Many thanks to Djb for pretty much providing this recap's title, and mad props to payndz for calling this episode's plotline last summer.
Previously on Du Wirst Zum Sklaven Gemacht Von Der KooterTät!!!, Phoebe decided to purchase a graduate degree for herself; the ever-useless Elders gave Raige the lovely Mitchell Haines as her first supposed Whitelightery charge; Raige killed a rocking P3 buzz with a dire warning regarding Pepper Anderson, The Best Policewoman In The History Of Forever, who had been blasted with some of Dead Bulging Brody's magical fairy dust after rising from her coma; Piper reminded Raige that Pepper's memory could come roaring back at any second; and Zankou buzzed out of his Underworld prison to absorb the dread Woogy, which instead infected the Dolt, who then blasted Zankou onto his tantalizing, leather-clad ass.
Currently on The Whore Lived Like A Phoebe, we fade up on a crowded Berkeley quad before heading inside a nearby parking garage, where a former male model is in the middle of changing one of the rear tires on Phoebe's car. "Can you hand me the tire iron?" His Hotness asks the Feebs. "Uh, yeah!" she perks, passing His Hotness a lug bolt. Oooo-kay. We can play this one of two ways, kids. With the first option, we pretend they included a bit of dialogue wherein it becomes apparent Phoebe's playing dumb with the big, strong, disturbingly attractive lunkhead of a former male model not only because she equates incompetence with desirability for some reason and is flirting with him, but also because she doesn't want to get axle grease and San Francisco street grime all over her clothes, because otherwise we're going to have to forget that Phoebe is a tire-repair expert. With the second option, we hurl heavy objects at the TV while cursing everyone and everything associated with this stupid fucking show, all the while howling in despair at the thought of an eighth goddamned season. It's your call. Oh, and look at that! In an entirely unexpected Burst Of Cleansing Synchronicity, Phoebe and His Hotness discuss cognitive dissonance. Welcome to the club, assholes. Well, maybe we'll limit the name-calling to Phoebe, because "Tim" certainly is a tasty little thing. Besides, he's not long for this world. Ooops! Spoiler!
In any event, after way too much of the saucy banter, Tasty Tim and the Feebs finally make plans for a dinner date just as an obese ninja, um, clots into a far corner of the parking garage. What? These inky-black blobs of transportation mojo materialize in the air and clot together into the ninja's fat form. Seriously. What am I supposed to call it? God, do you remember when dark demonic forces sent from the flaming maw of Hell just blinked into a room? Or squiggled? Those were the days. Anyway, Tasty Tim spots the new arrival first and, stunned at the demon's appearance, whispers, "Whoa!" As last words go, it certainly leaves something to be desired, but he's hot, so who cares? Fat Ninja bursts into a cloud of demonic bits that retains his overall form as it super-speeds across the concrete to Tasty Tim's side. Fat Ninja then just as quickly solidifies and slashes open the left side of Tasty Tim's face with one of the sets of Freddy Krueger shears he sports on each hand. Poor Tasty Tim. We hardly knew ye. Fat Ninja targets the Feebs, but she hoots and yodels and kicks him into a springy stretch of chain-link that bounces the demon onto a conveniently well-placed length of rebar jutting from the floor, and demon go boom. Once the subsequent wails and flames have dissipated, an increasingly panicked Feebs kneels at Tasty Tim's side, calling out his name. Tasty Tim does not answer, for although he received no more than a series of slight gashes on the side of his face, he is now a corpse. A very, very pretty corpse, but a corpse all the same. Maybe he hit his head really, really hard when he fell to the floor? Oh, whatever. Like I care. Phoebe's frantic screams for help echo into the opening credits.
The gorgeous opening travelogue is brutally marred by an ovary who seems -- how shall I put this? -- non-native to the English language. "I know what you did like a boy of summer gives his first kiss," the ovary opens, and it gets worse from there. "Love is dancing on my finger," it continues, "you got to the heart of the matter and linger." I...uh...gah...that...WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN? WOULD SOMEBODY PLEASE TELL ME WHAT IN GOD'S NAME THAT'S SUPPOSED TO MEAN? AUAUAUAAAAAGGH! Too early for an aneurysm. Too early for an aneurysm. Too early for an aneurysm. Okay. Whew. Damn, that was close. The travelogue ovary finally begins to make something resembling sense when it whines, "We're back in San Francisco, and you tell me I'm home!" just as the camera pans across the Manor façade. Which is actually on Carroll Avenue in Angelino Heights. In Los Angeles. Shut up, ovary. Up in the nonexistent attic, a quietly distraught Phoebe abuses the Book of Shadows as Piper enters from the upper hall. "What happened?" Piper asks, sisterly concern flooding every syllable. "[Raige] called and said you were attacked!" "I wasn't," Phoebe glumly admits, "a guy from my class was. He's dead." "Oh, God," Piper sighs sympathetically as she and Phoebe cross to Aunt Pearl's sofa to process through Phoebe's battered emotions, or something. Phoebe has learned that the monster responsible for so rudely offing such a hot piece of tail before the opening credits was a "Raptor Demon." "A hired gun," she clarifies. "Hired by whom?" Piper eyebrows. Phoebe doesn't have an answer for that, naturally, but she does let Piper know that Raige has fled to Not!warts in search of a lead. Because she's certain to find one there. Whatever. What's even more annoying than the invocation of Not!warts is that Phoebe promptly makes Tasty Tim's demise All About Her when she sighs, "He asked me out on a date for tomorrow night -- just my luck, huh?" like, bitch, I think the poor guy losing his life is a tiny bit worse than you losing a free dinner, you hateful, self-centered pig.
