The summer hiatus was too short.
You can tell we're in for a Very Special Episode Indeed, because instead of having one of the actresses narrate tonight's "Previously on Charmed" sequence, Brad Kern actually shelled out for The Velvety Voice Of The WB. Because that's such a smart use of the limited amount of money now available to him since the network slashed the show's production budget as a condition for its renewal. The special effects tonight should be gruesome. Oh, and Brad Kern sucks. Just thought I'd throw that in there, even though you all already knew that. In any event, The Velvety Voice Of The WB begins, "Last season onCharmed," as the glowy triquatra flips over to Phoebe informing Daddy Dearest Victor (Jones) Bennett that the Glamorous Ladies are in some pretty deep shit, followed by a shot of Raige looking damp. When The Velvety Voice continues, "Surrounded by the forces of the Underworld," Hot Zankou and his merry band of henchdemons (including the luscious and dewy-eyed Justin Baldoni, who is now on Everwood) flame and squiggle into the Manor parlor before Raige too jokingly admits she thinks there's no way out of their current situation. "And with the mortal world closing in," intones The Voice, as Agent Keyes and every law enforcement organization known to God and man storm Prescott Street to surround the house right before the astrally projected gals demolish Hot Zankou, "the Charmed Ones faked their own deaths." The pinched and unpleasant-looking Glamour Piper snaps her fingers and transforms the Dolt into a younger, yet similarly simian, variety of his regular dumb self. "Now," The Velvety Voice concludes, "Charmed Season Eight begins." Fuck you very much for reminding us all of the fact that this show is in its eighth goddamned season, Voice. You bastard.
Fade up on the camera vaulting one of the Marin County hills to take in the Golden Gate Bridge with the city basking in the sunlight beyond, and they've been using this same damn shot since the fourth season, at least. Either that or some genius of Michael Brown proportions has been in charge of the California Department of Transportation for the last decade, because that one section of the bridge's northern support still needs to be painted. Still. We cross-fade to the Manor façade for a lingering moment before heading indoors, where Daddy Dearest presides over a low-key memorial service in his presumably deceased daughters' honor. He's also thoughtfully set up a little table for that lippy bastard of a half-sister of theirs, too. Lots of somberly dressed people we've never seen before and shall never see again deposit white roses in front of large framed photographs of Piper, Phoebe, and Raige while wiping tears from their eyes. Yawn. Piper and Phoebe have dozens of flowers to their just-for-show cremation urns, but poor Raige has a mere three, including the one now placed by one of those fucking midgets she helped out a few years ago. Because the typewriting crack-monkeys are too fucking high to remember that Raige has an entire adoptive family wandering around the city. God, this show sucks.
The camera pulls back from the fucking midget to focus on a brunette with sharply tweezed brows and a harsh red slash for a mouth as she ambles over to Daddy Dearest and too-casually smirks, "Pretty good turnout, huh?" And as much as I hate this episode, I must give credit where credit is due: Dorian Brown so nailed Holly Marie Combs's vocal inflections and physical mannerisms with that one phrase that I knew immediately she was Glamour Piper. Good job, Ms. Brown. Now get yourself a better damn agent, because the one you have now isn't doing you any favors booking you onto bullshit like this. "Phoebe?" Daddy Dearest murmurs, confused. Dorian Brown, still with the excellent mimicry of Holly Marie Combs, exasperatedly sighs, "No, Dad. I'm Piper. That's Phoebe," as another skinny brunette joins the two in the main hall near several clusters of mourners. "I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MANY LEPRECHAUNS ARE AT MY URN," Glamour Phoebe blares, and I applaud you, too, Adrienne Wilkinson, for capturing Phoebe's complete lack of propriety and, oh, BRAINS in one line. "They always had the hots for you," Glamour Piper shrugs, and I mention that not because I really want to go there but because one of the stupid fucking midgets at Phoebe's urn is a woman. Take a moment to picture that little scenario and when you've finished vomiting, come on back here to continue with the recap. Don't worry. I can wait. I have all the time in the world.
