No "Previously" segment on this, Brian Krause's last episode, due to network-mandated budget cuts and certain retarded bimbos I could mention but won't (except for the part where I just did, as I will continue to do throughout the recap), as we fade up on an aerial shot of the Golden Gate's deck with the distant city shimmering in the summer sun until we cut to an overhead of a cable car, before finally cross-fading to the Dolt getting all moist over a "straight six four-speed tranny." No, he's not talking about one of San Francisco's more colorful residents, because we're actually at an antique car lot, and the straight six four-speed tranny belongs to a massive pale-green-and-chrome 1940s-era pickup truck. "Just like the one my grandpa gave me sixty years ago!" the Dolt enthuses. Piper's all, "Inside voice, [Dolt] -- you're barely thirty," and Brian Krause is barely thirty the way I'm barely thirty, which is to say not barely thirty at fucking all, but hey, it's his last episode ever, so maybe I should be nice to the guy. Not. The lot's owner ambles over to toss his sales pitch around a little bit more and, long story short, the wrinkly Dolt convinces the wife that the truck's well worth $9500 of the money they don't have because the club's supposedly on its last legs again and Raige still isn't contributing the Manor's general fund because she's a directionless spastic and Phoebe's minutes away from getting fired because she's been missing work while trying to get knocked up for the last two and half months. This goddamned show. The Dolt plants a sloppy wet one on the wife and heads off with the salesman to start the necessary paperwork. Piper watches him go with a smile that quickly, um, dies, actually, when she swivels her head around to find The Famous Original Angel Of Death standing in the middle of the street, staring at her. Piper's eyes widen and her nostrils flare as a passing car plows straight through Death's spectral body. We get a close-up of his face as he eyes her mildly enough before the camera cuts back over to Piper, who quietly freaks herself right into the opening credits.
Manor. Up in The Prue Halliwell Memorial Bimbo Boudoir Of Paisley Tit Slings And Other Fashion Atrocities, currently occupied by Raige, the lady of the boudoir leaps to her feet and yowls, "What? You saw The Angel Of Death, and you're only telling me this now?" "Well," Piper too-casually shrugs from her perch on the bed, "I didn't want to worry you." Raige works herself into a tizzy, ranting, "The only person that sees him is the person he's coming after," and shut up, Raige. Not a single one of Death's intended targets on this show has ever seen him before they've died. Go ahead, honey, and read the recaps. I dare you to find one person -- one -- who was still non-magically breathing when Death appeared to cart them away. Christ, I hate this show. The two ladies blather needlessly about Death's last visit to the Manor before Piper rather stupidly supposes, "Maybe I just thought I saw him," because she's now the flighty one in the family, I guess, and given to random hallucinations of honest-to-God magical entities. Actually, while her own explanation for the supposed hallucination carries with it a large amount of character continuity, it's not much better than mine. "Maybe I'm doing what I usually do around this point in my life," she explains to a befuddled Raige. "We're demon-light, the boys are happy and healthy, [the Dolt] and I are doing fine, so maybe I'm doing what I always do when everything is going well in my life: I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop." She actually started to babble a bit towards the end of that line, sounding, to Raige at least, like a paranoid lunatic. Raige immediately moves to cancel her lunch date with the lovely Ivan Sergei, but Piper shrieks something about Raige not using Piper's "neurosis to justify [her] own" and insists Raige keep her appointment. "You're gonna go," Piper states, rising from the bed, "and if I see Death, I'll call ya." "Fine!" Raige snits. "But if he gets you, I am never talking to you again!" Wah. Wah. Waaaaaah. Piper smirks in amusement as Raige pulls an intentionally exaggerated stink-face and vanishes from the frame.
Meanwhile, over at Not!warts, they've tossed the two women I hate the most together for a scene that's actually important to this evening's plot because somebody on this godawful show's staff evidently wants me dead. I suppose, though, that I should note all four of the primary female characters tonight are wearing black: Raige's dress, Piper's loose top, Phoebe's denim jacket, and The Retarded Bimbo's current demonic slutwear. On this series, that counts as subtlety. In any event, The Retard paces the floor in the center of the Library while Phoebe hides behind a table, and the two whisper at each other about some demon who remains unspecified throughout this bit, but who actually abducted The Retard's stupid sister that nobody cares about all those many years ago. Just then, Phoebe's cell phone rings, and they recycle a joke from last season about killer reception and whatnot before Phoebe answers to find Piper on the other end. After much dithering on Piper's part, she finally admits to Phoebe that she had a Death spotting earlier in the day, and warns Phoebe not to take on any dark demonic sorts until they can figure out what's going on. Too late, for "Reinhardt" is now flaming into the outer hall, all Manson Lamps and bald head and embarrassing facial hair and bizarre tattoos. At least he doesn't have a British accent. Thank heaven for small favors. The Retard lisps her way through the ensuing confrontation, so I'll be skipping ahead to the point where Reinhardt starts kicking her stupid, oddly proportioned ass around the room.
