Previously on Charmed, various wacky hijinks over the last three weeks involving identity crises, some guy Phoebe met in an elevator, and The Retarded Bimbo.
Currently on Charmed, the most tedious, pointless, and generally stupid pre-credits sequence I have ever had the misfortune to endure on this show, and yes, that includes the KQSF BEACH BASH!! and no, I'm not saying that just because it features no one aside from The Retarded Bimbo and the Dolt. It's because the entire minute and a half is devoted to the dim Dolt lecturing The Retarded Bimbo on the origins of Not!warts -- which no one has ever cared about or ever will care about, EVER -- while The Retarded Bimbo ignores him completely to focus on telekinetically whipping around a set of nunchucks until she sends them crashing through the nonexistent attic's front window, presumably to decapitate some hapless passerby on the sidewalk below. Seriously. That's it. And they renewed this crap...why, exactly?
Back from the credits, we fade up and linger on the Manor façade for the briefest of moments before heading indoors towards the dining room, where we find the table littered with various astronomy texts and photos of Vex Pexter. Yes, "astronomy texts," for Phoebe is such an idiot, she mistakes the actual, honest-to-God science of astronomy for that astrological bullshit in which these ladies are supposedly so well-versed. The camera slides past all of that junk to land on Piper, who's seated in front of a rather large and fairly old sewing machine, attempting to stitch together several yards of gold lamé fabric in a manner suspiciously reminiscent of first-season Lynette Scavo on Desperate Housewives. Much like first-season Lynette -- pre-Ritalin, of course -- Piper's failing miserably. And in a preemptive strike, I'm going to paraphrase Jessica's fabulous recap of that episode and note that if, during the course of the evening, it sounds like I'm skimming over Piper's plotline, guess what? I am. It's boring. If I wanted to watch PTA drama, I would join the PTA. This interests me only if Piper's entire PTA somehow winds up nailed to the ceiling of the school's auditorium with bloody, foot-wide gashes gaping across their torsos before collectively bursting into flame. And if Phoebe and The Retarded Bimbo join them up there? So much the better.
Unfortunately, none of that will be happening tonight. (Ooops. Spoiler!) Instead, Muggy McGowan kicks things off by twitching fitfully down the stairs to enter the dining room clad in a light, summery dress which -- after all of the scurrilous and tawdry gossip surrounding her expulsion from a Los Angeles nightclub this past week -- I can only describe as being "snow white." Raige has arrived on the main floor to bitch about her missing jewelry and her coffee date that morning and NO ONE CARES, RAIGE, before she crosses to the sun porch to annoy the dead-eyed Psycho, who's doing something horrible on the floor with what I'm assuming are the mangled remains of his poor, neglected, and ultimately doomed younger brother. Then again, I didn't look that closely, so maybe the bemulleted one was just banging some toys together. Piper blathers something expository about the Psycho's impending school play, for which she is currently trying to stitch together a costume, and if they're seriously just going to lift an entire subplot directly out of a year-old episode of a far more popular program and dump it into the middle of all this garbage, then they can all rot in Hell. In any event, Raige has parked herself in front of a small mirror so her glamoured Amazonian identity might wonder if it's best to apply a shade of lipstick that complements Raige's actual skin tone or to go with a color better suited for the person the rest of the world can see, and I swear to God, all that Bolivian marching powder has destroyed every last brain cell that was left in that spastic little head of hers, hasn't it? No matter, for it's all just some typewriting crackmonkey's excuse to have Piper rise from her task and stand behind Raige in the reflection so we might catch sight of the new glamour she's chosen for herself after last week's unpleasantness with the police. Piper's new identity is far closer to her actual age, from the brief glimpse we get of her here, and actually resembles Raige's glamour closely enough for the two to pass as sisters. Not that any of you care, I realize. I'm simply trying to be thorough.