Glamour Piper points out a grumpy-looking Agent Keyes in the main parlor before she, Glamour Feebs, and Daddy Dearest launch themselves into a tedious little bit of familial bickering over the gals' ever-changing appearances and how much the very concept of it all hurts poor Victor's head. After this has passed, Glamour Piper nods her head in the direction of Raige's altar on the dining room table and squints, "Poor [Raige] -- not a lot of people at her urn." "I know," Glamour Phoebe whines commiseratively. "Good thing she's not here to see that." And in the season's first Cleansing Burst Of Synchronicity, the black-clad and plastic-faced Janice Dickinson imperiously pushes her way through the mourners in the main hall to strut past Daddy Dearest and his girls. You know, when I first heard about this particular bit of stunt-casting, I was convinced she was going to blow. Then I read they were adding Kaley Cuoco to the cast and I stopped worrying about Janice Dickinson's acting ability and started worrying about my own sanity. Or, rather, the complete lack of sanity I'll be experiencing after recapping twenty-two episodes prominently featuring that empty-headed, simpering, talent-free bimbo. Ecccch. In any event, Glamour Phoebe, Glamour Piper, and the assembled guests are suitably shocked and appalled at the gory Halloween mask Janice Dickinson's been calling a face for the last couple of years, until the Glamoured Glams realize who Janice really is after the latter makes a great show of weeping over her BFF Raige. Do they expect us to believe Janice Dickinson can still leak real tears from her eyes after all that surgery? Get a grip, Charmed.
The Glamoured Glams push Janice Dickinson into the kitchen over Janice's howls of protest and her whole "Do you know who I am?" schtick. "Yeah, we do," Glamour Phoebe answers, and here we go with the gruesome effects shots already. A glaringly obvious green-screen of the Glamoured Gals looking supremely unamused lingers in the frame for about five minutes too long before Glamour Phoebe's assaulted by a swirling cloud of glowing golf balls and morphs into her regular Feeble self, and the NIPPLES! My God! It's bad enough that Milano's about fifteen cup sizes larger than Wilkinson and that they've slung all that into a frilly pink beater for this part of the evening's proceedings (like, that's appropriate for a funeral, NOT, and shut up, Phoebe's lack of fashion sense), but for God's sake, would it fucking kill them to turn up the heat on that set? Oh, wait. My bad. It probably would, now that the WB's slashed their budget. Remind me again why this show was renewed? Anyway, Glamour Piper's soon assaulted by a golf ball cloud of her own and morphs into regular Piper so the two sisters might chide Glamour Raige for her ridiculous new identity. "Oh, fine," Glamour Raige pouts with much puckering of collagen-enhanced lips and suddenly, swapping in Janice Dickinson for Rose McGowan makes frightening amounts of sense. Glamour Raige vanishes beneath yet another golf ball cloud and emerges as Dear Old Muggy, who plants her hands on her hips, wrinkles her brow, bugs out her eyes, and complains, "Well, somebody had to cry at my funeral, didn't they?" Wah. Wah. Waaaaaaaah. Piper and the Fun Bags grin as Mugs McGowan rolls her eyes all the way into the opening credits.
There are a couple of lovely new slo-mos of the individual ladies in those opening credits, by the way, but unfortunately, the entire experience is marred by Kaley Cuoco's depressing appearance in between Combs and Krause. Just looking at this twit's bobble-headed, bubble-brained smirk makes me want to punch myself repeatedly in the head. God, this season is going to suck.
"We were supposed to keep a low profile!" Piper howls as we return from the commercial break. "What were you thinking?" "I was thinking," Raige rages, as she crosses to the kitchen table for no apparent reason whatsoever, "that I spent far too much time in the magical world because nobody even cares that I'm dead!" "There are lots of [those stupid fucking] leprechauns out there," Feebs offers lamely. "I mean real people!" Raige growls. "Your friend Glenn was at your urn," Piper notes, and color me shocked that they remembered a character from three years ago. Raige, however, remains unimpressed, and is about to twitch her way into another tirade when a somewhat attractive twentysomething gentleman eases himself through the room's swinging door to glare at them.
Phoebe and Raige get their panties in a wad over the new arrival and exposure! and wah before Piper flaps a couple of calming hands around in the air and shushes them with "Don't bother." The still-silent gentlemen disappears in a cloud of glowing golf balls from which he emerges in Dolt form, much to Phoebe's audible relief. The Dolt chides his dim wife and her even dimmer sisters for blundering about the Manor in their unglamoured forms for a bit before Raige is assaulted by The Dental Drill Of Dreadful Discord. "Does that mean the [ever-useless] Elders know she's alive?" Phoebe wonders. "They can't," Piper replies. "We cloaked ourselves from them." "Could be a new charge," the Dolt guesses, explaining that "a connection to one's Whitelighter is automatic." Raige, instantly convinced her new charge is one of the mourners and perhaps even under demonic threat at that very moment, clatters over to the kitchen door to scope out the other rooms. Phoebe yanks Raige back, but not before she herself catches sight of Jason Lewis solemnly bowing his head in front of Phoebe's portrait. After a brief bit of babbling wherein Phoebe and Piper insist that they "don't do demons anymore," Phoebe pokes her head around the door for another look at Jason, who's apparently some guy she saw all the time in the elevator at All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. Raige -- no stranger to the many joys of the slampieces -- approves. More on Jason Lewis later, though, for as Piper orders her sisters back into their glamoured forms, we head back into...