Just as The Retard makes threatening noises about the demon who hired Reinhardt to kidnap "Chrissssssty" fifteen years ago, the rather attractive demon in question sort of spark-shudders into the room with a miniature crossbow trained at The Retard's head. Phoebe shouts out a warning, but it's too late, for Reinhardt's Freddy Krueger claw has snatched The Retard by her maggoty throat, and the demon now wrestles her around in a semi-circle that unfortunately places him directly in the path of one of the new arrival's arrows. The missile spikes into Reinhardt's neck, knocking him out almost instantly. "Burke" unleashes an arrow in Phoebe's direction, but she scampers behind one of the table's heavy legs at the last instant, and the poisoned dart plows harmlessly into the wood. Burke then speed-shudders over to The Retard to sneer, "Nice try, witch," before crouching to place a paw on Reinhardt's knee and sputter on out of there with the unconscious mercenary. The Retard rages about losing the only clue she had to her sister's disappearance. Shut the fuck up, Retard. Nobody fucking cares about you or your goddamned stupid sister. Cow.
The shot cuts to Raige, wearing a depressingly familiar top at an outdoor café on her lunch date with the lovely Ivan Sergei. She's awkwardly asking him if he has any brothers and sisters, which is more than a little odd, because as we'll shortly see, they're about to pay the check, and you'd think this ground would have been covered already. (By the way, the answer to Raige's question is no, or none that he knows of, at any rate, because he was bounced from foster home to foster home as a child, as you'll recall from last week's episode.) Doesn't matter much, though, because Sergei and McGowan are still delightfully at ease with one another in this scene, and so the characters' flirtatious steps and occasional missteps towards romance have yet to annoy me. Well, until right this very instant, actually. Ivan picks up the check, does some quick math, and lets Raige know that her half of the bill is $14.50. He darts out of the frame to get some change, oblivious to Raige's snotty and disbelieving sneer, just as her cell goes off. It's Piper, of course, wondering if Raige is okay. "No, I'm not," is Raige's peevish response. Peevish and thoughtless, actually, for Piper instantly leaps to conclusions to fret, "Whaddya mean? Did you see Death?" "Nah," Raige casually replies, "just a cad," and fuck you, Raige. He's splitting a $29 lunch tab with you, not screwing your bony, hag-ass slut of a half-sister. Whatever. And it was going so well. Piper panics a bit about Phoebe fighting demons and Raige navigating the city streets in her tiny Volkswagen, what with Death roaming the land and all, but Raige just hangs up on her to take her own leave of the just-returned Ivan -- which she does by caustically tossing him a twenty with snotty instructions to keep the change before flouncing away from the table in a righteous snit. Ivan, quite naturally, is perplexed. ["I can see why, given that it's 2005. Shut up, Raige." -- Sars]
Back at the Manor, Piper storms into the garage that they've never had before tonight because this show is ass and I want to die to berate at the Dolt for working on his antique truck. "What if it fell?" she ululates, dragging him out from beneath the thing on his little dolly. "You could be crushed! You could get killed!" "Don't be silly," he protests. "It's up on jacks!" "So?" Piper flails. "You never know!" And you, dear lady, never provide relevant information when it's most necessary. Example? This entire, pointless scene. Does Piper tell the husband that The Angel Of Death was apparently stalking her that morning? Of course not, because that would make sense, and we can't be having any of that on this stupid show. No, instead she just waffles around the garage, nattering on about one goddamned unimportant thing or another, while the Dolt just stands there looking sympathetic and supportive and doomed. Idiots. Eventually, Piper ends the scene by abruptly pulling the Dolt into a kiss before whispering, "I love you," and racing out of that garage they've never had before tonight. The Dolt watches her go, all, "Buh?"
"All right, mister!" Piper calls out up in the nonexistent attic. She places a couple of determined fists on her hips as she continues, "I know you're lurking somewhere, and if you want something, you need to get your grim-reaping ass down here or stop bugging me!" Death has rather amusingly materialized silently off-screen, as is his wont, so that by the time the camera finishes circling around Piper in the foreground of the shot, we can see him in the blurry background, testily folding his arms at that whole "grim-reaping ass" bit of her little tirade. Heh. "There's no need to be rude," he huffs. Piper's eyes widen a bit at his stealth appearance behind her as he continues, "I was only trying to do you a favor." "Favor?" Piper ices as she turns slowly to face him. "Well, I don't want any favors from you." "Oh, you'll want this one," he assures her. Piper's eyes narrow slightly at this and a small, troubled line appears between her brows. "You know," Death sighs, "my job was so much easier before I met you and your sisters -- it was so much less...complicated." "For what it's worth," Piper foolishly snots, "I don't think taking people's lives should be all that easy to do." Hey, dumbass? Yeah, over here. First off, he doesn't take lives; he simply escorts those who have passed on to their level of existence -- which you should know because you had the same goddamned job for an entire day last year. And secondly? Well, there is no secondly, actually. Just shut up, Piper. And then Death agrees with her, because Death has become a moron, too. "It never is," he replies. "Still, it's inevitable." "You're not taking me," Piper insists, her tone challenging him to try. "You're right," he replies, mildly enough, "I'm not." Piper frowns, and almost seems ready to deploy the Mighty Hands Of Discontent in a fit of pique. Death carefully advances upon her and finally drops the bomb: "I'm taking [the Dolt]." "What?" Piper spits. Death, sort of self-centered about the whole thing, which is pretty damn funny, brushes past Piper's outrage to puzzle, "It's curious -- I actually feel bad about it." "No doubt a reflection of my knowing you," he continues, nodding in her direction before reminding her, "I don't normally get to know people long in my line of work, obviously."