Anyway, Piper sits back down to futz with the mini-Sgt.-Pepper's uniform she's concocting for her murderous sociopath of an elder son as Raige babbles in the background about Vex Pexter and how unsuitable a choice he is for the role of Phoebe's semen provider. He's "a player," you see, and even Phoebe's own paper regularly includes gossipy items about his latest conquests, or some such nonsense. Before Piper can properly reply to all of this, however, a bubbly Phoebe jiggles in from the kitchen to blurt, "Did you hear the good news?" "Lemme guess," Raige replies with an overly sarcastic brightness that Phoebe's far too self-centered and stupid to notice, "[Vex] is the one?" "Yep!" the oblivious Feebs perks; referring to the various charts and books scattered about on the dining room table, she continues, "According to every magical calculation there is!" "Not only that," Phoebe adds, manically gesticulating for emphasis, "but it all times out purrrrr-fectly -- you know, my vision of us getting married, when I'm supposed to get pregnant, all of it!" I'm going to ignore her stupid marriage premonition to attack the second part of that thusly: No, dipshit, it does not time out perfectly with when you're supposed to get pregnant -- at least, not if you're basing everything on your assy Vision Quest at Not!warts, for as you'll recall, you birdbrained hag, your nephews were about eight and ten years old, so you're not due for another seven goddamned years, and shut up, Phoebe. And Phoebe's loudly ticking biological clock can go straight to Hell with everybody and everything else responsible for this ungodly mess, too. Blech. In any event, Raige threatens to get snotty, so Piper hastily changes the topic by hoisting the jacket of the Psycho's costume into the air, in the process somehow managing to change scenes entirely as we find ourselves...
...schlepped over to the Psycho's preschool, where Piper's demon child angrily bats that same lamé jacket out of his mother's hands as she attempts to wrestle him into it. The shot cuts to take in a disapproving Michelle Stafford of daytime television's The Young And The Restless. Michelle Stafford, as we shall presently learn, will be playing both Bree Van De Kamp and Maisy Gibbons to Piper's Lynette Scavo for the Desperate Housewives portion of tonight's festivities, and between you, me, and that hideous checkered thing she's calling a skirt, Michelle Stafford will not be collecting her third Emmy award for this evening's performance. Just a hunch. After eyeing Piper tussling with the Psycho for a bit, Michelle Stafford crosses to condescend. Piper's glamoured self must find it terribly difficult to raise a child not her own, mustn't she? And look at that! Piper's thoughtless glamoured self has left a straight pin in the Psycho's lamé jacket! No wonder he didn't want to put itzzzzzzzzzzz. And with that, Michelle Stafford spirits the Psycho away, supposedly to rehearse the latter's role in the gathered rugrats' impending presentation of Cinderella. Piper, thoroughly deflated by the entire experience, heaves a beleaguered sigh as the camera cuts to Michelle Stafford leading the Psycho through the preschool's rear exit towards the alleyway beyond. She presses the Psycho's dead-eyed head close to that hideous checkered thing she's calling a skirt as she raises the lamé jacket into the air to toss the fugly thing out onto the pavement. Just as she releases it, though, the fabric bursts into flames, and it vanishes in a puff of smoke long before it hits the ground. "Our little secret -- shhhh!" Michelle whispers to Piper's brat as streaming veins of demonic mojo worm their way around beneath the skin on her face. The lines gather at her eyes, which flip beetle-black for the briefest of moments before Michelle regains her composure and, smiling to herself, smoothes her hair. Lord, this is dull. The angry strings and anxiously throbbing drums that suddenly assault the soundtrack would have us believe otherwise, however, as the shot cuts abruptly to an aerial that races above the fog-shrouded city before the camera lands on...
