Previously on Are You Ready For An Eighth Season? I Said, ARE YOU READY FOR AN EIGHTH SEASON?, Piper chatted with Raige about the recent changes in the Dolt's life, the Dolt whined to Piper about the recent changes in his life, the Glamorous Ladies gave the whiny and recently changed Dolt Not!warts to run, Phoebe decided to purchase a graduate degree for herself, and Raige was briefly beset by the Dental Drill Of Dreadful Discord before she had a little tête-à-tête with Elizabeth Dennehy atop the Golden Gate Bridge.
Currently on And Great Was The Wailing And Gnashing Of Teeth Across The Land, we fade up on the Manor's two cordless phones lying on the table up in the nonexistent attic while, in the background, Raige flicks a pinch of something or other into the copper potions pot, receives a sparkly yet noxious cloud of smoke in her kisser for her troubles, and swears. "Keep it down!" Piper chides, sashaying into the nonexistent room from the upper stairs. "I just got [poor, neglected, and doomed Tiny Gay] Chris to sleep." "WELL, IF YOU WERE HERE TO HELP ME, THAT WOULD MAYBE, YOU KNOW, HELP," the ever cooperative Raige blares. Shut up, Raige. Piper resists the urge to backhand Raige to the other side of the attic and instead asks for the phone, as she wants to call the dead-eyed, bemulleted Psycho's preschool to make sure her tiny serial killer hasn't taken it upon himself to eviscerate randomly selected groups of his ankle-biting peers yet. Or something like that. Muggy McGowan flaps her arms around in the air and makes yappy noises about the Psycho being safe and sound at Not!warts. Piper patiently reminds her lippy bastard of a half-sister that they informed Raige about the Psycho attending a regular preschool last week. "You didn't tell me that!" Mugs insists before allowing her face to crinkle into a grimace of self-doubt. "Did you?" Piper's all, "Um, yeah, you scatterbrained dumbass, and you said you were worried about him using magic in public." "And what'd you say?" Muggy, like, hunchbacks. Seriously, she drops one shoulder towards the floor, pushes the other one up and over her chest, and nearly squints her right eye shut while goggling with her left. She looks like Peter Lorre the morning after a weeklong cocaine binge in Ensenada. In ropy slutwear. You know, of the three leads on this damned, unkillable show, she really is the one I'm worried about in light of the renewal. I mean, if she's this twitchy now, by this time year she'll be lurching uncontrollably around the set with an IV of L-Dopa running out of her arm. "I said," Piper drones, clearly irritated at the expository turn the conversation has taken, "I was worried about him having a normal life." Raige takes this opportunity to bitch about her charges, but Piper cares as little about that bullshit as I do and powers around the table to snatch up one of the handsets. "No using the phone!" Raige demands. "I'm trying to prevent a demon attack!" There has been a spate of those recently, you see, and Raige explains that, while each of the recent intruders has displayed different powers, indicating they've likely been of various demonic species, they have all attacked shortly after the phone rang, for some certain-to-be-compelling reason. "No, they don't," Piper disputes. "Phoebe called earlier, and nothing happened." Muggy wrinkles her entire head in despair as her "New Zealand charge" rings her Whitelightery bell, just as one of the cordlesses on the table goes off and I race into the kitchen to slam my head repeatedly with the oven door over the sheer stupidity of it all. It's a lot of clanging going on at the same time, is what I'm saying.
In any event, a strapping young Aberzombie-and-Bitch type in a bomber jacket and sunglasses almost instantly rays into the nonexistent room to conjure a Flaming Ball Of Death atop his right palm, which he then hurls in the gals' direction. Raige and Piper dive towards opposite sides of the table as the FBOD plows between their falling bodies to vanquish a sheaf of paper on the ancient roll-top desk behind them. Hey! What happened to the Dolt's mad crazy reorganization of the nonexistent attic's contents? You know these hateful bitches spent the better part of a week putting everything back where it was. Ingrates. From the floor, Piper hastily flings out one of her mighty Hands of Discontent. The resulting mojo zaps the strapping intruder's inner thigh, and he face-plants into the floorboards with a grunt before pushing himself back up onto his knees. Raige snatches up a handy vanquishing vial and pitches it into the guy's shoulder. Interestingly enough, nothing happens. Raige screams for her sister to redeploy the Hands just as the strapping intruder generates another FBOD. Piper hikes herself up into a sitting position and complies with both, which for some reason propels enough of the mighty mojo to send the strapping intruder on his merrily blazing way down to The Waste Land. Maybe. As his screams slowly echo away, Piper cocks a brow and sings, "You might be right about that phone thing!" before vanishing into the opening credits.