Piper, cutting through the crap, clenches her teeth and seethes, "You can't have him." "You don't have a choice," Death duhs, and all of this again is a lesson she learned last year, so I don't know why he's being so patient with her, but whatever. Death admits that, because of his long history with the Manor Morons, he simply wanted to warn Piper in order "to give [her] time to prepare." "No!" Piper blurts, furiously shaking her head. Death simply states, "I'm afraid you don't have much time." Piper, struggling to control her emotions, closes her eyes and takes a few quick breaths before opening them again to demand, "Why?" "I'm not about why or how," he needlessly reminds her, "I'm simply when -- you know that." "It's not right, and it's not fair," she interjects, ignoring his implication and shaking her head once more, "not after everything we've gone through and everything we've been promised." "There's a reason for everything," he shrugs, not unkindly, "even this. You know that, too, Piper." "I am sorry," he concludes before vanishing in his smoky twist of Death's-head mojo.
Piper, thus left alone in the nonexistent room, hesitates not a second before heading over to the potions table. She snatches up a small pad of paper and a pen and wings the following spell, which she then reads aloud:
Hide him from sight
So I might fight.
Ignore which leaves bereft:
My husband from The Angel Of Death.
And that makes no goddamned sense at all, now does it? "Ignore my husband from The Angel Of Death"? Maybe if I fiddle with the punctuation a little...oh, fuck it. We'll just chalk it up to Piper being distraught and leave it at that, I suppose. A magical glissade hits the soundtrack after she's finished her recitation, followed by a loud crashing noise from below. Piper snaps her head around in the direction of the upper stairs before shooting out of the frame to end up in...
...that garage they've never had before tonight, and if we're meant to believe that the crashing noise she heard all the way up in the nonexistent attic originated in this garage, this show can blow me. "[Dolt]?" she calls out hesitantly. After a few non-tense-making moments, he pops up from behind the truck to wonder what gives. Once more, Piper refuses to level with the husband, but at least this time she can use the Manor's suddenly and conveniently bleating cordless phone for an excuse. At least temporarily. The Dolt retrieves the thing from his nearby tool chest and answers to find an evidently frenzied Raige on the other end of the line. He quickly passes the phone to Piper, who opens with a curt, "What?" "Whaddya mean, 'What'?" Raige exasperates from an anonymous street corner elsewhere in the city. "Do you have any idea what is going on down here?" "What's the matter?" Piper demands. "You are never gonna believe it," a flabbergasted Raige sighs as a badly green-screened Dolt-alike passes in front of her. Another Dolt-alike -- this one actually physically present in the shot and sporting a navy blue business suit -- accidentally bumps into Raige and mutters an apology before exiting the frame. We finally cut to Raige's point-of-view of the street to discover that Piper's little spell has apparently transformed every single man in the city into the Dolt's twin. We also discover that this show's drastically reduced effects budget has resulted in this entire sequence looking like hot buttered ass, what with the indifferent green-screening of Cop Dolt, Trendoid Dolt, Louche Dolt, Preppie Dolt, Dot-Com Dolt, and Personal Shopper Dolt into the shot. The color tones and apparent light sources are all horribly fucked up, and the only Dolt who isn't suffering as a result is Driving Dolt, who evidently was actually on the backlot for all of this, rather than bumbling about some interior set. God, I hate this show. In any event, we eventually cut back to Raige, who goggles her way into the first commercial break.
Manor. Aftermath. The Glamorous Ladies have gathered on the sun porch for a rather frantic processing summit. Phoebe and Raige are bright-siding that the fact that every man in town is sporting the Dolt's wrinkly chimpanzee face must be confusing The Angel Of Death, but Piper's having none of it, reminding the others that it's only a matter of time, and besides, the Dolt could quite simply slip in the shower or fall down the stairs, so clumsy and bumbling is he. "We'll find a way," Raige insists, before wandering into a non-sequitur by wondering whatever happened to The Retarded Bimbo. "She's upstairs," Phoebe replies, "trying to find the demon who took her demon." "Why don't you go keep an eye on her?" Piper suggests, adding in a mumbled almost-aside, "Make sure she doesn't get herself killed." "Are you sure?" Phoebe asks, and heh. No, Feebs. You just sit there on the wicker love seat and let the stupid Retard blow her brainless self up, or whatever. Piper unfortunately disagrees with me, so Phoebe heads up to the nonexistent attic while Raige again assures Piper, "We're gonna figure out how to save him." "Save who?" the suddenly appearing Dolt inquires. Piper and Raige, both in head-to-toe black, just stare at him. "What?" the Dolt dims. Heh.