...the main hall, where Elise Rothman, Girl Editor is getting all weepy in front of Daddy Dearest. Something about Phoebe being like the daughter she never had. I totally don't care about Elise and her desiccated uterus. Daddy Dearest does his level best to console her, though, and Elise makes note of the unusual number of midgets underfoot before finally wandering off, allowing an opening for a smooth-talking Taye Diggs-alike to exploit. The Diggs-alike slides over in front of Daddy Dearest and immediately begins peppering him with unseemly, prying, and very specific questions regarding the Manor Morons' supposed demise, so he's either another goddamned federal agent, or he's a demon. When he reveals himself to be a real estate agent named "Paul Haas" whose interested in snagging a hefty commission through selling the house, we know he's the latter. Victor tells him to go to hell. Paul Haas meekly offers his condolences, and...
...does exactly as Daddy Dearest so curtly requested, actually. Haas blazes in to the center of a dank, depressing Underworld chamber liberally littered with demonic hipsters. As he strips off his suit coat, one of the hipsters approaches with, "Well? Are they dead or not?" "They're dead," Haas confirms as he loosens his tie, and good God. Mykel Shannon Jenkins has enormous biceps. Seriously. They're huge. However, in the interest of time, I'll eschew slobbering all over his guns in favor of getting directly to this evening's Nefarious Demonic Plot For World Domination. First, though, we receive a little lesson on the current state of affairs in Hell when the lead demonic hipster asserts, "There's no order to the Underworld anymore -- now that Zankou and his generation have been decimated, it's our time to play," and that makes no fucking sense at all, because all of these lesser demons would have been slaughtered in the run-up to the Avatars' Change, so whatever. You're cute, demonic hipster boy, but the exposition you offer sucks, so you can shut up right now. Haas has greater things in mind, however. "I want out of this hole," he seethes. "Take over the symbolic seat of power before anybody else does." The lead demonic hipster realizes Haas is referring to the Manor and wonders how Haas intends to pull that one off. Easily enough, as it turns out. "I'm going to buy it from their father's estate," Haas smiles, "after I kill him." DUN! The various dark demonic hipsters chuckle and chortle and snicker and smirk.
Meanwhile, up in Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World -- which, by the way, might end up with yet another nickname now that they've fired Dorian Gregory because of that drastically reduced budget I mentioned earlier -- Agent Keyes and some guy who looks like the unholy and genetically improbable love child of Ioan Gruffudd, Adam Brody, and Ben Affleck blather expositorially for a very, very long time. "Agent Murphy" is going on and on about the years-long investigation into the Halliwells and the thing that killed The Best Policewoman In The History Of Forever and the cop that denied the presumed-dead Dolt access to the Manor in the immediate aftermath of the Glamorous Ladies' supposed death and why is Agent Keyes giving up and heading back to Washington? Long story short, Keyes believes the gals are still alive and knows they won't resurface as long as his department's maintaining so obvious a presence in the city. As a result, he's shifting the entire operation back to the East Coast. Agent Murphy's to remain in San Francisco, though, as the Manor Morons are certain to reappear sooner or later. God, this is boring.
Back at the Manor, Daddy Dearest's chatting with Jason Lewis about Phoebe as a few remaining mourners file out the front door. And as every news account I've read regarding Jason Lewis's appearance this season has gone to great pains to note that he'll only be around for the first six episodes, I'll be ignoring just about everything he has to say, especially when one of his first lines regarding knockered nitwit is, "I never got over how someone as beautiful as she was could be so incredibly insightful." Shut up, Jason Lewis. You too, Enormous Mole On Jason Lewis's Cheek. Seriously, where the hell did that gigantic thing come from? Did they spackle over it for his stint on Sex And The City? 'Cause I don't remember noticing it before and it's pretty hard to miss, what with it being as big as his goddamned nose. In any event, Glamour Phoebe arrives on the scene to try to talk her way into Jason Lewis's pants. Fortunately, Glamour Piper bustles over from the dining room to shove Jason Lewis out the front door before turning to Phoebe and sniping, "You can't pick up on a guy at a funeral!" Glamour Phoebe tries and fails to come up with a zippy retort as the sounds of the littlest Psycho performing some act of horrifically wanton foulness waft into the main hall from one of the interior rooms. Glamour Piper, trailed by her father and Glamour Feebs, crosses into the center parlor to find the dead-eyed sociopath glowering murderously from the floor. As Daddy Dearest correctly notes that the Psycho can't recognize his own mother -- like the Psycho cares one way or the other -- the Dolt and Raige enter from the kitchen to do...something that's not terribly important at all. Piper and Phoebe de-glamour themselves and fret over the Psycho's supposedly fragile state of mind until Phoebe stumbles across a cunning plan to fix the current confusing situation.