What? Sarah McLachlan? Groaning out "Fallen" again? Yeah, they've recycled travelogue ovaries before -- mainly because someone on staff really, really wants to fuck Liz Phair -- but they've never recycled the same fucking song. God, I hate this show. Anyway, after a lengthy and languorous opening travelogue that nearly tosses me into a com,a what with the ovary's over-familiar droning and such, we finally cross-fade over to Prescott Street, where Piper's just finished retrieving a voicemail from the Psycho's preschool wrangler. She heaves a fretful sigh and rejoins Raige at the table, where the two women puzzle through the recent spate of demonic incursions into the Manor. Raige notes with mild alarm that the strapping pre-credits intruder "even looked kind of human," and so adds a bit of mandrake root to her vanquishing potion, on the off chance they're dealing with shape-shifters. Piper realizes the last relevant attack coincided with the last call from the Psycho's preschool. "You're right!" Raige brightly agrees, before shifting into an overly accusatory tone and adding, "Do you think [the Psycho's] creating these demons?" "That's ridiculous!" Piper scoffs. Raige peevishly reminds Piper of the dragon incident from last season. "One lousy dragon!" Piper howls. "And you're gonna hold it against him for his entire life?"
Phoebe, barely wearing a stripey satin top with white chiffon accents that seems better suited for beachwear -- in Hell -- bounces into the nonexistent room to get the skinny on the latest demonic assault upon the Manor. Piper and Raige immediately descend into rampant bickering and bitchery over the Psycho's possible involvement, with Raige sneering that the Psycho's "been isolating himself at preschool and only talking to himself." "That's odd," Phoebe frowns. "No," Piper counters impatiently, "it's not odd. Just because he's talking to himself does not mean he's creating demons." No, it means he's planning to slaughter you all in your sleep and assume control of the Nexus. "Except he's kind of quiet around home," Phoebe reminds her. "Kind of"? Try "eerily, creepily, and murderously" there, and maybe I'll start to agree with you. Also, you idiots are just realizing this now? No wonder the mutant little freak ends up destroying the planet. In any event, Phoebe busts out some of her recently acquired psychological insight regarding the stages of child development -- because she's already enrolled in classes at Berkeley, despite having announced her intention to return to school a mere week ago, because this show sucks, and I want to die -- and claims that by this point, the Psycho "should be talking to other people and not just himself." "I'm very sorry you went back to college," Piper scowls. Like, you're not the only one, hon. Not by a long shot. "But it's really helping me with my column," Phoebe dizzes, before pulling herself out of the self-obsession long enough to admit, "and that has nothing to do with [the Psycho] creating demons." Phoebe then goes on to natter something useless about "Freudian transference" (that Piper dismisses as "mumbo-jumbo") before spinning on her heel to head across the bay to consult with her professor. The instant Phoebe's vanished down the stairs, Raige and Piper howl at each other about something involving the phones that makes so little sense, I'll be ignoring it entirely, because the very thought of attempting to address it makes my eyes tear up and my nose bleed.
Over on a supposedly tony Bay Area residential block that is actually a series of fronts on the Paramount backlot because San Francisco does not have row homes, a nanny wheels a stroller-bound rugrat past the façade of the "Robin Brook Preschool." Inside, the Dolt bumbles through the halls until he stumbles across the Psycho's assigned wrangler, a certain "Miss Henderson" whose first name I'm guessing is "Lucy," because that's the name of the character this actress played the last time she appeared on this show five years ago. And...I totally don't care about the Dolt's parenting issues, so we'll be skipping ahead to the bit of this scene that's relevant to tonight's main plot: The Dolt and Miss Lucy enter one of the classrooms to find the Psycho babbling and baring his pointy little Satan teeth at the wall, all the while fingering that teddy bear he's supposed to hate. When the camera shoots across the room for a low-angle shot on the brat, however, we realize that the Psycho's actually engaged in a friendly little confab with a black-clad, leather-jacketed demonic sort who looks like a younger, slightly more attractive version of Tim Roth. "I really like our conversations, [you dead-eyed freak]," the demon enthuses in a tone that indicates he's dealt with children many times before and is quite good at it, "but you know I'm a secret, right? Nobody else can see me." The demon shoots the Dolt a withering glare as the latter announces his intention to return with the supposedly ailing Psycho to the Manor, but quickly refocuses his solicitous attention on the kid. "Now, we won't be able to talk much longer," the demon apologetically admits, "but don't worry -- I'll be back. I promise." As the Dolt, oblivious to the demon's presence, scoops the Psycho up into his arms, the demon brightly continues, "See you soon, [you creepy-ass sociopath]! I wanna hear more about that special teddy bear [you supposedly can't stand to touch]." The Psycho never breaks eye contact with his demonic pal as his father totes him out of the room into the hallway beyond. The demon -- standing, amusingly enough, in front of a poster featuring sixteen Capital-E "Emotions" of which the Psycho has displayed in his entire life exactly zero -- dematerializes in much the same way Kappa Kappa Klea did all those many episodes ago: Most of his body squiggles into transparency, but his eyes and grin hover in the air for a moment before twinkling and vanishing as well. The screen flashes, and we're...