"Phoebe, stop it," Piper sighs, and I'd agree wholeheartedly, were Piper not for some reason enabling her wretched hag of a sister. "It's not like you're cursed or something." "We don't know that!" Phoebe blurts as she rises from the sofa and crosses to another table to flip through a few more reference books. "I might be cursed!" "We don't even know what's going on, here," Piper reminds her. "[Tasty] Tim could have been a witch, or another demon." "Definitely not a demon," Phoebe quietly insists. Piper continues with the boring pep-talk for a lengthy period of time before rising from the couch herself to suggest that Phoebe have Detective Doormat run a background check on the deceased male model. "And maybe," she adds a bit tentatively, "you should go to the morgue to see if you can get a premonition from his body?" "I really don't want to see him," Phoebe protests. "What if it's the only way to find out why he was killed?" Piper softly counters. Phoebe finally drags herself out her funk to snap, "Okay!" "You keep checking the Book," she instructs as she turns to exit the nonexistent room. Piper widens her eyes a bit at Phoebe's peevish tone, but does offer the hag a soothing "sure" in response as she watches Phoebe disappear down the stairs. Piper turns and approaches the Book's stand with outstretched hands, but just as she's about to touch the thing, the Book flares and violently snaps shut of its own accord, in the process sending out a burst of self-protective energy that knocks Piper onto her ass halfway across the room. The hell? Piper gazes at the Book from the floor for a long moment before -- get this -- cocking a brow, smirking, "Impressive," and morphing into Zankou! Woo! They haven't pulled a fake-out that sweet on this show in three years, and even then, they were only able to maintain the ruse for fifteen seconds before the Sole revealed himself. To make it through two whole minutes of airtime without dropping any hint at all that Piper's not quite herself? Unprecedented on this show. Sadly. In any event, Hot Zankou, still on the floor, qualifies, "Most impressive," before adding with a grin, "but you'll learn to like me yet." With that, Zankou blazes out of the nonexistent room as the camera pans over to the Book's triquatra-embossed cover to linger for a moment, before cutting down to...
...Hell. I think. Deep within some sort of demonic ossuary, John Kassir strokes a bone before wandering over to the camera, and too close! Back away! Back away now! Dude! Why couldn't they have cast Colin Egglesfield in this role, and had John Kassir be the one to bite it in the pre-credits sequence? Charmed hates me. Especially because the last time I saw John Kassir, he was sporting a harness and a pair of assless chaps while Kristen Bell rode him like a pneumatic, rubber-clad jockey. Not a pleasant mental image, I can assure you. Eccch. In any event, as Kassir's best known as the voice of the Crypt Keeper, and as his character never receives a name during this evening's festivities, and as we are now, you know, in an actual crypt, I shall be calling him "Corpse Fucker" for the remainder of the recap. You can thank me later. Zankou soon enough blazes into the chamber to pretty things up considerably. Thanks, Zankou! "Where's the body?" Corpse Fucker demands. "Why didn't you bring it?" "Patience, my old friend!" Zankou croons as he strides across the chamber floor to greet Corpse Fucker with a genial grin. "Have I ever failed to deliver on a promise?" he asks rhetorically. "I don't know," Corpse Fucker huffily sniffs as he crosses to Zankou's side. "It's been an eternity since we worked together." The two boys rather adorably reminisce about the Crusades and the September Massacre for a bit before getting down to business. Corpse Fucker wants to "get on with it already," but Zankou insists rather forcefully, "No!" "It's taken me months to get this far," he exposits. "I'm not going to blow it all now by moving too quickly." Corpse Fucker easily justifies his nickname when he apologetically simpers, "You gotta understand -- when the dead are involved, I get a little...excited." I should be sickened and repulsed by that, I know, but you have to realize I'm actually far more surprised that it's taken this shitty show seven years to dabble in necrophilia. God knows there's little else left for them to exploit at this point. And yet, we have another year of this garbage to look forward to, don't we? Sigh.
In any event, Zankou, after chiding Corpse Fucker for the latter's lack of ambition, or something, eventually details a bit of his masterful plan for the evening. He's "studied the sisters" for the better part of a season, you see, and with the knowledge he's gained, he now intends to "shake them to their core" and "make them more vulnerable than they've ever been." "So that's why you had Phoebe's friend killed!" Corpse Fucker realizes, because killing someone Phoebe's known for less than two weeks -- while she was thoughtlessly exploiting him as slave labor to fix her car -- is certain to leave her more vulnerable than she's ever been in her life. "Seemed a little petty of you," Corpse Fucker adds, ignoring me completely and more amused than anything else, "[but] do you really think that's enough to make them vulnerable?" No, you sick twist. See above. And shut up while you're at it. "Of course not," Zankou pffts, though for different reasons. "If I'm going to get what I'm after," he admits as the camera tracks in towards his face, in the process mercifully reducing Corpse Fucker to a visually incoherent blur in the background, "I'm going to have to attack them all -- not as witches, but as women." Some terribly ominous strings thrum on the soundtrack as the shot lingers on Hot Zankou for a long moment before cutting up to...
...Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World, where Detective Doormat agrees via his cell phone to meet Phoebe at the morgue, despite some grave misgivings. "This is not a good idea," he opines as he swings around the corner into the main room, where the Dazzling Sheila -- absolutely stunning in a form-fitting royal blue satin cocktail dress -- pops up from a chair to greet him. "Ready to go?" she beams. The Doormat wearily snaps his cell shut and prepares to disappoint his long-suffering wife yet again. The Dazzling Sheila's face falls as she realizes the Doormat's bailing on her in favor of the sisters for what has to be the 2476th time in the last seven years, but she does kindly enough wonder if the gals are okay. No answer on that from the Doormat as of yet, however, for Pepper Anderson powers over at this point with a curt "We need to talk -- it seems the Halliwells reported yet another suspicious murder." "You know what, Inspector Sheridan?" the Doormat dodges, awkwardly avoiding the topic. "You've met my wife Sheila, haven't you?" "No!" Pepper replies, instantly flipping from ill-mannered to gracious while extending her hand with a broad smile on her face. The Dazzling Sheila accepts it with a cautious and somewhat confused, "Actually we did -- six months ago at the medals ceremony?" Oh, Sheila. Why you gotta screw with the already fucked-up timeline on this show? As we shall shortly learn, it's poor, neglected, and doomed Tiny Gay Chris's first birthday, which means that six months ago, Pepper Anderson was still in her freaking coma. I think. I'm pretty sure. Oh, fuck it. I so don't care anymore, and this show can kiss my goddamned ass. In any event, Pepper flutters for a moment, then admits to having "memory problems" as of late. The Doormat, perhaps realizing his wife's presence might hurl Pepper into a dangerous flashback, shoots his partner a promise to phone her in the morning before dragging the Dazzling Sheila from the room. "What happened to her?" the Dazzling Sheila wonders suspiciously once Pepper's out of earshot. "You don't want to know," the Doormat bumbles. Sheila crosses her arms in front of her and demands, "What aren't you telling me?" The Doormat just pecks her on the cheek and flees. The Dazzling Sheila pivots to glare at her husband's retreating form as he vanishes down the precinct's hall.
Manor. Piper staggers through the front door with poor, doomed Tiny Gay Chris and a couple of shopping bags, bellowing for her sisters while bitching about traffic on the freeways the entire time. The Dolt trails her into the foyer with the dead-eyed Psycho, and I so do not care about their transportation issues now that they've given up, as the Dolt puts it, "the cosmic taxi" in favor of a normal life, so let's get to the point of this scene already, okay? And no, despite the howls of outraged protest the decision elicited from some on the forum boards, the point of this scene is not that Piper so thoughtlessly decides to cancel Tiny Gay Chris's birthday party in light of Tasty Tim's death. The point of this scene is actually Raige's NIPPLES, which arrive in the main hall from above about three minutes prior to their support system's own entrance, and are now threatening to poke Tiny Gay Chris's eyes right out of his ginormous head. Seriously, Raige: Bra. NOW. ANY-way, long story short, Piper's ignorance of Phoebe's trip to the morgue befuddles Raige for a moment, as Raige was under the impression that Piper herself encouraged Phoebe to go in the first place. This should, of course, set off all sorts of warning bells in the gals' minds because of their recent experiences with shape-shifters, but because everyone present is a complete fucking retard, it doesn't. Instead, Piper and Raige repair to the sun porch to perch on the wicker furniture and fret about Phoebe's Issues for a moment before Raige rises to orb off for a meeting with her new charge, "Joanna." Joanna's backstory is grindinglyfamiliar, so I'll be skipping over it in favor of...skipping to the scene, actually. Hooray for recycled plotlines!PreviousNext
Over at the coroner's office, Phoebe and Detective Doormat clomp through the halls as the Doormat warns Phoebe about Pepper Anderson's mounting suspicions. Phoebe, supposedly so disheartened by Tasty Tim's death that she no longer gives a rat's ass about Pepper Anderson, blows him off and plows past the Doormat to enter an examining room. The Doormat heaves a beleaguered sigh and follows, eventually leading Phoebe over to a black body bag lying atop a gurney. The Doormat unzips the thing, and the instant Phoebe glimpses the garish gashes on Pasty Tim's face, she spins around to gag into her hand, and I'm not buying one second of this crap at all. Two weeks. She knew this guy for two weeks, people. Yeah, he's hot, but please. Whatever. Phoebe eventually pulls herself together and places a hand on the corpse to force a premonition. Nothing happens. The Doormat, meanwhile, examines the body and guesses, "It looks like somebody was trying to send a message." "What?" Phoebe gasps, shocked at this supposition. "Why would you say that?" "It's vicious, it's calculated," the Doormat explains, "I see this all the time -- it's like it makes you think twice when you see him, and maybe that's the point. Do demons send messages like this?" he wonders. Phoebe, increasingly wrecked by the entire experience, which...no, because see above, and shut up, Phoebe, bleats, "Well, if it is a message, it's obviously for me." Because everything is All About Phoebe. Hag. With that, the Feebs spins on her heel and charges out of the room. The Doormat takes a long moment, zips the bag closed over Pasty Tim's face, and follows Phoebe through the swinging metal doors into the hallway beyond. The instant the Doormat's gone, Zankou blazes into the room, followed shortly by Corpse Fucker. "Poor Phoebe!" Zankou giggles. "So troubled, and it's only gonna get worse for her!" Hee! Oh, pretty please, Zankou? Don't be making me promises you can't keep, now. You know I've always had your back. Corpse Fucker, continuing to irritate, natters something vaguely disgusting and definitely dumb before ambling over to Pasty Tim's body bag. "Can it be done?" Zankou asks, following Corpse Fucker to the gurney. Corpse Fucker unzips the bag, takes a deep whiff, and sneers, "Rigor hasn't set in -- it's barely a challenge." "Then let's get to work," Zankou shrugs. He stretches his arms out with his palms hovering over Pasty Tim's body, and presently, Zankou's hands emit a pale pink glow that quickly suffuses the corpse. Before we get a chance to witness the glow's effects, however, the scene cuts to...