...some outdoor café, where Raige greets her coffee date, and yawn. He's a pleasant-enough-looking idiot she met through an online dating site, you see, but the idiot has absolutely nothing to do with this evening's subsequent events, so I don't know why they even bothered with any of this. The one vaguely amusing slice of the subsequent dialogue pops up when the idiot asks Raige what she does that "keeps [her] so busy." Raige lies that she tutors "special-needs" children, in particular this one girl who's "a real pain in the butt." The idiot shoots her A Look that says, "You did not just call a retard a pain in the ass, did you?" Yes she did, idiot. And she's understating things considerably. Raige apologizes for "oversharing" and asks the idiot how he manages to come up with his own rent. The idiot launches into an endless and detailed monologue regarding market research that almost instantly hurls Raige into an apathy-induced coma, and all I can say in response at this point is, try sitting through it five times in a row so you can recap it, bitch. It certainly doesn't help matters at all to realize the typewriting crackmonkeys thought it would be cute to have the monologue decay into an actual series of "blah-blah-blahs" from Raige's perspective, so we have to endure that babbling around on the soundtrack while Raige focuses instead on a passing pair of pumps. No, seriously. I have now found myself writing about Raige staring at a pair of shoes. Raige staring at a pair of shoes has, in fact, become a major plot point on this show. Gah! Glaaaaah. Anyway, a pair of shoes captures Raige's attention, and she fixates on them until the camera pans up to reveal the pumps are occupied by Alana De La Garza, an actress notorious to yours truly for being part of that godawful Oliver Hudson crapfest The Mountain. As Raige's internet idiot blah-blahs in the background -- and this poor actor's life has got to suck if this is the best his agent can do for him -- Raige follows Alana with her eyes until Alana trills, "[Vex]!" and darts over to a nearby table to greet Phoebe's purported paramour with a big sloppy wet one on the lips and a lingering embrace. Raige, shocked and appalled, cuts her dreadful coffee date short in the rudest manner imaginable -- specifically, spitting a "Blah!" of her own back in the internet idiot's face -- before clattering on out of there atop her strappy heels.
OH, MY GOD! SHUT UP, PHOEBE! She ignores me, as is her wont, to power through the main office at All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me with her long-suffering Non-Mary Cherry assistant trailing after her. Phoebe's curtly barking a series of orders involving hair appointments that the assistant must schedule for the boss and shopping trips to Crate And Barrel the assistant must make that afternoon to purchase a few dozen candles "to set the mood" for the boss's date with the boss's badly coiffed pantywaist of a boyfriend the following evening, and the long-suffering Non-Mary Cherry assistant is agreeing to it all. Moron! HATE! HATE! I HATE EVERY SINGLE PERSON ON THIS SHOW. ["Also, wardrobe squeezed the assistant into the least flattering top in California and made her perform the entire scene with a raging case of butt-crack-chest-itis. Did someone tell wardrobe to put her in that assy blouse, to make Phoebe look prettier by comparison? ...Nah, that would be petty and mean. And obvious. Alyssa." -- Sars] Eventually, Raige arrives to confront Phoebe regarding Vex's apparent extracurricular dalliances, but Raige doesn't actually come right out and say anything about it directly because we have to endure an endless conversation about how they once agreed -- off-camera and two years ago, apparently -- to stay out of each other's love lives after Phoebe didn't get along with Slampiece Buttfuck and Raige didn't get along with Cole -- who was, mind you, THE SOURCE OF ALL EVIL AT THE TIME and so maybe Raige had a fucking excuse for that, Phoebe -- and this scene goes on and on and on and it includes Phoebe making an entirely self-serving statement about "honoring" her stupid fucking premonitions despite the fact that, as Raige correctly notes, not all of Phoebe's premonitions are meant to be taken literally and MY GOD, WE'RE FIFTEEN MINUTES INTO THE FUCKING EPISODE AND ABSOLUTELY NOTHING HAS HAPPENED YET and then it's over. I think. Yeah, Phoebe's leaving, so I'm pretty sure we're done here.
Oh, Jesus. Back in the nonexistent attic, The Retarded Bimbo's still playing around with her telekinesis and those stupid whippy-around things, so let's just skip ahead to the point where an infuriated Piper bursts into the nonexistent room from the upper hall, followed by her Dolt of a husband, shall we? Oh, I'm sorry. That's not much of a better idea, actually, because what is the cause of Piper's rampant and incessant bitchery this evening? That's right. THAT STUPID FUCKING NORMAL LIFE SHE'S BEEN WHINING ABOUT FOR THE LAST SEVEN FUCKING YEARS THAT SHE NOW HAS. AUUAUAUUGH! Over the strenuous objections of the Dolt, Piper intends to use some spell in the Book of Shadows to concoct the rest of the Psycho's costume for his stupid school play. Eventually, the Dolt convinces Piper to make the costume herselzzzzzzzzzz. Would something fucking happen already? Please? What is it with this tedious shit?