...down in Hell, where "Vicus" rematerializes eyes-first to be greeted by his diminutive Ethan Hawke-alike underling, Hugo. (The Hawke-alike, by the way, is actually Billy Kay, who appeared in the deeply disturbing L.I.E. four years ago, and this episode's resulting indirect association with that movie makes Vicus's knack for communicating with the kiddies far more troubling than the script deserves, if you know what I mean.) The upshot of the subsequent exchange is this: Vicus, by "nurturing the evil" within various unspecified magical beings when those beings were young, has managed to form a "collective" of these creatures over the years, of which wee Hugo here is a part. Vicus, aware that the Psycho "will grow to become one of the most powerful witches ever to walk the earth," believes it's in the Collective's best interest to have so powerful an entity allied with it, rather than standing against it in opposition. Hugo's none too eager to battle the Charmed Ones over the Psycho's purported soul, but his master leaves him little choice in the matter. Given far less emphasis in the episode as aired, as opposed to the prominence it seemed to have in the shooting script, is the tiny little fact that the Collective's unspecified magical beings are actually human witches gone wrong because of Vicus's intervention, which probably would have added an intriguing spin to the evening's events had it been pushed to the forefront. It would have also, however, endowed Hugo and his compatriots with a certain moral ambiguity that this show finds anathema, and so of course had to be deleted save for one glancing reference in a later scene, because we can't have the kiddies sympathizing and siding with the supposed bad guys when Piper blows them up. And now you know why I appended that "maybe" onto my earlier Waste Land reference: If these are human forces of evil, where, exactly, do they go after they've been vanquished? It's an interesting question that's never answered.
Oh, I'm kidding. Like I could give a rat's ass about any of this. Had you going there for a second, though, didn't I?
Berkeley. The Fun Bags jiggle down a sidewalk upon teetering heels to confront their psychology lecturer, "Professor Slotkin," over the Psycho's developmental difficulties. After listening to Phoebe babble incessantly for about fifteen minutes with an expression of, at best, mild annoyance on her face, Professor Slotkin supposes the Psycho's concocted an imaginary friend for himself, and launches into a needless explanatory monologue involving immature thinking and conflict resolution and coping mechanisms and blah until Phoebe interrupts for a moment to scramble for a pen so she can write this all down. The good professor widens her eyes a bit at this and pointedly states, "Oh, and that's 'Slotkin' with an S. ...You were planning on giving me credit?" the good professor prompts. Phoebe doesn't get it. Go figure. The good professor snaps that last week's class discussion on imprinting ended up in this week's "Ask Phoebe." "I'm assuming we're discussing week's content, no?" she sneers. Phoebe splutters in protest, but The Very Good Professor cuts her off with, "Please. We both know why you're taking my class. I've spent years studying and teaching psychology, Miss Halliwell -- dedicating my life to it," The Most Excellent Professor continues, "but I'll be damned if I'm just going to let you poach my class to steal a sound bite or two for your column." The Most Excellent Professor Ever To Appear On American Television concludes, "You want to learn about imaginary friends? Do the research!" before casually striding away from the flabbergasted Feebs. BOO-ya! The Feebs is all, "But...but...I didn't...I don't...oh, fuck it! That BITCH is so eating a wall before this evening is over!" Seriously, Professor Slotkin. I'd switch teams for you after that scene, but I must express my concern for your physical well being. No one calls Phoebe on her bullshit and lives to tell about it.
Manor. Up on the sun porch, the Psycho carefully extracts a length of industrial-strength wiring from one of his deadly playthings, which he surreptitiously pockets for later use as a garrote on poor, doomed Tiny Gay Chris. Meanwhile, the oblivious Piper and the Dolt sit at the nearby table, nattering away about their boring parenting issues and such until the Dolt notes that they don't know if the mental "road bumps" the Psycho's apparently enduring at the moment are "magical, or just a part of normal development." "I wish we could just ask him," Piper sighs, tossing a worried glance in the Psycho's direction while skillfully setting the stage for tonight's wacky Wiccan hijinks at the same time. Unfortunately, Raige orbs onto the sun porch at this moment to bitch about the Maori people and how she never wants to see any of them again -- no, seriously, and we're supposed to be rooting for this incompetent bitch...why? -- before confessing that she might have learned the identity of this evening's demonic posse. Piper stage-whispers for the Dolt to take the murderous child upstairs so he doesn't overhear any of the "demon talk." Whatever, Piper. The Psycho thrives on that shit. Once the Dolt's disappeared with the brat, Raige reveals that her research at Not!warts indicates the demons' "various offensive powers are traditionally associated with good magic," which "supports the theory that [the Psycho's] creating them." "Oh, for crying out loud!" Piper brays, outraged that Raige would continue to believe Piper's precious sociopath is the source of their current woe. Just then, the phone rings. The soundtrack lets us all know that This Is Possibly A Very Bad Thing by going nuts with the dun-dun-DUN! horns and whatnot. "This is ridiculous!" Piper groans. "We can't live like this," she continues, rising from her chair and crossing into the dining room to rummage through one of the sideboard's drawers for a pen and some paper; the unanswered phone continues to ring in the background. "I'm going to figure out if [the Psycho] is behind this once and for all," she vows, slamming the drawer shut for emphasis.
Up in the Prue Halliwell Memorial Bimbo Boudoir Of Paisley Tit Slings And Other Fashion Atrocities, currently occupied by the kids, the Dolt places the Psycho in the latter's roomy little crib-like bed and, allowing fatherly concern to crease his forehead, asks the terror if he's okay. The Psycho just stares blankly at the Dolt. Evil! Meanwhile, poor little brain-damaged Tiny Gay Chris quite happily drools all over himself in the blurry background of the shot. Heh. The Dolt rises to tend to his younger, eventually far prettier son, and as the camera arcs around the Psycho, we see that Vicus has silently joined the party. The Psycho greets his demonic friend with audibly vicious delight. Vicus slithers something about the detested Crusty Ted as the Dolt, still oblivious to Vicus's presence and affect on his elder son, frets wordlessly. Shut up, Dolt.