The screen flares white to dump us down in Burke's Underworld lair, and this certainly is an unnecessary scene given everything that's going on topside this evening. Shame, actually, because the effects are fairly decent, and Darren Pettie is certainly having a grand old time growling his way through Burke's lines, but whatever. Long story short, Burke's a sort of demonic middleman whose services were employed by some "far more powerful force" years ago to arrange for the kidnapping of the stupid Retard's stupid sister that nobody cares about. He contracted the job out to Reinhardt, who violated the terms of the agreement by more or less admitting his role in the caper to The Retard herself, and so Reinhardt must suffer. Or something like that. Burke's got a nifty little magical crystal set-up that's more than slightly reminiscent of Superman's up in the latter's Fortress of Solitude, by the way, and he's inserted and activated one crystal to ensnare Reinhardt within an invisible force field upon a low dais for this bout of expository blather. As Burke ambles menacingly around Reinhardt's trapped form, we can also see that he's got five or six entities on ice in elaborate cryogenic chambers lined up against the cavern's far wall -- "others who didn't do as they were told" who are now Burke's "living trophies," so we can see where he's going with all of this, right? And eventually, he gets there, slotting another crystal into its appropriate hole and twisting it to flash-freeze Reinhardt in his very own magically materializing cryogenic chamber. The screen flares white once more to zap us back to...
...the nonexistent attic, where The Retarded Bimbo's Book of Shadows abuse has landed her on Burke's entry. It's a little too blurry for me to read, but it does seem to include a vanquishing spell. Just so you know. A solemnly contemplative Feebs enters from the upper stairs to be assaulted almost immediately by The Retard's lispy enthusiasm, and shut up, Retard. Phoebe's inclined to agree with me, so I'll be ignoring The Retard's selfishly outraged tirade about needing to find her stupid sister that nobody cares about RIGHT NOW and to hell with the Dolt to note that they're pulling that same ultra-soft-focus-for-Milano, ultra-harsh-focus-for-everyone-else-in-the-scene they last used to hilarious effect in "Sand Francisco Dreaming." Oddly enough, it's not nearly as funny this time around, mainly because the ultra-harsh focus is hitting the already obnoxiously fugly Kaley Cuoco, who needs to be fired from this hateful show immediately. Stupid Retard ruins everything. Long story short, Phoebe gently insists that she can't abandon her own family to assist The Retard in the latter's boring quest given everything that's going on at the moment, so the unbearable Retard shrills something unpleasant and clomps out of the nonexistent room to go after her stupid sister's kidnapper alone. I hope she dies.
Meanwhile, down in the Bridal Boudoir, the Dolt's pacing the floor in a fury, grunting, "Why didn't you tell me? You don't think I have a right to know?" Piper, perched on her hope chest at the foot of the bed, splutters an excuse that the Dolt ignores in favor of launching himself into a massive pity party. "You're not going to [die]," Piper insists. "I'm not going to let it happen." "How, huh?" he demands incredulously. "By hexing every man so he looks like me? It's not gonna stop him!" "That wasn't the plan!" Piper agitates, leaping to her feet. "I'm scared, too!" This admission snaps the Dolt out of it, and the two move in for a clinch. There follows a lengthy scene during which Piper increasingly loses control of her emotions, and Holly Marie Combs sells the hell out of it, but I swear to God this is, like, the fifteenth time the Dolt's been imperiled in the last seven and a half years, and I just can't be bothered to care anymore. Not that I cared too much about the character in the first place, of course, but you can see my point. You can't have the guy nearly die as a Whitelighter three or four times, and you can't have the guy as an Elder abandoning his family five or six times, and you can't have the guy as an Avatar sacrificing himself only to pop back to life after it's all over, and still expect me to get all antsy about this shit now. I don't even feel like digging up the appropriate links. Whatever, show. In any event, Piper tears up and vows to protect him, but she stresses that he must remain in the Manor until they've sorted the situation out. Which of course means the stupid Dolt will leave the Manor on some asinine mission in the ten minutes and get his stupid self killed. Again. Oy. Piper books from the Boudoir, leaving the Dolt alone to pout and feel sorry for himself.