God! Finally! Over in the still-ruined Not!warts, Michelle Stafford smears into the middle of the debris-filled library, where she's greeted by a black-clad Latino demon who's sporting a rather disturbingly feathered yet greasy poof on the top of his head. "Well?" the greasily poofy henchdemon inquires. "I'm beginning to gain the boy's trust," Michelle Stafford allows, before noticing the disarray that surrounds her. "What's taking you so long?" she spits. "You were supposed to have this cleaned days ago!" Some lesser henchdemon begins to protest that reconstructing Not!warts is more difficult than they were led to believe, but before he gets halfway through his sentence, Michelle Stafford shoots across the room to push him into the air by his throat. "I don't want to hear any more excuses, do you understand me?" she howls before flinging the mouthy lesser henchdemon backwards through the air into a stringy vanquish. What? That's what happened: He dissolved into a rapidly deteriorating fringe of stringy demonic bits that presently vanished into the floor. Hey, don't look at me. I'm not the one who comes up with these shitty effects.
In any event, once the mouthy henchdemon's echoing screams have dissipated, Michelle Stafford -- standing in the foreground of the shot in horrendously rendered green-screen, by the way -- once more smoothes her hair and smiles, "We need to create a comfortable place for the boy -- a familiar place, or else he'll never do what I want him to do." Michelle Stafford's tense minions gaze at her warily as she twitches her head around a couple of times before her eyes roll back in their sockets and she drops out of the frame to the floor, leaving behind the dark demonic force who's apparently been possessing her body all this time. Allow me a moment, if you will, to praise the work of the makeup department here. They've uglified Elizabeth Greer, the actress portraying the demonette, to the point that several long seconds had passed before I realized she wasn't a man. In fact, in this initial shot, she sort of looks like Wentworth Miller, of all people. Without the elaborate tattoo, of course. Well, I'm assuming, because she's thoroughly covered up in a black-on-black-on-black turtleneck/dress pants/calf-length coat combo here. In any event, fiendish Elizabeth Greer shoots a withering, contemptuous sneer at Michelle Stafford's unconscious form before turning her beetle-black gaze on her greasily poofy primary henchdemon. "Don't let that thing die," she growls through a set of discolored dentures, referring of course to Michelle Stafford. "Not 'til after I'm done using it to get [the Psycho]." Fiendish Elizabeth Greer's pasty, corpse-like visage hangs on the screen for a moment before disappearing into the first commercial break. ["I thought that effect was a little bit cool. This is what we call 'grasping at straws,' boys and girls." -- Sars]
Manor, the following morning, and they're cribbing so much from the original Desperate Housewives script that I feel like calling Mark Cherry's lawyers for him. Specifically, despite having spent the entire night stitching together the Psycho's pumpkin costume, Piper's as perky and chipper as Lynette was after she turned into a Ritalin junkie. No, I am not kidding with that, and because I am not kidding with that, I'll be skipping the entire stupid scene between Piper and Raige that follows except to note that Raige, overnight, has stumbled across a cunning plan to expose Vex Pexter for the cheating bastard she believes him to be. This should blow. Pun not intended. Maybe.
Not!warts, where Michelle Stafford still lies unconscious on the floor, and wouldn't this supposed Supermom's family have noticed that she's been missing for the last fifteen goddamned hours? Jesus Christ, this show sucks. And it gets even worse when Fiendish Elizabeth Greer steps over Michelle Stafford's body to consult with her greasily poofy primary henchdemon regarding tonight's Nefarious Demonic Plot For World Domination. Fiendish Elizabeth intends, you see, to conjure some previously vanquished entity from The Waste Land, which is impossible, because as we saw three years ago, demons who hit that particular stretch of contrivance are permanently destroyed. Even more asinine? The vanquished demon in question is The Source, and no. NO. Especially because the version of The Source to which she refers is the one eventually portrayed by Peter Woodward, whose Sourcy entitlements were passed first to Cole, then to D'Eartha and the purloined Phoetus before those entitlements ended up splattering all over the sandy floor of The Waste Land, where they were then gobbled up by that worm thing before Cole got rid of it. And so, between the wholesale thievery of a year-old plot from Desperate Housewives, Phoebe's ongoing quest to get herself knocked up, Raige's stupid little Vex-related subplot, and this continuity-slaughtering nightmare, this entire episode has become absolutely worthless. And I've still got more than a half an hour to go. Joy. I suppose I should note, however, the Psycho's role in all of this: Fiendish Elizabeth, not knowing the Charmed Ones still exist, believes she can lure the dead-eyed sociopath away from his supposed guardians and create, with the resurrected Source, a new family for the brat -- one in which he will, of course, grow up to become the most powerful force of evil ever. And we've been through that goddamned plotline about eight or nine times before on this stupid, evil, awful show, and that's not even counting the entire sixth season. Christ. In any event, Fiendish Elizabeth, deploying a bit of her dark demonic mojo, reduces herself to a red-and-black smear that shoots across the room into Michelle Stafford's body. Michelle Stafford snaps open her briefly beetle-black eyes before drawing herself up into sitting position and purring something menacing as we cut over to...