"Shoot," Piper grunts down on the sun porch, where she's busy scribbling out a spell on the pad of paper she'd retrieved from the sideboard. "What rhymes with 'communicate'?" she wonders, and you're asking this of the nitwit who can't define "flogging," Piper? Get a grip. Raige dodges the question by mentioning the whole personal-gain thing that they only seem to remember when it's convenient for the purposes of the current storyline. "[The Psycho] created a demon who kidnapped him and a dragon that nearly destroyed the city," Piper snorts. "I'm not real worried about personal gain." Besides, as Piper explains, they'll be casting the spell on themselves, anyway, and...not so much with that last bit at all, Piper, but you'll be finding that out for yourself in about five seconds. Piper makes a couple of adjustments to the spell, then reads it aloud:
Help this mother understand
The thoughts inside her little man:
Even though his mouth be [nigh close]
Let us hear his inner [Psycho].
Oh, shut up. Do you know how hard it is to come up with a rhyme for "Psycho" when you're facing a deadline? Anyway, a swirling cloud of glowing golf balls immediately erupts on the sun porch. Piper and Raige eye the phenomenon warily as it gradually coagulates and congeals into Mangy Jesus form. Only he's not so mangy this time around, unfortunately. No, he's clean-shaven and short-haired and sporting faded blue jeans and a tan jacket and he's just really, really...bland-looking. Boring Jesus lets his eyes wander around the room for a moment while Raige shudders with surprise and Piper gazes at the strange young man on the sun porch with something approaching horrified shock. Heh. Boring Jesus eventually settles his attention on Piper, and cocks his head all, "Mom?" Piper's jaw hits the floor. "It's me," Boring Jesus continues, a faint smile flickering across his face, "[Boring Jesus]!" Raige gapes as Piper disbelievingly whips her head around straight into the commercial break.
Sun Porch. Aftermath. Endlessly talky aftermath, in fact, during which it becomes groaningly obvious that none of these fools know why Piper's spell dragged Boring Jesus into the past from 2028. Of note: Wes Ramsey's really pushing the Junior Dolt characterization, here, and please. One of those morons per episode is more than enough, thank you very much. Though I must admit he's doing a damn fine job aping the Dolt's inflections. Heh. "Aping the Dolt." Hee. Also, the lighting designer's chosen to bathe Boring Jesus in this preternatural white glow throughout this scene, presumably to hammer home the fact that this version of Piper's older son, in stark contrast to the variations we've encountered, grew up to be undeniably good. Unfortunately for the lighting designer, it's having quite the opposite effect not only on me, but also on many who've been posting on the forum boards. We're convinced, you see, that this is all an elaborate hoax perpetrated by the adult Psycho on his lame-witted elders for some reason or another. Maybe we're just desperate for an interesting character, and God knows Boring Jesus here isn't cutting it. In any event, there's banter about how wise and optimistic Raige and Piper respectively become in the future, and now I'm convinced the evil Psycho's pulling one over on these idiots, because a smart Raige? No. NO.
Phoebe bounces into the front hall at this point to...I totally don't care, because, seriously, that top of hers? Let me put it this way: If I were magically transported into the past and one of my aunts was flashing that much unfettered tit in my direction, I'd be speeyacking all over the house. Boring Jesus seems immune to the horror, however, so Phoebe gets to remind us all that time travel gives her a migraine before The Maori People ring Raige's Whitelightery bell, much to the latter's exaggerated aggravation. Boring Jesus urges Muggy McGowan to tend to her charge while he sorts things out at the Manor with his mother and his bony skank of a half-naked aunt. I think he really just wants her to have her impending epileptic seizure in a place where he won't have to witness it. Once Raige has disappeared through the ceiling, Boring Jesus grins, "Okay! You guys cast a spell to communicate with me, right? So, let's go talk to me!" With that, he lopes upstairs while Piper and the Skank wiggle their eyebrows at each other.
Up in the second-floor hallway, Boring Jesus enthusiastically greets his befuddled Dolt of a father, who's toting poor, doomed Tiny Gay Chris around for some reason or another. Boring Jesus makes mention of a marble he'll attempt to shove down Tiny Gay Chris's windpipe at some point in the near future, prompting Phoebe to remind him that they'll be having none of that future talk for the remainder of Boring Jesus's sojourn in 2005, as foreknowledge can be dangerous. Except when it comes to your stupid daughter, right, trash? Don't worry. You good people will know what I'm talking about soon enough. Boring Jesus powers past his still-clueless dad towards Prue Memorial, where he's more than a little surprised to find Vicus assuring his younger self, "If you let me see [Crusty Ted], I will give him right back -- I promise." "Hey," Boring Jesus opens, much to Vicus's consternation, "don't I know you? You look familiar." "You can see me?" Vicus demands. "Of course I can," Boring Jesus duhs as Piper calls to him from the hall outside. Vicus quickly dematerializes just as Piper enters, wondering, "Who are you talking to?" "Th-that man," Boring Jesus stammers. "You didn't see him? He was just there, talking to...me." "You or him?" the Dolt asks, nodding towards the Psycho. "Both," Boring Jesus blinks. Tiny Gay Chris, perched on one of Piper's hips, gargles excitedly while leaning across his mother's body and waving his hand around in a futile attempt to vanquish his skanky aunt. Silly Chris. You don't have molecular manipulation. God love you for trying, though.