As Piper hits the lower landing on the main stairs, she's rather shocked to find Death waiting for her in the main hall. Hee. I love Death-In-A-Box. "I trust you've said your goodbyes," he opens, which doesn't make much sense, because enough time has passed since Piper recited the spell for Death to notice that San Francisco is positively teeming with Dolts at the moment, but this show is ass, so whatever. They've been saving Death's realization of what's actually going on for this scene, and logic be damned. Just as Death demands the Dolt's presence in the foyer, the doorbell rings. Raige too brightly sings, "Oooh! I'll get it!" and swings open the front door to reveal the bored Pizza Delivery Dolt loafing around on the front porch. "Oh, hi!" Raige perks. "Do you, um, mind just putting it on the table?" Pizza Delivery Dolt gets a far-too-amusing lascivious leer on his face as he sidles past her into the front hall, and bamp-chicka-bamp-ew, and the doorbell rings again to herald the arrival of Dry-Cleaning Delivery Dolt, and since when do dry-cleaners deliver? Stupid show. The camera cuts back to Death looking increasingly annoyed for a moment as the doorbell rings again and Raige admits yet another Dolt-alike who's there to repair the much-abused grandfather clock. That's sort of funny, actually. "What's the meaning of this?" Death finally demands. "What can I tell you?" Piper blithely replies. "I run a very busy household." And to arrive on the front porch is Ivan. Well, Ivan in Dolt form, so I suppose he's Divan for this scene. Pity I've been ignoring the character's actual name, Henry, because by now I'm sure I'd be calling him Hank, which means he'd actually be Dank for what follows. As Raige stammers with surprise, the one true Dolt lopes down the stairs to note the plague of Dolts currently swarming the first floor as his wife frosts The Angel Of Death with, "I told you: I will not let you take my husband." Death makes a few threatening remarks before The One True Dolt concocts some repair-related excuse to angle noticeably around both Piper and Death to exit through the back of the house, and that was a completely bungled moment. If The One True Dolt physically avoided bumping into The Angel Of Death, wouldn't The Angel Of Death have realized The One True Dolt was the guy he's been looking for? Whatever, Charmed. Death vows to get his man, or something, and vanishes in a smoky twist of Death's-head mojo. Piper presses her eyes shut and sighs.
Meanwhile, out on the front porch, Raige, freaked by her boyfriend's current resemblance to her brother-in-law, pretty much blows Divan off and scampers back into the house. Divan snorts, "Fine!" and sulks his way down the steps to the sidewalk below. Scene.
The shot cuts to pan across a few of the skyscrapers downtown before diving abruptly into a street below, where we find Taxi Driver Dolt idling at the curb with The One True Dolt anxiously bouncing around in the back seat. The One True Dolt passes Doltis Bickle a twenty, telling him to scram for a sec, and for some mindbendingly stupid reason, Doltis Bickle complies. You know what would have been funny, though? If Taxi Driver Dolt talked like Apu Nahasapeemapetilon from The Simpsons. Shouldn't surprise me to learn that Brian Krause can't do accents, though. In any event, turns out The One True Dolt's parked himself across from The Preschool Of The Damned and is apparently waiting to catch sight of the dead-eyed and bemulleted Psycho because The One True Dolt is a fucking idiot who deserves what's coming to him. Death mojos himself into the back seat to The One True Dolt and rather wryly appraises the terrified expression on The One True Dolt's face. "Who are you?" the Dolt stupidly demands. "If you can see me," Death replies, his mouth twisting into an amused smirk, "then you know." The Dolt then bores both Death and yours truly by begging for his life, going so far as to mention that he gave up on being a Whitelighter and an Elder so he could spend more time with his family, and Death and I are both like, "Well, see, there you go, dumbass. If you'd stuck with one or the other of those gigs, you wouldn't have found yourself in your current situation, now would you?" We both really should be kinder to the poor, dumb Dolt, though. I mean, the real reason all of this is happening is because Brad Kern unceremoniously fired Brian Krause after seven and a half years of loyal service so Kern could keep his precious maggoty-necked Bimbo in the opening credits, so I should be taking it out on the evil bastard ultimately responsible for this hot mess, right? And yet, Dolt-bashing is so much fun. What to do? Point and laugh, I suppose, when Death quietly mojos on out of there so The One True Dolt can get creamed by a monster truck that barrels in from out of nowhere to slam into the side of the taxi just as the Dolt's about to exit. Hee. The impact, which really should have hacked off both of the Dolt's legs at the knee, simply hurls him unconscious and bleeding across the back seat as the taxicab's horn blares straight into the commercial break.
The Only Hospital In San Francisco. Piper, looking suspiciously Piper Of Death in that long black coat of hers, storms through the hallway with an aggravatingly glittery Raige to assault the ER's receiving nurse. By the way, all of the other gentlemen in the city have been de-Doltified during the break, what with the spectacular round of Dolt abuse just prior to the commercials having cut off the effects of Piper's spell. The nurse is, of course, rudely dismissive, so Piper's rudely aggressive in return, snatching the phone away from the woman and demanding to see her husband right now. A nearby doctor, overhearing the argument, warily steps over to give Piper the bullet on the Dolt. They need to perform an "exploratory laparotomy," you see, to find out why the Dolt's bleeding out internally. Piper freaks and freezes everyone in the hospital. After taking a moment to collect herself, she flicks her hands around to break the freeze and asks if she can see the Dolt before they take him into surgery. The doctor looks doubtful, but Piper's glare of determination guarantees we're soon...