...Raige's annoying subplot, already in progress. She's somehow managed to stalk Vex's gal-pal "Sylvia" back to that outdoor café from earlier and contrives to introduce herself, pretending to have met Sylvia before at one of Vex Pexter's parties. Long story short, Sylvia's an art dealer who used to date Vex a while back, but they "broke up months ago." This comforts Raige until Sylvia lets slip that she and Vex remain fuck buddies, which seems like an awful lot of information to be sharing with someone you barely know, but I gave up on this trash episode five minutes ago, so screw it. Sylvia takes her leave as Raige stumbles across a yet another cunning plan, or something.
Preschool Of The Damned, and what follows makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Evil Michelle Stafford, apparently with the complicity of all of the other mothers at the school -- two of whom appear in this scene and are, for no apparent reason, wretched bitches to Piper -- has conspired to fuck once more with Piper's head and sense of self-worth by switching around the costuming requirements for the Psycho's stupid little Cinderella pageant at the last minute. I mean, I now get why Evil Michelle Stafford is pulling this shit with Piper, but how in the hell did she get all of the other mothers to go along with it? God, I hate this show. Piper's cell rings, and it's the Dolt calling with news that The Retarded Bimbo insists upon visiting Not!warts, but Piper's too caught up in her Issues to care, so the Dolt just urges the wife to return to the Manor before hanging up.
Nonexistent Attic. The Dolt arrives to find The Retarded Bimbo pacing the floor. When he once again nixes the proposed field trip to Not!warts, the stubborn Retard snatches up a vial she'd been preparing during his absence and smashes it into the floor. A white cloud erupts to envelop the pair, whisking them from the nonexistent room and over into the hallway just down from the Not!warts library. The Dolt spots Fiendish Elizabeth's lesser henchdemons busily cleaning, and hauls The Retard into Snidely's old office. The lesser henchdemons, incidentally, are all wearing jeans and button-down shirts, because this show no longer has a production budget that can support tossing its legions of extras into black pleather pants with matching shredwear, apparently. "What are demons doing here?" The Retard dims. "Taking over!" the Dolt gasps. DUN! Also: ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!
Not!warts. Aftermath. The Retarded Bimbo, eyeing Fiendish Elizabeth's greasily poofy primary henchdemon, horns up because she is sorely lacking in taste, which all leads to much outraged chiding from the Dolt, but really. After Phoebe's three-year-long obsession with the Colethazor, he should be used to such stupidity from the women he's chosen to surround himself with. The Dolt insists they return to the Manor immediately, but The Retard, of course, has neglected to bring along the necessary potion, having assumed the Dolt could get them back himself. The camerawork, by the way, has shifted to jittery, hand-held stuff meant to ramp up the sense of urgency and danger, and it's failing miserably. Go figure. In any event, the Dolt quite suddenly remembers a transportation spell that can be found in one of the books, but just as he's about to reveal his plan of attack, two rather fey-looking henchdemons lope around the corner. The Dolt's all, "Pretend you're invisible!" or some such bullshit, but The Retard instead chooses to whip out her fists, activating a burst of telekinetic energy that yanks a set of nunchucks from the wall. The things whip through the air to clock the fey henchdemons in the head, and they drop to the floor, unconscious. "Can you give me a hand?" The Retard asks, clomping over to grab one of the zonked-out fey henchdemons by his feet. "What are you doing?" the Dolt guhs. "If you can't beat 'em," The Retard replies, dragging the henchdemon into Snidely's old office, "join 'em." This should be thrilling. Not.