Cut to the nonexistent attic, where Phoebe hustles over to an old steamer trunk to retrieve the much-abused Book Of Shadows from beneath an old quilt. "It's a good thing we kept this!" she perks as she hoists it over to its stand, and WHAT? You mean to tell me I'm supposed to believe that they quite seriously considered getting rid of the thing? God, I hate this show. ANY-way, Piper and Raige warn Phoebe that any use of magic on their part could alert the demonic world that they all continue to breathe, but Phoebe insists they have to perform a couple of minor spells to correct the various flaws in their new, glamoured existence. The first spell will rather conveniently fix each Manor Moron with a permanent new appearance visible only to those outside the family circle, so Phoebe urges her sisters and brother-in-law to concentrate on one disguise. "Nothing flashy, either," Piper warns Raige. Mugs bugs out her eyes, grimaces, and gesticulates wildly until Phoebe finally cuts through the crap to read the following from one of the Book's pages:
I call upon the ancient powers
To mask us now and in future hours --
Hide us well and thoroughly,
But not from those we call family.
Nothing obvious happens, so the gals plus the Dolt step over to a nearby mirror, which for some stupid reason is reflecting their new images back to them, despite the fact that the spell specified their new identities would be transparent to themselves and those they consider "family." What the fuck ever. And while I can sort of understand why Raige would choose the Amazonian creature peering back at her from the glass as her new identity, I find it difficult to believe Piper and the Dolt would present themselves as such oddly featured and badly groomed early twentysomethings, and I find it absolutely impossible to believe that Phoebe would transform herself into a flat-chested version of Amanda Peet. "How is it you can see your other selves reflected in the mirror?" dear, sweet, befuddled Victor asks for me. "It's part of the spell," Phoebe shrugs, and no, it's not. Look at what I typed out above and tell me if you see any mention of mirrors or other shiny reflective surfaces in the verses, hmmm? You don't, do you? Because it's not there, you stupid bint. The Manor Morons marvel over their new appearances for a bit before Raige's Whitelightery bell starts clanging around in her head again. "Uck," she groans. "The jingle again." She takes a moment before frowning, "Do you think this means something bad is gonna happen?"
And in yet another Cleansing Burst Of Synchronicity, we cut over to Kaley Cuoco's dorm room (was that a spoiler? I think that was a spoiler. Oh, fuck it), where things are very bad indeed as Kaley Cuoco -- kitted out like a retarded hooker in distressingly low-slung black pleather pants, a cropped boob-and-belly-baring black top, and spike-heeled black dominatrix boots -- retrieves a pair of opera-length black gloves from one drawer, a silver athame from a cabinet, and a tatty black nylon wig from the cupboard before sliding a massive pair of black sunglasses onto her vacant face. Believe it or not, I had an entirely tangential paragraph here about low-slung pants and who shouldn't be wearing them that specifically targeted the often unfortunately dressed American Idol Kelly Clarkson and which quickly devolved into a rumination on glittery celebrity hoo-hoos that sparkle like diamonds, but the whole thing was far too discomfiting to make it through the final edit of this recap. I mention it only because the existence of that disturbing rant made it clear to me that I would rather discuss anything at all up to and including Kelly Clarkson's vagina than write about any of Kaley Cuoco's scenes -- even the ones in which she speaks not a word. This is going to be an extremely unpleasant season.
And look at that -- while I was off on a tangent, hashing over a tangent that no longer exists, we've plowed through an entire commercial break and are back in the Manor. Up in the nonexistent attic, the gals plus the Dolt finish scribbling the names and background details of their new identities onto slips of paper for the second phase of Phoebe's masking spell, which involves dumping those slips of paper into the smoking copper potions pot and tossing a pinch of something or other in after them. Once the usual minor explosion has occurred, the Manor Morons' new selves have apparently been added to every imaginable governmental and commercial database in the world so Phoebe and Piper can go shopping. No, seriously. No. Seriously. God, I hate this show. The gals have all picked J names, by the way -- "Julie," "Jenny," and "Jo" -- while the Dolt chose "Louis," as in Armstrong, and if you think they didn't then waste far too much time on a terribly unfunny bit wherein none of the Glamorous Idiots know who Louis Armstrong is, you've obviously forgotten which piece of televised garbage you're watching. Raige, still worried about possible demonic attacks, decides to remain in the Manor while Phoebe drags Piper down the stairs and into a...