...panning across various machines that go "Ping!" before landing on the Dolt's battered and hastily stitched together Frankenface as Piper enters the otherwise deserted ward from elsewhere to take his hand. He flutters his eyes open, and Piper whispers a few urgent words of encouragement until an off-screen voice intrudes to announce they're ready to escort Frankendolt up to the OR. The shot cuts out to the hall as a team of orderlies wheels Frankendolt away. Raige, who'd been speaking with a uniformed police officer, carefully picks her way over to Piper's side with both an incredibly stupid assertion and an incredibly stupid idea. "Things like this don't just happen to us," she insists and no, Raige, things like this do happen to you all the time. Just ask your spicy blackened parents if you don't believe me. Moron. "What if this isn't just an accident?" she continues, ignoring me. "What if there's something demonic behind it?" The cops have the monster truck's driver in custody, Raige reveals, and she intends to interrogate the gentleman herself. "How does that help [Frankendolt]?" Piper tiredly inquires. "If there's something magical going on here," Raige reasons, "maybe something magical can fix it." Despite her underlying belief that Raige is grasping at straws, Piper encourages Raige to "see what [she] can do." As for Piper, she's off to figure out another way to cheat Death.
The screen flares white to dump us back down in Burke's underground lair, where The Retarded Bimbo's examining each of Burke's cryogenically preserved trophies until she spots Reinhardt and gasps, and how the dim bitch contrived to transport herself to the Underworld, I'll never know, nor will I ever care, and shut up, Retard. Burke enters to further The Retard's stupid missing-sister-related plotline along, and the only entertaining moment of the endless scene that follows is when he speed-shudders behind her to pimp smack her lispy ass all the way across the chamber floor. Unfortunately, before Burke can get his freeze on with The Retard, Phoebe, of all people, appears from out of nowhere to skewer Burke with one of his own poisoned arrows, and how she herself transported into the Underworld and how she managed to get her damned hands on Burke's miniature crossbow, I'll never, ever know, and fuck you, Charmed. The Retard briefly fills the Feebs in on the whole Burke sitch, and then the screen flares once more to deposit us...
...topside in the Manor parlor, where Piper's somehow managed to summon The Angel Of Death for a summit. Piper vows to have The Psycho heal his father if she has to, but you totally know they just tossed that line in there because someone -- perhaps Holly Marie Combs herself -- took one look at the script for this evening's presentation and said, "Well, duh. Why don't they just have Wyatt heal Leo if the situation's so fucking dire?" And Holly? Thanks for asking that question, but the solution your so-called superiors arrived at -- simply inserting that sentence into a completely unrelated conversation and never following up on it for the rest of the episode -- is ass, so you really shouldn't have bothered, because now all I'll be doing for the rest of the night is wondering, "Where's The Psycho? Why don't you get The Psycho to heal Frankendolt? Huh? Is he napping? Then wake him up! What the fuck is wrong with you stupid, stupid people?" See? Totally counterproductive, especially because by this point in the show's run, I'm paying so little attention to what actually happens that you could have slipped The Psycho's absence this evening right past me and I'd never have noticed. Ugh. In any event, the scene that follows deals almost exclusively with Piper's suspicion that the Dolt's accident was nothing of the sort, and she peppers The Angel Of Death with questions regarding the Grand Design and who is ultimately responsible for what's happening to her husband. Death clearly knows what's really going on, and it's equally clear he's in no way at liberty to discuss the details with Piper. He does, however, pointedly suggest she confront those whose duty it is to know more about the Grand Design than he does. And with that, he vanishes for the last time this evening in his smoky twist of Death's-head mojo. "Thank you," Piper whispers. Indeed. Simon Templeman's performance was one of two or three bright spots in an otherwise awful episode. Why was this shit not cancelled last May?
The shot cuts to the Manor exterior for a bizarrely placed time-lapse of the clouds shooting through the sky above the façade before heading back in to the sun porch, where an Avatar we've never seen before materializes almost simultaneously with a heretofore unknown ever-useless Elder. They glare at each other until the ever-useless Elder spits, "What are you trying to do?" in Piper's direction. "I'm trying to save my husband," she simmers, turning slowly to face him before carefully enunciating, "Any way I can." The camera lingers on her stony expression before dropping into the commercial break.
Back from the break, the Avatar and the ever-useless Elder sneer and snipe at each other over past slights for a very lengthy period of time before Piper cuts through all of the crap to get to the point. Both the Avatars and their rivals in Whitelighterland "owe" the Dolt, so one or the other is going to save him, or else. There's a long pause in which the Avatar and the Elder keep shooting guilty side-eyes at each other until Piper finally snaps, "Well, somebody say something!" The ever-useless Elder eventually allows that it's not so much that they won't heal the Dolt; it's that they can't. The strangely delicate Avatar hastens to agree, informing Piper, "Using our powers to save [Frankendolt] is a path that neither Elder nor Avatar can travel." "Hang on a second," Piper peeves. "Are you telling me that the first time you two agree on anything is when you decide to let my husband die?" The Avatar and the ever-useless Elder are all, "Pretty much, yeah." Piper excuses herself for a moment and heads down into the Manor basement, where she rummages through the boxes and shelves for about fifteen minutes until she finally locates Prue's Enormous Bitch, which for some silly reason or another she'd misplaced for the last three years. After straining through the effort of strapping it on all by her lonesome, Piper then lumbers back up the rickety stairs, through the kitchen, and onto the sun porch -- careful not to topple any of Grams's priceless antiques with the thing along the way -- and gets all up in the ever-useless Elder's face to howl, "YOU LISTEN TO ME! Leo at one point in his life believed in both of your causes -- he devoted his life at the expense of his family to those beliefs -- and you're telling me that you won't save that life? Why the hell can't you tell me what's going on? What is your big secret?" More guilty stares from the higher-ranking magical entities on the sun porch before the ever-useless Elder, choosing his words carefully, admits, "We don't have the...authority to share that information." Piper's all, "Fine, you worthless loser, so who does?" "You might want to think twice before going there," the strangely delicate Avatar eyebrows. Piper whips Prue's Enormous Bitch around to bark, "Going where?" Some otherworldly choir joins the tense strings on the soundtrack as the ever-useless Elder counsels, "You're going to need your sisters." Several on the forums got quite excited at this moment, because it does seem like the gals are being directed straight to this show's version of God, or whomever. However, I never thought they'd touch the very idea of a singular deity with a bargepole on this garbage, and it turns out I was right. Not that I'm happy about that at all. Seriously. Piper's awfully tense about the whole thing, though, isn't she? Seems Prue's Enormous Bitch will be of no use to her during the trials to come, alas. Just when I was getting used to its glorious return to the small screen, too. And where are those wacky sisters of hers, anyway?
Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World, as luck would have it. Well, Raige is there, at any rate. She arrives in Ivan's office in that grotesque sequined sweater of hers to ask for a favor, but he demands an explanation for her earlier behavior first. Long story short, she's an old-fashioned kind of gal who believes the gentleman should pay for the meal when said gentleman "specifically asks [her] out on a date." At this last, Ivan plants a halting finger in the air and asks, "Who did that?" "You did," Raige duhs. "I? Uh, no," he insists. Raige argues otherwise: "You said, 'Would you like to go for lunch on a date?'" No, Raige, Ivan actually said, "Would you like to go for lunch at Nate's?" and now Raige feels like a complete asshole, and I have no idea why I typed out that entirely pointless conversation, aside from the fact that these two are probably the most engaging couple to have appeared on this show since Hot Zankou and Secretly INSANE Brody totally flirted with each other during The Change last season. Also, the favor Raige came to ask is completely stupid and even more pointless than this little dating exchange was, and perhaps I was attempting to avoid it. Alas, I cannot, so here it is: She wants some alone time with the monster truck driver who smashed into Frankendolt all those many scene ago. Ivan agrees, and we're shunted over to the precinct's interrogation room, where we meet the monster truck driver in question, and he's a thorough pain in the ass with a luridly fake Joisey accent, so let's skip ahead to the point where Raige is finally left alone with the annoying bastard, whereupon she latches onto his shoulder and orbs him back to...
...the nonexistent attic. There follows an endless filler scene in which Raige tosses a truth potion into the guy's chest, or whatever, and he starts babbling about inconsequential crap until Piper, cold fury etched into her face from her earlier confrontation down on the sun porch, strides in from the upper stairs and orders Raige to get rid of the mouthy little shit. Raige gapes as the screen flares white, and we're back...
...in Burke's lair. The Feebs and The Retarded Bimbo threaten Burke with the deep freeze unless he spills all he knows about The Retard's stupid sister that nobody cares about, until Phoebe's unceremoniously yanked from the scene in a swirling cloud of glowing golf balls. The Retard simpers. Shut UP, Retard.
Back in the nonexistent attic, Phoebe rematerializes to goof, "You know, a phone call would have done the trick!" "We're running out of time," Raige flatly states, harshing Phoebe's dizzy-headed buzz. "And so is [Frankendolt]," Piper unnecessarily adds.
And speaking of Frankendolt, here he is now, being wheeled out of surgery and right into another commercial break! That was weird. Also: Gross. The makeup department did a number on Frankendolt's face, and in addition to the stitches and gashes and such, he's now looking jaundiced for some ridiculous reason or another. It's disturbing, and for all the wrong reasons. Poor Brian Krause. I wonder what he did to piss everyone off so much. You know, aside from the obvious.
Back in the nonexistent attic, the camera starts circling The Glamorous Ladies, as is its wont whenever they're deep in the throes of collective emotional distress. The three debate the propriety of summoning The Angel Of Destiny for a very long time until Piper puts her foot down and demands her sisters' compliance. The three link hands, and Piper recites the following from memory:
Power of Three, we summon thee,
And call to us The Angel Of Destiny.
The camera, which had circled the gals through all of the above, now cuts to a spinning overhead of the three as Piper finishes the spell. A bright burst of glowy golden mojo erupts at the center of the Charmed Ones' circle and starts spinning counterclockwise, against the camera's direction, before the shot cuts again to find the startled ladies breaking apart as the burst explodes into a cascade of light that eventually reveals the berobed form of Denise Dowse, the erstwhile Mrs. Teasley of Beverly Hills, , and let me tell you something: Mrs. Teasley still isn't taking any shit at all from bony-assed white chicks, as she instantly proves by immediately glowering, "Who are you to summon me?" "Y-y-you don't look like the one we've met before," Raige stammers. "He's got a gig on Desperate Housewives, and I haven't held a steady job since they finally cancelled The Guardian," The Angel Of Teasley does not reply, choosing instead to note, "There are many destinies, and many angels." Whatever you say, Mrs. T. God, I hate this show. After a bit of sniping, Piper gets to the point with, "This was not just any random accident -- there's more to it than that, and I want to know what." "Who says there's more?" The Angel Of Teasley regally demands. "The Angel Of Death," Piper instantly snots back. "And an Elder," Raige adds. "And an Avatar," Phoebe sneers, completing the set. The Angel Of Teasley elicits a small smile from yours truly when she sniffs, "Looks like I'm going to have to have a little chat with them." Hee. The Angel Of Death is totally pissing his pants right now. You just know Mrs. Teasley's going to beat Death like a redheaded stepchild once she finally gets her hands on him.
