Piper warns him against shooting holes through her walls before joining her sisters on the sun porch, where Phoebe's been abusing the Book of Shadows in a futile search for a reversal that will restore Drake to his regular hammy self. The discussion that follows is intercut with shots of Drake demolishing various antiques, but I'll not be giving you the play-by-play. Just assume Billy Zane's being an enthusiastic dork about it all. In a leather babydoll dress. With Jami Gertz's 1980s Lost Boys mall hair. God, that wig he's wearing. Heh. Piper quickly reveals that she can't freeze the unwanted houseguest before correctly surmising that, as she blew up the sorcerer mid-spell, they're stuck with Robin Hood until they figure out a way to undo it all. Phoebe, meanwhile, has found a vanquish for the sorcerer, and Piper again correctly reasons that once they off Roché, the spell's effects will vanish. Unfortunately, they have no way of tracking him down. Raige announces her intention to orb off to Not!warts to enlist Ann Cusack's help in the matter. When questioned as to why she can't perform the necessary research herself, Raige shrugs and mugs her waffling way through her own tedious Issue Of The Week for a bit before finally, at long last, disappearing through the ceiling. Drake, meanwhile, has found Phoebe's phone bill, and immediately starts shouting about unfair taxation, and I don't have the patience for this bullshit, so let's cut to the chase: Drake conjures his motorcycle to confront "Prince John" Normand of the phone company, and Piper orders Phoebe along for the ride to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. This should work out well for everyone involved. After further conjuring a couple of helmets for Phoebe and himself -- his, of course, is of the medieval-armor variety -- Drake zooms out through the telekinetically opened front door, with Phoebe snatching her jacket from the entrance table as they pass. Piper, left alone, weeps bitter, bitter tears of irritation and despair. I hear ya, doll.
Oh, whatever. Downtown, Drake pulls the motorcycle up to a curb outside the phone company's payment center, from which a long line of disgruntled customers stretches all the way down the block. There's also a Brinks armored van present because, as you know, everybody still pays utility bills in person with cash. I hate this show. Drake natters dizzily about the money in the van belonging to the people and whatnot before he lopes into the center, where a big-boned gentleman calls him "Pocahontas." Heh. Unfortunately, that's the only amusing part of this entire stupid, pointless, dreadful, painfully unfunny scene, which involves Drake basically inciting some sort of populist riot against the evil forces of The Man. The Phone Company Man. Kill me now. After he leads all of these idiots out into the street, Drake commandeers the armored van and starts tossing fistfuls of cash at the crowd. Phoebe eventually manages to drag him away as police sirens wail in the distance. The camera pans up through morons scraping $20 bills off the pavement to reveal Roché lurking in the payment center's foyer. Drop fucking dead, Roché. And it was going so well. Well, for this show, at any rate.
Meanwhile, down in Hell, AP Ann Cusack is frantically trying to free Special Ed Ann from the shackles in which the latter has been placed. Roché suddenly appears behind AP Ann and forces her back into Special Ed Ann's body by poking a finger through her chest. Reconstituted Ann starts whining something about her wretched lot in life, but I was too distracted too listen to her because it becomes annoying obvious that she could simply slip her tiny hands out of the gigantic shackles if she weren't such a blockhead. And speaking of blockheads, Roché's never heard of Robin Hood. So he demands that Ann fill him in on the topic. Only he does so by pushing his scraggly, weaselly, beady-eyed, hideous face into hers, and she looks like she's about to hork into his mouth. Heh.
Manor kitchen. Piper, prepping the Roché vanquish on the center island, screams into the cordless at Phoebe, demanding the latter return to the Manor with Drake at once. Unfortunately, Phoebe's cell signal goes out, so Piper can only slam the phone down in frustration as the Dolt lopes into the room to offer tepid words of support and precious little else, as he's taking Elizabeth Dennehy's earlier warning seriously. After Piper gripes about his uselessness for a bit -- nice of you to finally realize it, hon -- Raige orbs in with news of Drake's latest exploits, which she picked up from the "satellite" TV they've got tucked away somewhere at Not!warts. Raige flicks on the handy little much-abused television set in the kitchen, and the three catch a brief report on Drake's armored van robbery. Piper frets about the disintegrating situation for a brief moment before shifting into action. She orders Raige to compose a vanquishing spell for Drake on the off-chance their Roché potion fails, and also send the Dolt into the other room to call Detective Doormat so someone on the police force knows what's really going on. Once the Dolt's disappeared into the front hall, Raige rambles on endlessly for about eighty-three minutes, and the only thing that came out of her mouth during that time that's worth mentioning is the fact that she hasn't seen the delightful Ann Cusack in a while.