...the hallway outside, where Phoebe, on her cell with Raige, insists, "I'm telling you, it's the only thing that makes sense -- Tim was killed because he was with me!" Raige's NIPPLES, over at P3, argue that Phoebe can't be certain of that, and assure her that there must be some other explanation. "Well, I'm open to suggestions!" Phoebe shrieks as the Doormat shuffles over to her side to suggest they get their asses out of the morgue, pronto. Phoebe places a dismissive and condescendingly quieting hand on his chest before returning her attention to Raige, who insists, "When I get home, we will figure out who sent the demon." "You need to get some rest," Raige counsels. "That would be the best thing for you right now." Phoebe scoffs at the very idea of rest when she's the reason Tasty Tim's dead, and I quite simply cannot listen to her continue to make this all about her, so I'll skip ahead to the point where she stalks away from the Doormat in frustration and the camera cuts back over to P3, and wow. I totally don't care about this scene at all, either. You see, Raige has rejoined her new charge at the bar, and this Whitelighter-of-the-future Joanna person turns out to be a weak-willed dumbass with low self-esteem and an abusive boyfriend. Boring! Well, except for the boyfriend himself, who appears at this moment to drag Joanna out of the bar, and I'm only saying that because "Carl" here is nearly as tasty a morsel as Tim was. You know a storyline sucks ass when the only interesting thing about it is the himbo they tossed in to fill out the supporting cast. Raige shoots daggers at Carl with her eyes while Joanna makes some tedious excuses for the boyfriend's behavior before clattering out of the club on her tipply heels. Raige grimaces in frustration. Shut it, Muggy.
Meanwhile, rain lashes against the nighttime Manor façade as lightning crackles across the sky. Up in the Prue Halliwell Memorial Bimbo Boudoir Of Paisley Tit Slings And Other Fashion Atrocities, currently occupied by the slumbering Phoebe, the lady in question tosses restlessly from her side onto her back while the camera swoops up over the bed. As lightning flashes through the window, Phoebe flips around some more and quite unexpectedly finds herself face-to-face with Pasty Tim's recumbent and reanimated corpse. Zombie Tim snaps open his now milky eyes and sneers, "It was your fault!" Phoebe screams in terror and jumps from the bed to the far side of the room. "I died because of you," The Timbie spits, pushing himself to his knees before leaping to the floor with a seething "And now I'm gonna make you pay!" With that, he lunges at the petrified Feebs and slams her against the wall, throttling her scrawny neck with one of his rather large hands. Phoebe manages to shove him back towards the bed and races to fling open the boudoir door to find Piper and the Dolt rushing towards her just as another flash of lightning illuminates the room. "What is it?" Piper cries, almost as panicked as the Feebs. "He's trying to kill me!" Phoebe shrieks, caroming between her sister and brother-in-law as she plunges through the doorway into the hall. Piper extends a wary arm into the room and flicks on the lights. The boudoir is empty. "Who?" the Dolt dims, staring at the rumpled and blameless bed. Phoebe gasps and wordlessly heaves the Fun Bags into the commercial break.
The following morning, Piper enters the center parlor from the kitchen with a mug of something comforting that she passes to the Feebs, the latter of whom has curled up on one of the sofas for a dejected processing summit with her sisters. "I'm telling you, he was there," Phoebe maintains, "and he blamed me for letting him die." "And you're sure you didn't just dream this?" Raige asks from the depths of one of the overstuffed armchairs. "Yeah, I'm sure!" Phoebe snots. "How many times do I have to tell you that?" Bitch. As she eases herself into another chair, Piper suggests -- in tones far more pacifying than I'd ever be able to muster in the same situation -- that it's "a valid question, considering [the Dolt] and I didn't see anybody in your room." "That doesn't mean he wasn't there," Phoebe grumps.