Manor. Piper enters to find the house empty. And Tiny Gay Chris is...where, exactly? Yet another reason to detest The Retarded Bimbo: She dragged Tiny Gay Chris's primary caregiver over to Not!warts on a selfish whim, thereby leaving the poor, neglected, and doomed little thing all by his lonesome in the basement, which is where they've apparently stashed him now that his wretched excuse for a mother has turned The Patricia Campbell Hearst Commemorative Child-Care Nook back into a closet. I hate this show.
Preschool Of The Damned. Evil Michelle Stafford, cuddling the dead-eyed Psycho in her lap, disparages the peanut-butter-and-jelly-on-whole-wheat sandwich Glamour Piper had prepared for the brat and, after conjuring a cookie for him to snack on instead, urges the Psycho to orb the sandwich into the trash. The Psycho complies. "Good job!" Evil Michelle Stafford enthuses, rocking him back and forth. "Let's do that again!"
Vex Pexter's Physically Impossible Garret. Raige emerges from the elevator, plants herself in the hallway outside his door, mutters a few words of encouragement to herself, and glamours into Sylvia form before entering the physically impossible garret without knocking. How does she even know he's there? Oh, fuck it. This show is useless. Long story short, Raige-as-Sylvia makes a complete ass out of herself but does, in the process, learn that Vex and Sylvia have had zero involvement with each other for the better part of three months. I must admit, Alana De La Garza did a pretty damn good job imitating Rose McGowan's bizarre vocal inflections and awkward, oddly phrased line readings during this scene, but she really should have worked a little harder on mastering the more twitchy elements of McGowan's physical performance. You know, for believability's sake. After all, I'm sure there had to be some star-spangled Floridian snow cones lying around the set to provide her with the necessary motivation and skills. In any event, the Feebs enters during all of this, and Rylvia completely blows her cover by addressing the new arrival by the latter's real name. Phoebe shoots her eyebrows skywards at this but remains silent about it all, even after Rylvia's exited. Out in the hall, Rylvia glamours back down into Raige, who spasmodically lurches out of the frame.
Not!warts, where we find The Retard and the Dolt emerging from Snidely's old office clad in the fey henchdemons' clothing. And I'll just be assuming they sporked those two guys off-screen with a handy athame, or something, because leaving alive dangerous entities that can squiggle or smoke from place to place would simply be criminally stupid in this situation. Though, of course, they would have had to have sporked the fey henchdemons after stripping the latter of their clothes, because as we all know, demonic togs tend to travel with their owners when those owners are dispatched to The Waste Land. From which they can never return. Except for tonight. I hate this show. The Dolt and The Retarded Bimbo exchange a few zippy remarks before heading into the library in search of the much-needed transportation spell.
Once there, the Dolt's dismayed to find the books piled haphazardly on the shelves, which means they could be searching for the correct volume for quite some time. The Retard, meanwhile, is far more interested in the ongoing preparations for Fiendish Elizabeth's intended ritual. Just as she draws the Dolt's attention to the inverted pentagram that Fiendish Elizabeth's greasily poofy primary henchdemon has painted on the far wall, Evil Michelle Stafford smears into the room with the dead-eyed Psycho clutching at one of her hands. "Welcome home, sweetie pie!" Evil Michelle Stafford gushes. The Psycho remains -- natch -- dead-eyed and mute. The flabbergasted Dolt gapes all the way into the commercial break.
Not!warts, where we pick up immediately after we left off. As Evil Michelle Stafford leads the Psycho over to some undoubtedly wicked toys on the floor, the Dolt moves to confront her. The Retarded Bimbo, however, pulls him back, correctly insisting that if he's not careful, he'll get the two of them killed. And that would be a bad thing because...why? They ignore me, with the Dolt instead spinning around to begin a frantic search through the bookshelves. The Retard, for her part, trains her focus on Evil Michelle Stafford, who's rather loudly reviewing her plan with her greasily poofy primary henchdemon. "Found it!" the Dolt whispers, crossing to rejoin The Retard at the table. "Who's The Source?" The Retard asks, referring to the entity she of course overheard being discussed. The Dolt allows himself a moment of sheer panic before pushing the appropriate transportation spell into The Retard's hands, urging her to return to the Manor immediately for backup while he remains at Not!warts to ensure the safety of his horrible brat as best he can. The Retard protests, mainly because the Dolt is completely lacking in the power department at the moment, but he insists. The Retard vanishes into the hall as the Dolt shoots a concerned glance over at mutant freak he calls a son.