Meanwhile, the Dolt's busy giving Detective Doormat the skinny on the current situation. The Doormat howls something about Drake possibly triggering Pepper Anderson's memory, so the Dolt instructs the Doormat to keep her as far away from the action as possible. No such luck, naturally, as Pepper sidles up with the shocking news that she's been reassigned as the Doormat's partner. "So, where are we going?" she grins. The much put-upon Doormat rolls his eyes and darts out of the frame. Shut up, Doormat. I hope the Dazzling Sheila divorces your boring ass.
Somewhere else, Phoebe and Drake approach an office building we last saw on fire, and there's more of the Robin Hood banter and snore. Finally, the Doormat pulls up to the curb, and he and Pepper Anderson leap from the car with guns drawn. "Freeze!" Pepper Anderson shouts. Drake responds by casually whipping an arrow from his quiver and sending it flying in Pepper's direction. Heh. It wings her left shoulder, barely grazing her flesh, and she drops down behind the car as the wimpy Doormat dives for cover. Tool. Phoebe skitters over to see if Pepper's okay, and finds herself slapped into a pair of handcuffs for her trouble. Drake, meanwhile, takes advantage of this distraction to scamper into the office building.
Upstairs, he kicks in John Normand's door, only to have the thing bounce back and slam in his face. Again, inappropriately amusing shtick here. Drake quickly recovers and bursts through the door to announce, "We meet at last!" "What is this?" Normand demands. "The end of your reign," Drake glints, aiming another arrow at Normand's head before vanishing into the commercial break. The soundtrack actually erupts with obnoxiously intrusive horns that blare, "Dun. Dun. DUN!," like, shut up, Obnoxiously Intrusive Horns. That's my fucking job. And was that really a DUN!-worthy moment? Hmmm? No. No, it wasn't. Not in the least, you pathetic excuse for a brass section. And so, what was a modestly entertaining episode the first time I saw it has begun to piss. Me. OFF.
Back from the break, Drake orders Normand to return all of the money he's stolen from the phone company's customers, and it's stupid, but at least the scene was short.
Out on the street, the still-cuffed Phoebe argues she can bring an end to all of this nonsense if Pepper Anderson would just give her the chance. Pepper's all, "Not in this lifetime, sweetie," but the Doormat pulls rank and orders his partner to let Phoebe go. The instant the cuffs are removed, Phoebe hustles across to enter the building. Once she's gone, Pepper Anderson distractedly muses, "You know, there's something oddly familiar about all this." The Doormat just grunts something about Pepper getting her wound dressed as he and the camera push past her, with the camera rising to track Phoebe as she disappears into the office building.
Back in the nonexistent attic, Piper and Raige kneel at a low table set with a circle of five candles as Raige reads the Roché-summoning spell she found at Not!warts.
Sorcerer of darkness, demon of fright:
I call you now into my sight.
Nothing happens. The two grumble about the lack of special effects for a bit -- with Piper warning Raige that this means they'll likely have to off Drake -- until AP Ann Cusack flares in by the front windows. She quickly fills the two Manor-bound gals in on the Roché situation -- while parenthetically noting that Drake's backstory checks out, by the way -- before flaring back out of there. "Looks like Drake just got a reprieve," Piper allows, to Raige's visible relief. As the two head towards the upper stairs, their image wavers and condenses to...
...reappear in Roché's crystal ball down in Hell, with Piper's final word echoing a bit through the chamber. During what follows, Roché basically lays out his entire dastardly plan for Reconstituted Ann, because he's an idiot who will be dead in less than ten minutes. Bring back Hot Zankou!