Hell. Chatty scene between Vicus and Hugo, wherein it becomes ever more apparent that poor Hugo's not a big fan of his boss's current plot against the Manor Morons. It's also apparent that Hugo's not nearly as familiar with the logistics of time travel as Vicus is. You see, Vicus realizes that Boring Jesus is the Psycho's adult version, and believes Boring Jesus's presence offers them all an unprecedented opportunity. Hugo doesn't get it, because Boring Jesus' very existence must prove that Vicus failed to turn the Psycho to the Dark Side. Hugo, doll, if you'd been tuning in as the rest of us have for the last seven godforsaken years, you'd know that even the slightest alteration in the past will ripple forward through time to affect the future, even if both the past event and the future result exist at the same time in the present. What? It made sense in my head. Leave me alone. Vicus -- who apparently did manage to catch "Cat House," at least in reruns on TNT -- orders Hugo to storm the Manor with a few of the other members of the Collective to distract the Glamorous Ladies, as he intends "to get the boy to give [him] that bear." "With it, I'll finally turn him," Vicus explains, "and then I'll watch the future change before my very eyes." Muah ha ha ha hazzzzzzzzzzzz. Oh, and look at that! Another commercial break!
No, seriously: Snore. Nothing against Marcus Chait or Billy Kay, as they're both offering the audience some decent work as tonight's guest demons, but let's face it. We all know they're going to be dead by the fifty-minute mark if not sooner, and their brilliant plan will end a shambles, so why should we care? It would have been far more compelling for Zankou to be the author of this evening's hijinks, as it would both raise the stakes for the Glamorous Ladies and tie in well with the supposed season-ending story arc they've been building since the late Avatar debacle. As it is, tonight's is a vaguely interesting story ruined by its rotten execution. Go figure. Like we've never seen that before around here.
Manor. Piper, in a red fury over what she believes to be an attack on her son, storms into the nonexistent attic for a little enraged Book abuse as Phoebe and Boring Jesus trail behind her, ineffectually arguing that the gentleman Boring Jesus spotted in Prue Memorial might be harmless. "He wasn't threatening at all," Boring Jesus offers. "Maybe he was an imaginary friend?" Phoebe guesses. "No!" Piper snaps. "Imaginary friends are imaginary; hence, the name." Oh, like you've never encountered supposed figments of a child's imagination that turned out to be actual, honest-to-God Stoopid Magikal Kreatures before, Piper. Stow it. Piper, perhaps mercifully for her sake, doesn't recall that particularly asinine episode, and so orders Boring Jesus to the Book to identify the entity he saw in the nursery. Phoebe too-casually inquires as to the well being of Boring Jesus's cousins -- and see what I meant with the hypocritical Feebs and the future talk? -- a line of questioning Piper fortunately shuts down instantly just as Boring Jesus himself lands on Vicus's entry in the Book. "I think you're right," Boring Jesus breathes. "Vicus is a demon who preys on children," Piper reads, "turning them down the path of evil." And there is absolutely no way -- NO WAY -- they would have overlooked this entry last season when everyone -- but most especially Big Gay Chris -- was focused solely on vanquishing Those Who Might Maybe Turn The Psycho To The Dark Side. AND, even if Vicus somehow slipped through their fingers then, how did he make it through the demon-sporking tear the Glamorous Ladies embarked upon in anticipation of this season's Change? Oh, what-the-fuck-ever. I hate this show. All eight godawful, hideous seasons of it. Yeah, I know we haven't seen the eighth yet, but do you honestly believe it's going to get any better at this point in the game? Ack.
ANY-way, Hugo and two of his best hipster buds ray into the nonexistent room at this point to provide Vicus with that distraction he ordered before the last commercial break. Hugo's got a pair of these sweet supernatural whips that flail through the air in lashes of bright blue mojo. He lands a well-placed lick on the Book, which sets off a small protective blast of energy that knocks Piper backwards to the floor. Hugo's gal pal, meanwhile, hurls a reflective orb at Phoebe's head. The skank drops to the floor in a dodge that sends the orb sailing past to destroy a table at the far side of the room.
Meanwhile, down in the kitchen, the Dolt hears the familiar sounds of a demonic battle erupting far above his head and so -- get this -- leaves the kids alone to go check on Piper. Idiot. Once the neglectful asshole's ambled around the corner into the main hall, Vicus materializes and coos something sinister at the Psycho about Crusty Ted while holding out his hands to receive the thing. The Psycho hesitates.
Out at the foot of the stairs, the neglectful asshole glances atticwards and frets. You deserve all the hatred your future sons hold for you, Dolt.