Preschool Of The Damned, and wow. It's Emily Valentine from ! And is Christine Elise really forty years old? She's looking pretty damn good for her age, despite her abuse of the black eyeliner in this scene. It only serves to enhance the slight puffiness she's got around her eyes, you see. And...that's all I care about, really. Christine's just here to inform Piper that Evil Michelle Stafford signed the Psycho out and likely took him back to her house for a play date with her son. Piper acidly notes that if that's the case, then what is Evil Michelle Stafford's child still doing at the preschool? Christine hasn't an answer for that one, because she didn't make the guest scroll at the top of the hour because she hasn't had much of a career for the better part of ten years and so finds the number of lines she's allowed to recite sorely limited, so Piper storms out, muttering darkly about Christine's incompetence. Or maybe she was muttering about Evil Michelle Stafford being a dark demonic force sent from the flaming maw of Hell in sweater set and pearls. Whatever it was, I'm not rewinding to check, so you'll just have to live with the uncertainty, 'kay?
Manor. Raige enters through the front door and clatters through the foyer until she's beset by a snarling Feebs, who's unexpectedly lunged from the front parlor to tackle Raige to the carpet, promo-style. They scream at each other over Raige's stupid excursion to Vex Pexter's physically impossible garret for all of eleven seconds until Piper bursts in with news that the Psycho's been kidnapped and the Dolt has gone missing. The action abruptly cuts to the nonexistent attic, where Piper pedeberates herself for not recognizing all of the supposed demonic warning signs Evil Michelle Stafford was sending in her general direction. Piper then orders Raige to scry for the Dolt while she herself abuses the Book of Shadows for any relevant information. Phoebe's just jiggled up to the potions pot to whip up something deadly for Evil Michelle Stafford when The Retard bimbos into the nonexistent room with word of the demonic goings-on over at Not!warts. When she drops The Source bomb on the Glamoured Glamorous Idiots' heads, things get real quiet until Mugs McGowan pierces the silence with a breezy "Well, ladies, how are we enjoying our demon-free existence now?" That depends on how many foo-foo Peruvian sugar boogers you still have shoved into your bra, I suppose. Oh, and shut up, Raige.
Not!warts. Evil Michelle Stafford babytalks at the Psycho while leading him over to a low table, upon which a brass bowl has been placed, surrounded by five candles. The Dolt, seeking to remain as inconspicuous as possible, fumbles around with the books on the far side of the room, but keeps a fretful eye on the proceedings nonetheless. Evil Michelle Stafford kneels and, after ensuring the Psycho's ready to perform his part in the ritual, recites the following:
We call to you that away was torn:
Return, Master Of All Evil Born.
Evil Michelle Stafford prompts the Psycho to poke his index finger in the bowl's contents, promising, "It'll make some really neat magic!" The Psycho complies, and the bowl emits first a reddish glow, then a stream of sparks that leap across the room to dive into the inverted pentagram on the wall. The pentagram's sides burst into crappily CGI'd flames that push out from the wall to spin clockwise for a moment before contracting to spit The Famous Almost-Original Source out all over the floor. "WHERE AM I?" Peter Woodward howls, snacking away on any and all nearby scenery in the process, and dude. For one thing, dial it down about eight or nine notches, okay? We're not deaf. Kisses. For another, I'd be very careful with the scenery chomping if I were you. I mean, they barely have enough money in the budget to cover your salary, much less replacement costs for any Not!warts walls you happen to get stuck in your teeth. "WHO BROUGHT ME BACK?" Peter Woodward continues, and sigh. They never, ever listen to me, do they? Evil Michelle Stafford rather pridefully claims joint responsibility for The Famous Almost-Original Source's continuity-destroying resurrection on behalf of herself and the dead-eyed Psycho as the sullen Psycho balefully glowers all the way into what I'm praying is the final commercial break. Yes, this should be cause for a DUN!, but because I gave up on this awful, painful, wretched, wicked episode long before the end of the second act, I'm withholding the DUN! out of spite.