...shopping montage! I love montages, because I can ignore them. Piper and Phoebe eventually emerge from a store loaded down with bags from Neiman Marcus, Bulgari, and Escada, among others, to amble down the street while chatting about things I could not care less about if I tried. Long story short, Piper, who'd been bitching about having a normal life for seven goddamned years, is having second thoughts about the whole "pretending to be dead to the rest of the world" thing. Phoebe offers her sister a boring little pep talk, reminding Piper that, while the last thirty years of their lives have indeed been wiped away, they "have to give up something to gain something." Piper's still not quite buying it, so Phoebe demands to know what's really going on. "It's just..." Piper hesitates before rattling through the rest of her line: "It's a big change, and I don't do change very well, so, you know, just let me freak out for a little while and then I'm sure I'll be fine." Phoebe affably and affectionately nods her head at this before Piper hands all of her bags over to her sister, as she intends to check on P3 to make sure Daddy Dearest hasn't ruined the business in the three days he's been running it. "You worry too much, missy!" Phoebe calls out as Piper crosses the street. "Uh-huh!" Piper dismissively grunts. Phoebe smiles and follows Piper with her eyes, but the smiles fades a bit when Piper passes behind a bus bench bedecked with one of those Ask Phoebe ads. Phoebe takes a long moment to gaze at the advertisement before the camera cuts back over to...
...the nonexistent attic, where Raige is ranting, "Phoebe has a life outside of magic, or at least she had one, Piper has [the Dolt] -- Piper has the boys -- and what do I have? I have a giant, sucking hole of nothingness!" The camera pans over to the supremely weary Grams, who lounges on one of the sofas, delicately pinching her forehead in an attempt to fend off the migraine Raige's bitchery is sending her way. Hee. "Oh, please, [Raige]," Grams condescends. "Spare me the dramatics and cut to the chase, will you?" Heh. Unfortunately, neither Raige nor the normally delightful Grams gets to the fucking point anytime soon, so I'll get there for them: Raige wants to embrace her new identity but can't get past the Whitelightery alarm system that keeps going off in her head, and Grams tells Raige to quit whining. Well, you know. Essentially. Grams playfully swats Raige on her behind and orders her to "get up, get a grip, and don't come back [to the Manor] until you find your thrill," whatever the hell that means. Raige jiggles out of the nonexistent room to look for fun in the big, bad world outside, or something.
And the form that fun takes? Sitting by herself at an outdoor café, guzzling down a latte. Yawn. It's like watching paint dry. No, I take back that cliché, because drying paint is far more engaging than this crap. Anyway, some smarmy-looking yuppie wanders over to smooth-talk her, but Raige's opportunity to snag a little on the side vanishes when a woman gets her purse snatched across the street and Raige's pesky sense of duty kicks in. She races after the perp, only to find the ransacked purse abandoned on the sidewalk to a subway entrance, and after stupidly chiding herself for not orbing, she gets another jingle on her Whitelightery hotline. "I give up," Raige sighs, darting down into the subway entrance so she can orb to the source of the call.
Which would seem to be Kaley Cuoco, who's clomping gracelessly down the sidewalk in her retarded-hooker gear, in broad daylight. Asshole. She even gets her own theme song -- some buzzy-yet-wailing '70s-esque electric guitar crap I believe they're recycling from Melrose Place. I hate her so much. The shot cuts to the interior of a sparsely populated movie theater -- or actually, a cheap-looking, tacked-together movie theater set on some Paramount soundstage -- where the lead demonic hipster from all those many scenes ago slides into a seat just behind some fat guy who's watching a horror movie. As a particularly startling moment hits the screen, the fat guy gasps, and the lead demonic hipster gets busy. His "talent" as mentioned in that earlier scene, you see, is to "scare the living hell out of people," which is what he apparently does now as he raises a glowing, red hand towards the fat guy's head. The fat guy shimmies like a bowl of bloated Jell-O before dropping dead of an apparent heart attack. Well, I suppose it could just as easily have been a stroke, but I really don't care enough to investigate it further.