Piper and Raige wax psychological for a dimwitted moment before the Dolt arrives from the attic with some relevant information. "I found something on the undead here in the Book," he explains, lugging the thing over to the coffee table. "Demonic alchemists have the ability to control the undead but lack the power to bring them back to life -- they need an upper-level demon for that." And that's...not what we saw with the last demonic alchemist to appear on this godforsaken program, but this show sucks, so whatever. Just go with it, for it is always easier when you just go with it. "So now we're looking for two demons?" Piper snorts, even though she of all people should remember that neither Piggy nor the Slut required the assistance of an upper-level demon to raise the dead. Gah. "Which means [The Timbie] will be back," Phoebe glums, paying me no mind, "because he wants to make me pay." "Who knows?" she adds with aggravating amounts of self-pity. "Maybe I deserve it." Well, if you insist upon giving me an opening like that, hon, I'm pretty much compelled to take it and note both that there's no "maybe" about it and that you've had it coming to you for four goddamned years. Hag. "Phoebe, come on," Piper chides, "if the demons are behind this and they're controlling [The Timbie], they're just trying to freak you out." "It's working!" Phoebe snorts. "Which is exactly why you need to get back to business as usual," Piper argues, "before you drive yourself crazy." Piper, Raige, and the Dolt prevail upon Phoebe to head into All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me, but not before Phoebe elicits a promise from them all to fetch her the moment they locate the corpse fucker responsible. As Phoebe disappears upstairs, Raige's cell rings, and it's wimpy Joanna, who apparently had an enormous row with her abusive boyfriend, so Raige needs to motor on over to Joanna's apartment to deal with the fallout. "A lovers' spat?" Piper eyebrows. "Is that really something her Whitelighter needs to deal with, especially right now?" Raige reveals she's been picking up a terribly creepy vibe from Carl, and as she's afraid he might physically harm Joanna, she thinks it's for the best if she heads over to Joanna's immediately. Piper agrees. As Raige vanishes, Piper turns to the Dolt with, "We should call [the Doormat] and make sure that [The Timbie's] body is still in the morgue." The Dolt wiggles his eyebrows at the wife. "Or...not?" Piper offers.
Hell. Pasty Tim lies on a slab while Corpse Fucker strokes Pasty Tim's clammy skin and practically creams himself. Ew. Much of the subsequent scene involves John Kassir making with similarly inappropriate, vile, and unamusing necrophiliac schtick, so I'll be skimming through it to pull out the relevant bits. Zankou summons from points unknown a massive metal casket containing the remains of someone who died "four years ago." He intends, you see, to reanimate the corpse within to further eat away at Phoebe's self-confidence by forcing her to deal with the putrefying remnants of yet another innocent she "lost" "in the eternal fight." No, it's not Prue. Were you paying no attention to the guest scroll at the top of the hour? Don't be silly. Though Zombie Prue quite literally ripping Phoebe a new one over that wall incident would kick all kinds of ass, wouldn't it? Sigh. So many missed opportunities. In any event, Phoebe's deepening doubt should spread to infect her sisters, starting with Raige, for whom Zankou promises "a crisis of faith" at the very moment she finds herself most vulnerable. From there, the wave of Zombie-related angst should engulf Piper, allowing Zankou to achieve his primary objective for the evening: Possession of the Book of Shadows. "The sisters and the Book of Shadows are linked," Zankou explains, "and by weakening them, I'll weaken the Book's defenses, too, enough to make it mine." Yeah, it makes no sense. Just gaze upon the hotness that is Oded Fehr in a nicely tailored black leather jacket and go with it, okay?
Morgue. The Doormat barrels through the examining room's doors and splutters to a halt when he spots Pasty Tim's empty body bag. "Dammit!" he mutters. "I figured you'd come by sooner or later," Pepper Anderson calls out casually enough from the far side of the room, and what the hell? She just guessed he'd drop by at some point, so she's been lounging around a roomful of reeking corpses for God knows how long just waiting for him to arrive? Christ, this show sucks. And wow, I do not care about the scene that follows at all. Pepper Anderson basically calls the Doormat on his bullshit and reminds him that whatever he's doing for the Manor Morons now threatens his career, his family, and his freedom. Why, at this point, the Doormat does not come clean and arrange for a summit meeting between Pepper Anderson and the Glamorous Ladies is beyond me. Hundreds of mortals have been made privy to their supposed secret over the years, and everything's always worked out in the end. Why should Pepper Anderson be any different? She shouldn't, is the answer to that damn question, and as a result, this entire contrived storyline is nothing more than a massive pain in my ass. Shut up, Pepper.
Over in Joanna's fifth-floor walkup on the Lower East Side, we arrive to find Joanna bemoaning her miserable lot in life, for she is one of those women who finds happiness only when she's in a relationship no matter how fucking screwed that relationship is, and Joanna may die at her earliest convenience, because I now loathe her more than I've ever hated any supposed innocent on this show, but more than Joanna, I hate the idiot writers who penned this embarrassment of a character in the first place. HATE. Raige lumbers through a toothless pep-talk until she's interrupted by a call from Piper, who passes along the latest information regarding Pasty Tim's whereabouts. As they now have confirmation that they're dealing with zombies, Raige needs to fetch Phoebe from the paper and return to the Manor immediately. Raige whines something about leaving Joanna alone during this, her hour of emotional need, but Raige, honey. Really. Joanna is a sucking black hole of emotional need. I don't care how many times the ever-useless Elders regaled you with tales of her superwonderful specialness and spectacular Whitelightery future. Cut your losses now. Raige pays me no mind, but does jump to follow Piper's order that she return to the Manor posthaste. Raige snaps shut her phone and turns to leave, instructing Joanna to bolt the door behind her. Under no circumstances is Joanna to allow Carl into the apartment. However, if need be, Joanna can summon Raige just by calling out Raige's name. Oh, oops. Forgot to mention that Joanna, for some asinine reason, has no idea Raige is a Whitelighter. Then again, I don't care, because we all know this limp bint's going to turn up as one of the corpse fucker's sticky meat puppets in about ten minutes, right? Right. So, anyway, Joanna locks the door and turns to gaze forlornly upon her lonely little flat. Shut up, loser. "What's the matter, Joanna?" Carl mutters darkly from the depths of the apartment. "I thought you loved being alone with me," he teases as he saunters in from the bedroom beyond. "How did you get in here?" Joanna demands. Carl scowls, crosses his arms, and sneers, "Magic!" before morphing into a decidedly more amused Zankou. Bad, that. The actors involved should have coordinated their expressions for that bit. In any event, Joanna freaks and races to the door, but Zankou quickly latches onto her shoulder and spins her around to snatch at her by the throat. Joanna puckers like a landed trout. Shut UP, Joanna. "'[Raige]'?" Zankou almost whispers. "Is that who you were trying to call out for?" he calmly continues as Joanna goggles and chokes. "Well, I'm afraid [Raige] has abandoned you," Zankou croons, quite casually pushing Joanna off the floor and into the air, "but if it makes you feel any better, I'm sure she'll be very upset she had to miss this." The camera lingers on his cool menace for a moment before allowing Zankou to vanish into the commercial break. Woof.