...and we're back. And I just sat through the entire Famous-Almost-Original-Source-related sequence that follows, up to and including the vanquish we all knew was coming, and I can't think of a single damn thing to say about any of it. Bringing back The Source was a bad, bad idea, crackmonkeys. The only way to explain his reappearance is to contort or demolish every single rule you'd previously established regarding this supernatural world you've created, and as I've spent far too much time cataloguing those rules over the last God knows how many years, I'm far more inclined to forget this episode ever existed than to detail this ass scene.
And yet, detail I must, so here are the facts: Evil Michelle Stafford pitches her Nefarious Demonic Plot For World Domination to the resurrected Source, and after a bit, he decides to go along with it. The Psycho, however, recognizes his massive Dolt of a father and orbs over to him. The Dolt attempts to explain this away by lying that he was one of Zankou's cohort when that particular demon invaded the Manor at the end of last season. Evil Michelle Stafford, for whatever reason, orders the other henchdemons to disperse, which they do just as Raige orbs into Snidely's abandoned office with Piper and Phoebe. While Evil Michelle Stafford, The Famous Almost-Original Source, and the Dolt continue to bicker and sneer at each other down the hall in the library, Piper hisses, "We gotta hurry -- [the Dolt's] in trouble." "How are we going to stop The Source when we have no potions?" Raige gripes. "It's gonna take a lot more than potions," Phoebe warns. Raige's response to this? "How'd you do it last time?" Hey, dumbass! You were there, remember? All three times, in fact. Fuckwit. Eh, chalk the forgetfulness up to massive amounts of Bouncing Uncle Bernie's California Corn Flakes and leave it at that. The shot cuts back to the library proper, where more tedious threats are bandied about before the off-screen gals evidently recite a spell that knocks Fiendish Elizabeth out of Michelle Stafford's body. Piper then unleashes her Mighty Hands Of Discontent, first to blast Fiendish Elizabeth backwards against the far wall, then to blast her straight into The Waste Land. Because the resurrected Source is somehow inextricably entwined with the demon who brought him back, her vanquish erupts to consume him as well -- "for eternity now," as Phoebe would have us believe, but whatever. This show sucks. Piper offers some bitchy commentary regarding the still-unconscious Michelle Stafford before the shot cross-fades...
...into the nighttime closing travelogue. Back at the Manor, The Lippy Spastic enters the nonexistent attic to find The Retarded Bimbo curled up on Aunt Pearl's much-abused sofa, defacing the priceless Book of Shadows with a Sharpie. The Spastic attempts to smack the Book out of The Retard's hands before The Retard can inflict any more damage upon the priceless family heirloom, but she simply manages to twitch herself into a...you know what? Fuck this episode in general, and fuck this scene in particular. The only thing of any sort of importance at all here is Raige admitting to The Retard that the gals are mighty worried about the demonic incursion into Not!warts, like, uh, duuuuuuh. Stupid show.
Down in the foyer, Phoebe answers the doorbell to find Vex Pexter on the front porch, and flirting, and apologies, and flirting some more, AND MY GOD WOULD YOU JUST FUCK HIM ALREADY AND GET THIS WHOLE STUPID STORYLINE OVER WITH ALREADY? GOD! DAMMIT!
Oh, and would you look at that? The scene's over. Hooray!
Preschool Of The Damned. Piper and the Dolt take their seats for the dead-eyed Psycho's insipid Cinderella pageant, and the only thing I feel compelled to note about this scene is the following: Piper's evidently hauled some random infant she found out in the gutter indoors for the festivities. Either that, or some genius on the production staff recast Tiny Gay Chris with a child who's even younger than the last one was. Not to mention thinner. With more hair. And just when I was growing fond of the fugly little blubber wad. Sigh. Stupid Charmed ruins everything! And with that, we finally fade to black.
week, The Retarded Bimbo casts a spell that somehow forces Phoebe and Vex to get married. No, I don't get it, either. And given how utterly brainless this show has become, I'm sure I don't want to. Have fun!