The lead demonic hipster rises to slink down the aisle towards his victim just as Raige orbs into a curtained alcove on the far side of the set. Squinting in the dark, she spots the hipster and wonders, "Did you call for me?" "I don't think so," he sneers, setting his Big Gulp down so he can super-speed through the row of seats to slam Raige into the wall behind her. Raige slumps to the sticky carpet, dazed, as the hipster conjures a Flaming Ball Of Death atop his right palm. Just as he's about to flip it into Raige's Moustache, however, Kaley Cuoco arrives on the set and...I just can't do this. I can't! Her first three lines are "Doesn't that burn your hand?", "Damn, I was hoping for such a better fight with my first demon!", and "You are a demon, aren't you?", and she delivers them so badly, in such an aggravatingly vapid bimbonic tone of voice, that I just...I can't...I don't know how...I...I...I HATE I HATE I HATE I HATE HER SO SO SO MUCH SHE IS A HORRIBLE A WRETCHED A HORRIBLE A MISERABLE A HORRIBLE AN EVIL EXCUSE FOR AN ACTRESS AND SHE HAS NO NO NO NO NO SCREEN PRESENCE AT ALL AND SHE IS CLEARLY DUMBER THAN A BOX A CRATE A MOVING VAN A GIGANTIC METAL SHIPPING CONTAINER OF HAIR AND ROCKS AND HAMMERS AND SHE IS A COMPLETE WASTE OF PRECIOUS PRECIOUS OXYGEN AND VARIOUS OTHER VITAL NATURAL RESOURCES.
She's so bad, she makes me wish the Dolt were in more scenes tonight. No, actually, she's so bad, she makes me appreciate Rose McGowan. Oh, fuck it: She's so bad, she makes me love Alyssa Milano. ALYSSA FUCKING MILANO, PEOPLE! HOW CAN ANYONE BE SO STUPID AND STILL LIVE?
Lord. My head's going to explode if I even attempt to sit through this awful scene again, so I'll simply give you what I remember: Kaley Cuoco's character can do all sorts of ninja-like back flips and shit, and she also has the power to deflect Flaming Balls Of Death. Unfortunately. The demonic hipster, realizing he can't take on both a Whitelighter and a retarded bimbo with atrocious line deliveries at the same time, squiggles on out of there as Raige, dazed, watches the retarded bimbo with the atrocious line deliveries vanish into the commercial break.
Manor, and a scene I find I can't concentrate on after the amazing black hole of suck that was the last. Good thing this scene's not terribly important, I guess. Basically, the Dolt and Daddy Dearest chat while washing dishes, and the only thing we learn is that Daddy Dearest harbors grave misgivings regarding the success of this whole identity-switching nonsense. !
Daddy Dearest lopes out onto the sun porch, where he's startled by the arriving orb cloud of some ever-useless Elder we've never seen before. Long, long story short, the ever-useless Elder wants to take the Psycho and poor, neglected, and doomed Tiny Gay Chris up to Whitelighterland, because neither he nor his ever-useless brethren believe Victor has the skills to raise them in the magical tradition, what with the constant threat from what remains of the Underworld and everything. Victor's all, "Over my dead body," and the ever-useless Elder shoots him a glare that pretty much says, "That can easily be arranged," but the ever-useless Elder just ends up orbing back out after grumbling, "I pray you know what you're doing." The Dolt, who'd been eavesdropping on the entire exchange from the dining room, wanders over to natter about something or other as Raige creeps in through the front door. She too brightly bubbles some lie about what she'd been up to that afternoon, but when she turns to climb the stairs, the Dolt and Daddy Dearest can see the gash in her back from her earlier encounter with the movie theater's wall. "How did that happen?" frowns the Dolt.
"Yeah," Haas answers in one of those call-and-response transitions I love so much, "how did that happen?" As he rambles through his dank and depressing underground chamber, Haas continues, "How is it that the great Elkin got his ass kicked by one lousy witch?" He's certainly got that "lousy" bit right, doesn't he? Lead demonic hipster Elkin, who'd been darkly brooding against a column, sneers, "I didn't get my ass kicked. I could have easily killed her if I wasn't worried about exposure." Oh, honey. Fuck exposure. Get your ass back topside and off her now. He doesn't listen to me. They never listen to me. The boys bicker with each other for a bit before Haas reiterates his plan to slaughter Victor and assume control of the Manor. Elkin grins.
P3. Pointless scene in which Piper bemoans the fate of her club, which Daddy Dearest has indeed managed to run into the ground in the seven days he's been running it. Piper also bobbles her new name when one of her underlings confronts her. She's either "Jenny Bennett" or "Julie Bennett," if you must know. Hey, if she can't remember it, why should I? After her underling's wandered off to confirm her identity with Victor, Piper's cell rings, and it's the Dolt with news of Raige's demonic-related injury. Piper howls and wails and shrews and bitches and exits to head back to the Manor.