Meanwhile, Phoebe's finally arrived in Normand's office, and I'm officially over this subplot. Or A plot. Or co-plot, or whatever the fuck it is, because enough is enough already. Long story short, she admits that Drake, through his actions that afternoon, has successfully reinvigorated her desire to help others, and she begs him to allow her to help get him out of this situation. For some reason, this speechifying, combined with an entirely insincere apology from Normand, is enough to get Drake headed for the door. Unfortunately for all involved, the moment Drake and Phoebe turn their backs, Normand glows red as another of Roché's spells takes effect. Normand rises to gloat, castigating Drake for his foolish credulity before tearing up all those checks he'd been writing while vowing to continue ripping off the public. Drake, in a cold fury, prepares to shish-kebab Normand with another arrow, but alas. Even this does not rate a DUN!, because this storyline has become tiresome and neither of these gentlemen are regular characters. Whatever.
Manor. During a brief processing summit on the sun porch, Raige pushes through her Issue Of The Week and, once again trusting her "instincts," realizes that Ann Cusack's "just a distraction"; Roché's actually still after Drake. Um, DUH, you idiot. Instead of smacking the taste out of Raige mouth while screaming, "WE KNEW THAT ALREADY!" Piper and the Dolt furrow their respective brows, lost in thought. Nimrods.
Back in The Non-Burning Office Tower Of My Discontent And Deep, Deep Despair, smarmy Normand finally goads Drake into using his powers by promising to gouge little old ladies out of their Social Security checks, or something. I'm really not paying attention anymore. And besides, gouging little old ladies out of their Social Security checks is a job for the fucking Republicans in Washington, isn't it? And what was I talking about again? Oh, yeah. Drake responds to Normand's dastardly threats by igniting a couple of Flaming Balls Of You Will Fly Backwards Through Yon Window Yet Somehow Remain Not Only Alive But Also Uninjured To The Point That You Will Be Able To Latch Improbably Onto The Sill Right Before You Would Otherwise Drop Seven Stories To Your Death On The Pavement Below, Thus Allowing A Hooting And Yodeling Phoebe The Opportunity To Pull Your Flabby White Ass Back Into The Room While I Myself Howl And Wail And Blaze My Merry Way Down To Hell Or The Waste Land Or Purgatory Or Whatever The Fuck The Crack-Addled Writers Are Calling It This Week, After We First Get A Brief Scene Back At The Manor Wherein Raige Beats Herself Up For Not Trusting Her Instincts Sooner. He hurls the unusually specific blazing missiles at Normand's chest and, well, see above. Mayhem erupts out on the street as Drake flares white and morphs into a demonically appropriate set of black clothing. Roché squiggles into the room, sucks Drake's powers out of the latter's chest in a stream of glowing twinkly red mojo, and sends Drake "off to Purgatory" just as Raige orbs into the room with Piper. While Raige and Piper warily eye Roché, Phoebe continues to hoot and yodel in the background, struggling to yank the smarmy corporate motherfucker back through the window frame. Roché finally challenges the gals with "Come and get me!" before squiggling into the final commercial break.
Manor. Aftermath. Raige orbs onto the sun porch with Phoebe and Piper to find the Dolt caught up in the continuing live coverage of Drake's downtown adventure. Piper crosses to retrieve the hideous genetic mishap meant to represent Tiny Gay Chris from her husband's arms, and the mutant wad of blubber immediately attempts to devour her hand. Recast! Now! Meanwhile, Raige's scrying crystal has slammed down on a set of map coordinates somewhere in the Mission District, indicating the approximate location of Roché's underground lair. Piper correctly realizes that Roché's drawing them into a trap. Phoebe proposes they think like Robin Hood, and I give up. What the fuck is that supposed to mean, huh? Gah. ANY-way, off Phoebe's aggravating smirk, we cut down to...
...Hell, where Roché and Ann Cusack snipe at each other until another copy of Ann Cusack suddenly appears at the sorcerer's desk to make with some quippy remarks of her own. Roché compliments Special Ed Ann on what he believes to be her rapidly increasing mastery of the astral projection mojo until two more copies of Ann unexpectedly materialize in the chamber to taunt him. "The Charmed Ones!" he realizes, just a moment too late to do anything useful to save himself. Which, you know, is not such a bad thing at all, because he's repellent. As he scampers futilely towards an exit, the three unchained Anns cross to meet each other at the center of the cavern, and the trio begins to recite the following:
Evil blasts we cannot use:
The Power of Three now lights the fuse.