All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me, and oh, sweet Jesus. The scene begins with Phoebe shoving a stack outgoing mail into the face of some reject from The Starlet, and everything goes downhill from there, especially when Raige orbs into Phoebe's office in front of the open blinds to listen to Phoebe babble guiltily about Pasty Tim for nine and a half hours before taking approximately three days herself to offer some tedious and unwelcome words of advice, and...scene? Oh, thank God. Scene.
Hell. Zankou's resurrecting the four-year-old corpse with his glowy pink hands, and it's Reese Davidson. You know, the guy who investigated ADA Turner's mysterious disappearance when the Colethazor had to go into hiding after he offed the Triad? The guy who got his brains sucked out by that one demon, in that one burial vault, because the Angel of Death needed to teach Prue a lesson on the inevitability of Fate, or something? Yeah. Him. A person everyone disregarded four years ago, a person no one's thought about since, and a person none of us ever needed to see on this show again. And the really asinine thing about this scene is that they insist upon keeping the guy's zombified head shrouded in shadow, like we're all supposed to gasp in shock and horror, "Oh my God! It's Reese!" when they finally roll around to the reveal, when the only possible reaction involves a sort of listless ennui. Assuming everyone wasn't already asleep by this point. Gah. In any event, Corpse Fucker flicks a little mojo at the zombie's head so we can flash back to the moment of his death with him, and seriously: If we didn't care about it then, why do the idiots responsible for this mess think we're going to give a rat's ass about it now? Can you believe they scripted, shot, and edited together this garbage when they believed there was an excellent chance this would be the second-to-last episode ever? Oh, wait a minute. The morons responsible for Enterprise scripted, shot, and edited together something far worse when they knew for a fact it was the actual last episode ever, so I guess these things happen all the time. On the Paramount lot. Assholes. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah: Another mojo-triggered flashback recounts a piece of the diner scene wherein Phoebe dumpedactual bat shitinto this guy's coffee, and now that I think about it, maybe he does have the right to hold a tiny bit of a grudge. In any event, Zankou sweet-talks Zombeese into guilt-tripping the Feebs, or something. And...scene.
Meanwhile, up in the Manor kitchen, Piper's preparing a vanquish for the corpse fucker on the center island while Raige explains why she believes Zankou's behind this evening's undead hijinks. Phoebe, perched on the counter by the sink, chimes in to admit that she should have just listened to what Piper had to say the morning in the nonexistent attic. Piper's eyes widen in surprise at this, leading Phoebe to realize rather quickly that she must actually have been chatting with the shape-shifting demon in question. "How do I know this is you now?" Phoebe demands, hopping off the counter to get all up in Piper's face. "How do I know you're not Zankou right now?" "Because I'm not!" Piper sings, offended. "Prove it!" Phoebe snaps. "Jake Singer," Piper deadpans, "back seat, tenth grade. Slut." She might have left off that last bit, but I'm not going to rewind to find out. Phoebe blithers something about losing what's left of her scattered little mind as she flounces out of the kitchen to abuse the Book of Shadows for a Zankou vanquish. Piper and Raige, thus left alone, babble for a bit about their steps until the Dolt bumbles into the room to confirm that he's called "all [their] friends" to cancel poor, neglected Tiny Gay Chris's birthday party. Raige glooms something about that before orbing off to check on her spineless, sniveling, and presumably dead charge. Piper and the Dolt shoot significant side-eyes at each other.
House Of The Dead Dud. Raige knocks a couple of times, calling out Joanna's name until she realizes the door's unlocked. Raige barges in to discover Joanna's battered corpse sprawled on the carpet. Pity. Not. When Raige drops to the floor in dismay, Zankou's revealed to have been lurking in the hall behind her, a slight smile of satisfaction playing across his face. Zankou lingers for a moment before blazing out as Raige strokes Joanna's hair, repeatedly sobbing, "I'm so sorry!" as we dissolve into yet another commercial break.
Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World. The Doormat lopes through the swinging doors to find the Dazzling Sheila sitting with Pepper Anderson, and he immediately gets this hysterical "Oh. Shit!" look on his face when the Dazzling Sheila wheels around in her chair to glare at him. Turns out Pepper Anderson summoned Sheila for a little talk and filled the latter in on all of the Doormat's supposedly suspicious behavior over the last few weeks, noting that at the rate things are going, the Doormat should soon find himself in jail. Needless to say, Sheila is pissed. Pepper snidely takes her leave so the two soon-to-be-bickering marrieds can chat in private, and Sheila immediately lights into the Doormat in a hushed, whispered, intense argument that ends with Sheila issuing the following ultimatum: "It's our family or theirs." The Doormat blinks.