All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. Phoebe, who ditched all of those shopping bags somewhere that is not the Manor, because this show sucks, and I want to die, pokes her head through the swinging glass doors to find a small shrine devoted to her memory on one of the metal drafting tables in the main office. "I still can't believe she's gone," Phoebe's Non-Mary Cherry assistant grieves. "She was always so sweet to me -- you know, like the time she and Nick Lachey had sex on my desk? She totally offered to reimburse me for the cleaning supplies I needed to buy to scour all that nasty gunk off of my computer. And when the scouring and the scraping and the boiling didn't work and I had to buy my own new computer because Elise said we didn't have any money in the budget for a replacement because all of the extra cash was going to Phoebe so she could waste $250 on a cut and color every two weeks? Phoebe totally offered to pay for that, too. She didn't, of course, but still. She was always so sweet." "She always had a smile for everyone," one of Non-Mary's coworkers agrees. "Especially after she got the owner of the paper to go down on her in his office in the middle of a business day. With all of us watching. God, I'll never get that image out of my mind." "She was always there whenever you needed her," another colleague adds, "except for all of those times she blew off work to have a nooner with the boss at some sleazy motel out by the airport." "She helped me through my divorce," the first coworker sighs, "which, when you think about it, was only fair. The only reason my wife left me is because the mere sight of that cooter tattoo of hers put me off sex for life." When Elise finally breaks down in the middle of all of this fond sentimentality, Phoebe steps in to offer a hankie. Introducing herself as "Julie Bennett," Phoebe claims she's a cousin from Victor's side of the family, only there to retrieve Phoebe's personal effects. There follows a verbal tongue-bath of the presumed deceased that I simply cannot bear to endure, so we'll skip through all that and get to the point where Phoebe realizes -- quietly and to herself, of course -- that maybe this whole identity-switching nonsense isn't everything it's cracked up to be. And...scene.
Out in the hall, Phoebe blunders into the elevator, only to discover she's sharing it with Jason Lewis, whom we learn has the improbable name of "Dex Lawson." After some awkward introductory banter, Phoebe shakes his hand and is immediately flung into a sun-dappled premonition. It's of herself, looking positively radiant on what we're meant to assume is her wedding day, with Dex here as her groom. Phoebe snaps out of it and winces up at Dex, who shoots her a quizzical and wary eyebrow, and if she pulled her usual bout of orgasmic gasping and shuddering while receiving that vision of the future, we can certainly understand why he looks that way. Phoebe stutters and stammers and makes a complete jackass out of herself until the elevator finally reaches the ground floor. Phoebe powers on out of there with no so much as a glance back as Dex offers a "Nice meeting you!" at her disappearing back before vanishing himself into the commercial break.
Nonexistent attic. Piper and Phoebe storm into in to find Raige scrying for the retarded bimbo with the atrocious line deliveries, and bellow at their twitchy bastard of a half-sister in outrage and consternation. Raige counters this aural assault by calmly filling them in on the demon in the movie theater and the "chick" who scared him away. "What chick?" Piper and Phoebe screech in unison.
Meanwhile, down in the center parlor, Daddy Dearest is crooning "Itsy Bitsy Spider" as he toddles around the main floor with the dead-eyed Psycho slung over one of his shoulders, and that's...a really bizarre song choice, but whatever, because just as Victor heads up the stairs, Haas blazes onto the sun porch beyond, with Elkin and another henchdemon squiggling in on either side of him. "We'll wait for him to come back downstairs," Haas reveals. "Alone."
Back in the nonexistent attic, there's more hooting and shrieking and caterwauling about the retarded bimbo with the atrocious line deliveries and the possibility of exposure and wah until Grams materializes off-screen to gripe, "Oh, for crying out loud! Give her a break, will ya?" "What are you doing here?" is Phoebe's rather rude greeting. "Trying to keep you from ganging up on her," Grams replies, gesturing towards Raige. Piper snorts something about Grams being dead; therefore, the current debate "doesn't really concern" her. "It does when my legacy is at stake," Grams argues, advancing upon them. "I think we've paid our dues," Phoebe snits. "And I'm not saying you haven't," Grams allows. "You have every right to want to live normal, unencumbered lives, but just because you want to doesn't mean you can." God love her. "You're a little late with that speech," Piper growls, and no, not really, since it's the same speech she's been giving your ungrateful and lazy asses for the last eight godforsaken years. But enough of that. For now. Long story short, Grams insists that Raige is being called for a reason, and regardless of how this stupid identity-switching nonsense will play out, Raige cannot ignore the pleas of her charges. Piper and Phoebe mope. Shut up, you stroppy little shrews.
Down in the main hall, Victor arrives from upstairs to receive more than a few of Haas's threats until the retarded bimbo with the atrocious line deliveries bangs through the front door, and Kaley Cuoco is quite seriously a black hole of suck set to a Melrose Place soundtrack, so let's just say she vanquishes the henchdemons but misses Haas and leave it at that, shall we? As The Retarded Bimbo With The Atrocious Line Deliveries vanishes into the night, Piper sneers, "Show-off," before she and her sisters vanish into the final commercial break.