Midway through the spell, the three Anns vanish in a swirling cloud of glowing golf balls and morph down into Phoebe, Piper, and Raige. And when I say "morph down," I mean way down. Even in those ungainly flats she's been wearing for each of her appearances, Ann Cusack's still at least a foot taller than the principal women on this show. Heh. Roché's subsequent vanquish is mercifully quick, and the moment he's gone, Piper turns to congratulate her sisters on a job well done. "What about Drake?" Raige wonders. Look yonder, idiot, for into the chamber he now blazes from points purgatorial to greet Phoebe's beaming smile with an affable if disbelieving, "You saved me?" Phoebe remarks something about Maid Marian I'll not be transcribing as the delightful and still-shackled Ann Cusack rolls her eyes, all, "You hideously self-centered bitches want to get me out of these cuffs already?" Raige crosses to, like, scratch feebly at Ann's restraints or something, allowing Piper an opening to whinge about finding herself in the Underworld yet again, battling dark demonic forces sent from the flaming maw of Hell and such. Drake ridiculously finds a certain amorous excitement in the situation, noting, "Most of the world's great lovers were brought together during a time of epic conflict." "Admittedly," he allows, "most of them were doomed, but they did find the romance in it." "So why can't you?" he demands, shooting a significant glance in Piper's direction. Incidentally, while he was drawing focus away from Ann Cusack with this little speech, he casually snapped his fingers, instantly releasing the restraints and sending Ann into a heap on the floor. Again: More amusing than anything so slapsticky has any right to be.
Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World. Pepper Anderson's managed to get her hands on an early edition of the following morning's All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. The main headline loudly proclaims, "Ask Phoebe A Hero." Shut up, you stupid newspaper. Shut up a lot. Pepper makes a few tedious comments along the lines of, "Isn't it odd that the badly wigged freak in the leather babydoll with the arrows and the bow disappeared without a trace?" This type of puzzled, suspicious chatter was much less irksome coming from Inspector Andy. Six years ago. When he was naked. The Doormat simply assures his partner they'll catch the freak eventually, and wearily wishes her good night. Pepper Anderson gazes musingly into the middle distance. Yawn.
Not!warts. Raige meanders into the Not-So-Great hall with Drake's class schedule and student roster. She also reveals she's assigned the delightful Ann Cusack as his teaching assistant. This is...not very interesting at all, so we'll skip ahead to the part where Phoebe bounces into the room with her congratulations and, presumably, an offer to fuck him on the desk once they've rid themselves of pesky Raige. Hell, maybe they'll just go at it right in front the sister -- it is Valentine's Day, after all, and Phoebe's a game sort of gal. Ain't love grand? Fortunately for her sake, Raige must flee to babysit the kids for Piper and the Dolt, thereby allowing Phoebe and Drake some measure of privacy. Once alone with the latest object of her sordid affections, Phoebe passes him tomorrow's paper, wrapping up the stupid phone company storyline with word that Normand has agreed to refund all of those unethical-yet-not-illegal fees he'd collected over the years. "Guess he just needed to be reminded of his mortality," Phoebe smirks. No one cares, Phoebe. NO ONE CARES. Drake, for his part, has a somewhat more interesting tale to tell. That deal he made with the blessedly late and decidedly unlamented Roché? It "only lasts a year." "At the end of it," he explains, "I gotta die." Phoebe giggles like a fool until she realizes he's serious. "Can we fix it?" she wonders, crushed. "You can't," he insists before assuring her that "it's all good." He then races off to his night class -- WHAT? -- leaving Phoebe to gnash her teeth in unwillingly chaste despair over not getting any demonic tail on Valentine's Day, or something, as we finally fade to black.
week, the ungodly marriage of Moulin Rouge! and, well, Phoebe Halliwell, actually, as Phoebe and Drake get caught in a century-old time loop that traps them in a doomed Barbary Coast bordello. Huh. Phoebe as a whore? Go figure. See you then!