Anyway, long story short, Piper insists that The Angel Of Teasley level with them -- is there a way the Charmed Ones might reach their foreseen destiny without sacrificing Frankendolt? The Angel Of Teasley's eyes flip golden yellow for a moment -- during which she's either peering into the future or contacting her fellow angels, your choice -- before they snap back and she lays the following bit of science on the Glamorous Ladies' asses: "There's one more battle on the horizon for you three, one unlike you've ever faced before. One you won't see coming, and one" -- here she pauses for effect -- "you may not survive." Piper's all, "And this involves my massive Dolt of a husband...how, exactly?" The Angel Of Teasley patiently explains that the budgetary restrictions imposed upon the series by the suits at the WB as a condition for its renewal this season have forced Brad Kern to choose between Kaley Cuoco and Brian Krause, and Kern -- foul, Satanic jackass that he is -- went with the lispy bimbo. Or maybe The Angel Of Teasley offers the following harebrained excuse: "The loss -- the pain -- will motivate you to fight, without which you will have no chance to prevail." And here's where the Piper we've known up to now would call bullshit on the entire plan and flatly refuse to go along with it. Unfortunately, the typewriting crackmonkeys responsible for this garbage have chosen instead to gift us with the sniveling, spineless wretch we now see before us. Thanks for nothing, assholes. Phoebe thinks fast and comes up with a compromise, because she's so smart. The screen flares white once more to escort us back...
...into the Underworld, and I'll be ignoring the unbearably lispy and crooked-mouthed Bimbo to get to the point, such as it is. The Dolt's to be entombed in one of Burke's cryogenic storage containers until the Manor Morons win their impending battle. Just go with it, 'cause this dire shit is almost over with, and I don't think I can take my head exploding one more time this evening. The Angel Of Teasley summons Frankendolt from The Only Hospital In San Francisco, apparently healing him along the way. Oh, and restoring to him the clothes he was wearing prior to the accident, as well. This stupid show. There follows a lengthy and teary goodbye that Holly Marie Combs again sells to hell and back, but about which I could not care less at this point, because -- again -- I've seen this exact same scene seventy-three times already on this awful, evil show that should have been cancelled last May. After it's over, Burke futzes with his Superman crystals, and we have now achieved Doltsicle. Everyone looks very, very sad. The Angel Of Teasley takes a moment to assure The Retarded Bimbo that the latter will succeed in recovering that stupid sister of hers that nobody cares about, before reminding Piper, "If you prevail, [the Dolt] will be returned." And with that, she erupts into a buzzing swarm of tiny golden lights that morphs into darting swirl of mojo that dematerializes the Doltsicle on its way up through the ceiling. The Glamorous Ladies regroup with The Retarded Bimbo, who never should have been a part of this scene in the first place, and after Piper bleats a heartbroken, "Let's go home," Raige pulls them all into a Manor-bound cloud of orbs.
Burke, left alone, smirks in triumph -- he'd brokered an amnesty for himself, you see -- until an ominous veil of luminous green dust materializes to shimmer around him. "Wait!" he hisses in protest. "I did what you asked, didn't I?" The dust veil responds by constricting around him until Burke implodes, devoured by a demon-vanquishing gout of flame. The cloud, now a glowy smear, shoots across the room before Burke's screams have finished echoing through the cavern to demolish the cryogenically preserved Reinhardt as well. As the remnants of Reinhardt's chamber shatter on the stone floor, the dust cloud quietly disappears.
The brief closing travelogue whisks us across the nighttime city and into a wordless montage of grief. Well, grief for Raige and Piper, actually, because festive Phoebe's as sunny and gleeful as she always is when confronted with death. Brainless simp. Raige, openly weeping, appears unannounced in Ivan's office and staggers into a desperate embrace with the all-too-sensitive parole officer. They are so doing it tonight. Meanwhile, back on the Manor sun porch, cheery Phoebe cuddles an orally fixated Tiny Gay Chris in her lap while the dead-eyed and bemulleted Psycho viciously pounds on a toy piano, no doubt intending to do the same to his poor, neglected, and doomed younger brother's tender little head once their bony skank of an aunt leaves them alone for two minutes. And finally, out in that damned garage they never had before tonight and which I am quite sure we shall never see again, Piper stares at the ancient wreck of a truck she just blew $9500 on and dissolves into tears before carefully collecting her resolve and switching off the light, taking us at last to black.
week: Hiatus! Hooray! Happy holidays, everyone.