Nonexistent Attic. Piper's mighty Hands prove ineffective on this group of invaders, and she actually finds herself flat on her ass when Hugo skillfully wraps the business end of one of his whips around her ankles and yanks. Those things are wicked cool. Why haven't we seen anything like them before? Over in another corner of the nonexistent room, Phoebe cowers behind a table until Hugo's male companion spots her and blasts her with a Flaming Ball Of You Will Plow Fun Bags First Halfway Across The Floor To Land In A Heap In The Corner, You Badly Dressed And Bony Hag. Boring Jesus emerges from the shadows at this point and growls, "Enough!" in an unnaturally deep and overly processed voice before returning to his normal register to add, "Leave my family alone!" With that, he thrusts his hands in the intruders' direction, setting off a wall of orange mojo that blasts through the room, instantly vaporizing Hugo and his friends in a wave of energy that also sends various unsecured attic items crashing into the windows on the far side of the room. "Everything all right up there?" the Dolt bellows from below. "Oh, yeah, we're fine!" Piper sings, openly gaping at her scary freak of a son before shooting a terrified glance over at the decidedly nonplussed Feebs.
Down on the main floor, the Dolt saunters back into the kitchen just in time to catch Crusty Ted floating through the air, seemingly of its own accord. The Dolt realizes something has gone horribly wrong when the bear glows red before wafting back into the Psycho's arms. "Don't touch it!" he shouts, but it's too late. Vicus's evil mojo transfers into the Psycho's body the instant the kid's fingers brush against Crusty Ted's matted and befouled fur. Boring Jesus orbs in from the nonexistent attic at this point, and Vicus gets a giddily anticipatory smirk on his face as Boring Jesus wonders what gives. Before the Dolt can answer, however, Boring Jesus finds himself assaulted by a painfully slow morphing effect that demonstrates exactly how low-budget this show can be at times while rendering Boring Jesus into his Mangy form, complete with tight black t-shirt, that straggly long wig with those cunning blond highlights, and a ludicrous false goatee they've indifferently taped to his upper lip and chin. Mangy Jesus glares at Vicus and spits, "Who are you?" "Who are you talking to?" the just-arrived Piper wonders. "The demon," the Dolt whimpers dimly. The demon in question smiles, "Follow me," and Cheshires his way out of the kitchen. Mangy erupts in a geyser of black orbs that quickly dissipate, leaving his parents and skank aunt to glance uneasily at the smaller version of his psychotic self.
Hell. Mangy Jesus stalks through Vicus's chamber, making some very familiar-sounding remarks about "oppressive morality." He's also returned to that vaguely English accent he had the last time we saw him, thus completing the demonic trifecta of black clothing, asinine facial hair, and wicked Britishness. Mangy Jesus and Vicus discuss the steps in their plan for world domination, with Vicus more than a little worried that the Manor Morons will attempt to restore Mangy to his Boring form. "We must attack them before they do," Vicus proposes. "No!" Mangy sharply corrects. "I know them all too well -- it's too risky to fight them at the Manor, but here we'll have the advantage, because we'll be waiting for them." "You would kill your own family?" Vicus whispers, somewhat amazed. "Watch me," Wes Ramsey's fake goatee articulates carefully before disappearing into the commercial break. I'd normally give that a DUN!, but because the line was delivered by a cheap-ass chin wig, it somewhat lost, oh, nearly all of its intended effect. Stupid show.
"Are you telling me our child is evil, again?" Piper bites out as the dead-eyed Psycho gnaws ominously on his index finger. All the Dolt knows, he explains, is that Mangy Jesus appeared after the invisible demon "cursed" Crusty Ted. "So we have to get it away from him," Phoebe doofs, gingerly picking her way across the kitchen floor to pluck the thing from the Psycho's arm. The Psycho promptly and obstinately snatches Crusty Ted back with his orbing telekinesis while sucking on his Satanically pointy teeth as if to say, "Try that again, you bitch, and those implants of yours are going straight up your goddamned nose." The Manor Morons bang their weeny little brains together to construct the following plan: Piper and the Dolt are to head for Not!warts with the Psycho and the Book of Shadows, in the hope that they'll find some way to remove the curse from Crusty Ted. Phoebe and Raige, meanwhile, will seek out and destroy Vicus, the idea being that the curse will reverse itself once the demon responsible has been vanquished. Tiny Gay Chris, meanwhile, is apparently meant to linger there in the kitchen in his hand-me-down product-placed playpen until he starves to death. Bastards. "And if neither one of [your options] works?" Piper asks. "Then we're screwed," Phoebe shrugs in response. The wizened Dolt sulks while cuddling with the Psycho, who clearly couldn't give a rat's ass whether his massive ass of a father lives or dies.
Nonexistent Attic. Phoebe scoops from the carpet the cremated remains of one of the human beings her nephew immolated not five minutes ago and dumps them into a small brass bowl. She then grinds the scrying crystal into the ash and begins twirling the thing above a map of the city, all the while explaining the plan we just heard her come up with in the scene, while Raige futzes around with a potion in the background. The crystal eventually plants itself on a set of coordinates, and Phoebe orders Raige to prepare the vanquishing vials.