Manor. Aftermath. The Glamorous Idiots conduct a processing summit in the parlor during which they debate the true nature of The Retarded Bimbo With The Atrocious Line Deliveries. Fortunately, Phoebe soon realizes that their real problem this evening is the demon who wants to kill their father for whatever reason. Piper agrees, but notes, "We can't just vanquish the one demon -- we're gonna have to make some sort of a statement." "Otherwise," she continues, "what's to keep the entire Underworld from coming after Dad again and again?" Raige tilts her head and announces, "Well, here's our conundrum, people: How do we make a statement without letting them know it's us?" Yeah, she doesn't know what "flogging" means, but she can toss "conundrum" into casual conversation. Shut up, Charmed.
Establishing shot of Daddy Dearest's wood-frame apartment building. Victor enters his flat, flicks on the lights, and crosses far enough into the living room to allow Haas enough space to blaze in off-screen. "I knew you'd come home sooner or later," Haas growls as two fresh henchdemons squiggle in beside him. Haas makes with the threats until the dead-eyed Psycho orbs onto the carpet to his grandfather. "You've got to be kidding me!" Haas scoffs. "You think that he can stop us all?" Uh, duuuuh. Yeah. That mutant little freak could toast all your asses with a goddamned sneeze. Where the hell have you been, dude? Victor agrees with me, challenging Haas and the henchdemons to "try 'im." Haas glares at the wee sociopath for a moment before the wee sociopath, with a squeal of murderous delight, unleashes a blast of explosive mojo from his left hand that sends Haas flying backwards into a wall. By the way, they've green-screened the bemulleted terrors portraying the Psycho in this scene, and it's annoyingly obvious. The rightmost henchdemon unleashes a Flaming Ball Of Death in the Psycho's direction, but the Psycho flicks out another burst of explosive mojo that slams into the thing in midair, ricocheting the FBOD into the second henchdemon, who howls and wails and explodes on his merry way to The Waste Land. Haas, meanwhile, has pulled himself up onto his knees, and hurls another FBOD at the Psycho's rather large head. The Psycho freezes this one before it travels halfway across the room and, deploying a little more of the explosive mojo, knocks the remaining henchdemon into it. Howling, wailing, etc. In the aftermath, Haas rises slowly to his feet as Victor instructs, "Spread the word: Leave us alone, or he'll kill you all." Haas glares once more at the wee tiny Psycho before blazing back down to the Underworld. The Psycho bares his pointy little fangs in his grandfather's general direction. Victor, inexplicably, does not freak right the fuck out of his apartment at the sight of those things.
Hell. Haas blazes in, and all of the lounging demonic hipsters wonder what gives. "It was a set-up," Haas glowers, "and not by the boy -- he's not old enough." Haas, rocket scientist that he is, realizes the Charmed Ones must still be alive. General mayhem ensues amongst the various demonic hipsters.
Back in Victor's apartment, Raige enters without knocking from the hallway outside to wonder how everything went. After a beat, Victor morphs into Phoebe as the Psycho morphs into his mother, and I spent all of five minutes going, "Bullshit! BULLSHIT! How the fuck did Piper orb into that stupid fucking room? GOD, this show SUCKS!" until I remembered that Raige had developed the ability last season to orb people without touching them. Still, that was all kind of dumb. The gals decide their cunning ploy worked beautifully, and plan to return to their newly normal lives posthaste. Well, Phoebe and Piper plan to return to their newly normal lives. Raige is still saddled with The Retarded Bimbo With The Atrocious Line Deliveries, unfortunately. "Maybe you won't hear from her again," Phoebe bright-sides as the ladies exit their father's apartment. Raige groans and sighs, "I have a feeling she'll be sticking around for a while." Not if you kill her. Would you three please kill her? Please? Don't let Phoebe's wall expertise go to waste. We who have been watching this garbage since that goddamned retarded bimbo was in diapers are begging you. Begging you.
And speaking of the bleach-blonde black hole of suck, there she is back in her dorm room, stowing away her retarded-hooker gear, all to that funky Melrose Place beat. OH MY GOD I HATE HER SO MUCH. The episode ends with someone rapping on her door and calling out, "Billie! Where are you? We're late for class!" Billie, The Retarded Bimbo With The Atrocious Line Deliveries, babbles something back, but I missed it because it was yanked into the Bleach-Blonde Black Hole Of Suck where it was rapidly torn asunder by titanic forces of badness and evil and HATE and destroyed.
This is going to be a very long season.
week, Raige mocks The Retarded Bimbo because The Retarded Bimbo's clothes are stupid. When Rose McGowan is telling you you're dressing like an idiot, it's time to put a bullet through your head.