Back at the Manor, Raige, who'd been attempting to reach the Doormat via his cell during the scene, slams the cordless down on one of the wicker tables on the sun porch and crosses to the love seat to bitch, "How could he not answer?" "I'm beginning to think he can't help anyway," Piper breathes as the Dolt furrows his scarily gargantuan gargoyle head in concern. Raige proceeds to beat herself up over Joanna's untimely demise and vows to see Carl put away for life for what he did to her luckless protégé, until Piper calmly notes that "Carl" was likely Zankou all along. "Zankou?" the Dolt bugs. "It has to be him," Piper explains. "First Phoebe's friend, and now her charge?" she continues, nodding her head ever so slightly in Raige's direction. "It can't be a coincidence," she concludes. "He's targeting the people in our lives." "What good would that do him?" the Dolt wonders. "Maybe he thinks if we're rattled enough," Piper correctly guesses, "we'll be vulnerable." Raige reminds Piper that none of her own associates have yet been targeted, allowing Piper an opening to propose that Raige orb the kids and the Dolt to Not!warts immediately on the extremely likely chance they're on Zankou's list. The Dolt protests that he'll not just turn tail and flee, but Piper, with near tranquil determination, rises to her feet to insist. The Dolt caves and heads upstairs to fetch the boys. "What about the other people in your life?" Raige wonders once the Dolt is gone. What other people in her life, Raige? There aren't any. Hell, the only reason Zankou had anyone to kill for you and Phoebe is because the writers decided to toss two heretofore unseen and unheard-of sacrificial lambs into the script for that very purpose. God, this show sucks! Piper, ignoring me, replies, "The best way to protect them is to get to Zankou, and for that we need Phoebe." And just where is that bony skank, anyway?
Oh, there she is! Falling asleep over the Book of Shadows up in the nonexistent attic! As Phoebe nods off, some off-screen presence flicks off the main lights, leaving only the tiny desk lamp at Phoebe's side still burning. Phoebe starts awake at the creak of a floorboard and sleepily calls out, "Piper?" "Guess again!" Zombeese seethes from over by the doorway. "Who are you?" Phoebe gasps. "What do you want?" "What you took from me!" Zombeese bellows as he strides over to confront her. "My life!" Riiiiiight. And you'll be getting that back from Phoebe...how, exactly? And have we already forgotten about the demons who actually sucked out your brain? Oh, wait. My bad. They sucked out your brain, so of course your short-term memory isn't what it should be. Never mind. Phoebe leaps to her feet in alarm as Zombeese snarls, "What's the matter? Don't you recognize me?" Dude, not for nothing, but why the hell would she? First of all, you were an utterly forgettable presence in three episodes four years ago. Secondly, what with all the crap the makeup people glued to your face in a poorly executed imitation of postmortem decay, your own goddamned mother wouldn't recognize you right now. And finally? Shut the fuck up, zombie man. He doesn't listen to me. Bastard. In fact, he grabs Phoebe's arm as she tries to escape and blathers on and on and on about his widowed bride and his fatherless children and dude, really. WE NEVER CARED THEN AND WE SURE AS HELL DO NOT CARE NOW. Cork it already! Eventually, at long, long last, Phoebe breaks free of his clutches and tumbles headlong down the stairs to the second floor, where she races through the hall screaming for her sisters; Zombeese lurches along behind her until he's suddenly yanked from the scene by Zankou in a burst of raying pink light. "Piper!" Phoebe shouts, pulling her sister from the nursery towards the back of the house. "He's right behind me! Get him!" Piper gingerly pokes her head around the corner with her mighty Hands of Discontent at the ready and, of course, finds nothing to vanquish. "There's no one there," Piper narrates for the blind in the audience. "He was there," Phoebe pants, "I swear it." "Who?" Piper delicately inquires. Upon hearing the zombie's name, Piper's all, "But he was just a glorified day player, wasn't he? They relegated to the end credits, for Christ's sake! Why the hell would anyone dig him up now?" Phoebe has no answer for Piper's quite reasonable questions, and so remains stricken and mute. Shut up, Phoebe.
Nonexistent Attic. Zankou blazes in and approaches the Book of Shadows, which now, rather than flipping him halfway across the floor, merely erects a mojo bubble for itself much like the dead-eyed Psycho used to do back in the day. So, I guess this means it's weakened, or something. Yawn. "I guess I'm gonna have to kick things up a notch," Zankou muses to himself. You do that, doll. You do that. Also: DUN! Also also: Commercial!
Nonexistent Attic. Piper and Phoebe tiptoe into the nonexistent room, confirm that no zombies are currently lurking in the shadows, and call out for Raige, who immediately orbs in from Not!warts. As Piper believes Joanna's on Zankou's zombification list, she sets Raige to scrying for the dead dingbat's corpse, and the crystal soon enough plows down upon a set of map coordinates located in the middle of one of the city's larger cemeteries. "Not good," Phoebe groans. Again: Shut UP, Phoebe.