Not!warts and boring! The central message of the scene that follows between Piper and the Dolt? Curses are hard! No, seriously, you guys -- they totally are! And...scene. This show blows. And yet, improbably, it lives on and on and on. I want to die.
Hell. Mangy Jesus and Vicus natter about the impending battle with the Manor Morons while Mangy uses his supernatural Lo-Jack to track his trampy aunts' current location. Mangy reminds Vicus he need not worry about any threat from Phoebe and Raige as long as he remains cloaked, then gets a wicked glint in his eye as he announces the ladies' imminent arrival. Vicus steps off to the side as Raige orbs in with the Feebs to confront her nephew. After the three exchange some terse remarks, the Manor bimbos start flinging vanquishing vials blindly around the chamber, foolishly believing one of them will inadvertently land near enough to Vicus's invisible form to send him on his merrily blazing way to The Waste Land. Mangy Jesus bides his time patiently enough until they've thus expended their energies, then raises a hand in Vicus's direction, emitting a white burst of energy from his palm that wavers around Vicus for a moment before stripping away the latter's shield. "What are you doing?" Vicus spits in abject terror. "Making a point," Mangy Jesus coolly replies. "Go ahead," he adds, turning to his aunts. "Vanquish him." Raige propels a vial into Vicus's chest, and yet another demon of the week disappears in gouts of flame. Shame, really. He wasn't that bad-looking. "So you thought you'd change me back, did you?" Mangy smirks, advancing upon the brutally dimwitted skank and the unfortunately hairy bulge jockey. "Why didn't that work?" Phoebe hisses frantically at Raige. "Because I'm not under any spell," Mangy helpfully explains, "and you can't change me back simply by vanquishing Vicus." "He still got to me," Mangy adds with a self-satisfied and expansive sweep of his arms, "and this is how evil grows over the years." Mangy then summons the remaining members of Vicus's collective and sics them on his aunts, but not before telekinetically flipping Phoebe to the opposite end of the chamber from Raige, the better to, um, hinder the two from orbing out of there somehow, I suppose. Whatever. And you can tell how disengaged I've become from this evening's events when I gloss over so spectacular an example of Phoebe abuse. Yawn. Mangy Jesus darklights out of there as Vicus's underlings advance upon the Ps.
Not!warts. As the dead-eyed Psycho vengefully fashions new and exciting weapons from Matchbox cars and building blocks for eventual use against poor, neglected, and doomed Tiny Gay Chris, the Dolt, perched on a nearby sofa, urges Piper to recite the following from the Book of Shadows:
Evil taints what was once held dear:
Remove this curse away from here.
Nothing happens, much as nothing happened after "the last fifteen spells" the Dolt had Piper cast. "What if it's not just [Crusty Ted]?" she wonders quietly, with a bit of defeated resignation coloring her tone. "What if the problem is [the Psycho]?" Hello! That's what I've been saying for the better part of two years now. Sigh. The Dolt, of course, is sickened, repulsed, and deeply insulted at the very notion the fruit of his loins could be fundamentally and irreparably damaged. He shouldn't be so surprised. I mean, he has looked in a mirror recently, hasn't he? Nevertheless, the Dolt exhorts Piper not to lose faith before the two process through yet another round of their tedious, tiresome parenting issues. At some point during all of this, the Dolt stumbles across a realization that will eventually solve their current problem. It involves Vicus winning the Psycho's trust and the need for the Psycho's parents to recapture the same, and it doesn't make any goddamned sense, because these two and her sisters have done nothing but lavish the bemulleted mutant with praise and affection -- to the notable detriment of the other infant in the Manor, I might add -- so why would any of them need to regain the Psycho's trust? Unless, of course, the Psycho really is a demon child. Whatever. I don't care anymore, so let's get to the part where Mangy Jesus darklights into the Not-So-Great Hall to make with the menacing and the snide remarks and such. He intends to abscond with the Psycho so his parentals won't screw him up again by turning him good. Piper just as snidely assures him he'll have little choice in the matter. "What are you gonna do, Mom?" Mangy Jesus sneers. "Kill me to protect me?" "It's a thought," she snaps back at him. "You always said spanking was barbaric," he scoffs, so Piper unleashes her Hands in his direction, sending him ass over end across the room, where he vanquishes a vase with what appears to be his wig. There are more threats of violence from both sides until Mangy darklights over to the coffee table at which his parents had been sitting and attempts to snatch up the Book. For some reason, the Book repels this advance, despite the fact that we know Mangy Jesus has no problems lugging the thing around in that alternate future Big Gay Chris traveled into the past to change. Mangy, thus thwarted as far as the Book is concerned, turns his attention to his younger self, deploying a little darklighting telekinesis to summon the Psycho and Crusty Ted to his side. He kneels, simmers, "Don't wait up for me," and darklights into the final commercial break with both brat and bear.