Corpse Fucker's Underground Emporium Of Slightly Sticky Meat Puppets. Joanna's corpse lies on a bier in the foreground of the shot as Raige orbs into the center of the chamber with Piper and Phoebe, the latter of whom protectively clutches a vanquishing vial against her left Fun Bag. "Ohmigod!" Raige breathes, catching sight of Joanna's body. "That's her!" Zombanna immediately snaps open her milky eyes and grins, "Miss me?" Zombeese and The Timbie instantly appear behind the gals to make with the menacing and such, and why is Tim's previously blinding array of choppers so yellow all of a sudden? He's been dead for less than a day. Whatever. Like I care. The Glamorous Gals, thus surrounded by the undead, babble at each other until Corpse Fucker joins the party with three more zombies. Piper squints at the new arrivals and whispers, "Those are all innocents I've lost!" Of course, she identifies none of them by name, and so the emotional impact of her realization amounts to precisely nothing for the audience. Quite frankly, it seems to amount to precisely nothing for her, as well. Let's say I give her the benefit of a doubt and assume she already realizes what she'll have to do to get out of this situation, okay? And while I'm off on a tangent, has Piper even lost one innocent who left behind a corpse suitable for zombification? I mean, the vast majority of innocents on this show are immolated by Flaming Balls Of Death. Zankou's pretty keen bitchen and all, but I doubt even he could reanimate a dust cloud.
In any event, Zombeese snarls something stupid, but that's not important, because The Timbie takes this opportunity to hoist Phoebe into the air and slam her across the chamber into a bone-filled urn, which she demolishes with her emaciated derriere. Hooray! Dazed by the impact, Phoebe also lets fall the vanquishing vial she'd so carefully been clutching to her implants. Meanwhile, Zombanna drops Raige with one well-placed blow to the head as Piper's supposed zombinnocents advance upon her while Corpse Fucker chuckles skeevily at it all. A terribly lackluster bout of hand-to-desiccated-claw combat follows, with Zombanna beating Raige like a redheaded stepchild with a skeletal femur, Zombeese and The Timbie flipping the Feebs onto a bier to throttle her, and Piper fending off her Anonybies with a torch until she finally realizes what a bullshit scene this is and cremates them with her mighty Hands. Oh, sorry. Actually, Piper, backed into a corner, pleads, "Don't make me do this!" before murmuring, "God help us!" and unleashing the Hands. Don't bother asking why she'd be so worried about toasting the soulless, rotting, demon-controlled shells of what these people once were, because you'll never get an answer for your question. Just know that Piper takes out her Anonybies one by one before Raige catches the snap and dusts Zombanna with a handy vanquishing vial. Corpse Fucker howls and wails in dismay as his slightly sticky meat puppets collapse into piles of ash on the floor. Finally, Piper takes out Zombeese and The Timbie, and I'll say it again: They really shouldn't have wasted a hot little number like Colin Egglesfield on such a throwaway role. I hate this show.
Phoebe hoots and yodels for a bit until she realizes she's free to leap to Piper's side and attempt to console her older sister with, "You had to." "We all did," Raige amends as she joins them, "except for, apparently, you, you bony fucking skank. Once again, one of us had to come through in a pinch to save your worthless ass." Or maybe she said the first three words and telepathically transmitted the rest. To me. Corpse Fucker makes some whinging noises about the wanton destruction of his slightly sticky meat puppets, but it doesn't matter at all, for at that moment Zankou suddenly appears in the chamber's stone stairwell to hurl a Flaming Ball Of Death at his supposed chum, who howls and wails and vanishes in a merry ball of fire towards The Waste Land. The Glamorous Ladies glare. "Served his purpose," Zankou shrugs. Heh. "Why would you do that?" Piper ices. Zankou broadens his grin, but remains silent. "What do you have to gain?" Piper restates, her voice rising. "You'll soon find out," Zankou twinkles as he vanishes in a pillar of flame. The Glamorous Ladies blink.
Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World, and BORING! Long story short, Pepper Anderson and her massive rack make with the threats again, some more, so the Doormat decides to take a vacation, but not before he warns her and her humongous mammaries not to take further action against the Manor Morons, who, he insists, are "above reproach." Pepper Anderson and her mondo-gigunda kachongas tell the Doormat to blow it out his ass.
Nonexistent Attic. The gals trudge in wearily from the upper stairwell, half-heartedly running through the very few vanquishing options they have for Zankou. Seems the spell they used on the Source is useless, Phoebe asserts, as Zankou "will be ready for that." Uh. Whatever. There's less than a minute left, so I'm not even going to bother with the stupidity of that statement, except to say this: Consider the puny little brain that produced it. Piper's more concerned over why Zankou vanquished Corpse Fucker himself. Raige proposes a little Book abuse to solve that particular conundrum, so the ladies turn their collective attention to the Book's stand. Which is empty. D'oh! "Zankou!" Raige uchs. "Yeah, but how did he get it?" Phoebe dims. "Doesn't matter," Piper duhs. "He's got it now." "The question," Raige sighs, dropping her head into her hand, "is what's he gonna do with it?"
Well, for starters, he's gonna sit on a bier down in the Underworld with the Book in his lap, giddily flipping through the pages while giggling, "Now the fun really begins!" God, I hope you're telling the truth, Zankou, 'cause I sure as hell can't take another episode as dull as this one.
Rather than fading to black, we actually fade to a "To Be Continued" title card. week: The season finale, which features public exposure of magic and a SWAT team and use of deadly force and is therefore entirely unlike "All Hell Breaks Loose." No, seriously. No. Seriously. Do you really believe they'd recycle the plotline from one of the best episodes they ever made? Whaddya think they are -- dumb or something?