Manor. Sun Porch. Aftermath again, some more. Phoebe and Raige have somehow managed to escape Vicus's brood with little more than a scratch on Phoebe's arm. Don't bother asking how they pulled that one off, because you're never going get an answer. Piper, meanwhile, has been scrying for Mangy Jesus's current location, and soon enough, the crystal plonks down on a set of coordinates. Piper proposes they orb over immediately, much to the baying objections of her husband and her sisters, who in the end prevail, despite Piper's assertion that she "can't just sit by and watch [her] son corrupt himself," which doesn't sound sick, perverse, twisted, and wrong at all, now, does it? Long story short, the Dolt determines that their best course of action is to lure Mangy Jesus into a Manor-based trap, using the Book of Shadows as bait. As the Dolt's certain Mangy will want to avoid a direct confrontation with any of the Glamorous Ladies, he'll remain in the house alone. Once Mangy arrives with the Psycho in tow, the Dolt will somehow persuade the fanged, bemulleted troll to surrender Crusty Ted, thereby breaking Vicus's curse. Just go with it. Piper, naturally, objects, as the Dolt lacks even the most basic magical abilities with which to protect himself against Mangy Jesus's wrath. "I may not have any powers, but I'm not powerless," the Dolt argues. Could've fooled me, chump. "I'm his father," the Dolt continues, ignoring me, "he's not gonna hurt me." "No?" Phoebe blares, rudely and -- as we shall shortly see -- stupidly inserting herself into the debate. "Ever read Hamlet?" Shut up, Phoebe. The Dolt reminds Phoebe that Claudius was Hamlet's stepfather. "Close enough!" Phoebe insists. "Freud says that..." "Woman!" Piper interrupts. "CAN IT!" Hooray! Piper reluctantly agrees with the Dolt's plan and rises to orb off with her sisters after urging the Dolt to be careful. Once the ladies have vanished through the ceiling, the Dolt lifts the Book from the sun porch's table and stands there all resolute and iron-jawed and steely-eyed and stupid.
Nonexistent Attic. The Book rests on its stand as Mangy Jesus darklights onto the carpet beyond with the Psycho and Crusty Ted. Mangy instructs his younger self to fetch the Book just as the Dolt emerges from the shadows, and oh, my God! Do these people never stop talking? That's all this scene is -- some endless, wearying debate on...I don't even fucking know at this point anymore. The nature of paternal love? Filial loyalty? I DO NOT CARE. And it's not that I have a problem with chatty dialogue in general. In fact, Edward Albee is one of my favorite playwrights, and Lord knows his characters are absolutely incapable of shutting their incessantly flapping yaps. But those people are drunk and hurling insults at each other. In short: Entertaining! This overly earnest pap about the Dolt being there when the Psycho was born and giving up his powers for him and trying to change the world for him? Is just making me fucking gag. Shut up, Dolt. And you can just shove those guilty tears right up your ass, Mangy Jesus. And would someone PLEASE get the fucking Psycho a fucking haircut already? GAH.
ANY-way, the Psycho passes stupid fucking Crusty Ted to the Dolt, thereby breaking the stupid fucking curse. Mangy Jesus morphs back into Boring Jesus, who, as one would expect, has no memory of recent events but is still verklempt from the Dolt's endless fucking babbling, so they hug. Ew. EW.
The brief closing travelogue drags us through the nighttime city into the following morning. It also drags us into a scene I'll not be recapping, as it involves the woman who was once The Most Excellent Professor Ever To Appear On American Television apologizing for "prejudging" Phoebe "as a fraud" and then slavishly kissing Phoebe's bony derriere over some paper on imaginary friends that Phoebe apparently crapped out during the closing travelogue and that this professor apparently read and graded in the few seconds before this scene began. CANCEL THIS FUCKING SHOW NOW.
Oh.
Ooops.
Shit.
Manor. Out on the sun porch, Pippihontas impatiently paces the floor, waiting for Raige to return from another New Zealand jaunt so they might as a family send Boring Jesus back to the future. Yeah. "As a family," with the exception of Tiny Gay Chris, who is nowhere to be seen, presumably because he actually did starve to death and is now rotting away in a shallow grave to irritating Jenny Gordon in the backyard. Raige eventually arrives, and there follows a lengthy farewell scene that was far more effective and touching when it centered around the other son. Boring Jesus does confirm, however, that Phoebe has a child. "In the future that extends forward from this precise moment in time, assuming absolutely nothing changes to alter said future," he shamefully neglects to add. So, there's still a tiny bit of hope for those of us utterly horrified over the fact that Phoebe might actually reproduce someday. Boring Jesus saves his last and longest goodbye for his mom, and then steps away from his family so Piper can recite the following from the slip of paper she holds in her hand:
Son in the future, son in the past,
Seeing anew what once had passed:
Return him now from whence he came --
Right when he left, all now the same.
The swirling cloud of glowing golf balls returns to whisk Boring Jesus off the sun porch. As he dematerializes, the creepy Psycho bares his fangs and hoots, "Bye!" before grunting unintelligibly and adding with what has to be the wickedest Joker-esque grin I've ever seen on a toddler, "Fire truck!" This of course translates as, "Y'all can kiss my little brother's ass goodbye, because the second you leave me alone with him again, I'm going to ram this fire truck through his soft, squishy skull directly into his brain!" Piper finds this amusing, for some reason. The others evidently agree and smile fondly as Piper crouches by the wicker coffee table to egg the scheming sociopath on, and we finally fade to black.
According to the promos, week proves that Phoebe will fuck absolutely anything, up to and including a bloody corpse. Enjoy!