Copious thanks to the lovely and talented Keckler, who so graciously and gracefully stepped in to recap the last two episodes while I was enjoying a lovely midwinter vacation back east. I owe you big time.
And after that immense favor from Keckler, none other than Piper Halliwell does me another by skipping the dreadful previouslys this week, choosing instead to toss her glossy mane of hair around as she barrels through one of the main hallways at Not!warts towards the hateful school's library, a set expression of determination etched into her face. A dark demonic force of indeterminate motivation -- heh -- appears in the blurry background of the shot to chase after her while conjuring a Flaming Ball Of Death, which he eventually hurls at the back of her head with a howl as the grinding electric guitar on the soundtrack goes apeshit. Piper dodges the FBOD with a hoot and a slide to the fake marble, leaving the thing to plow harmlessly into an urn on one of the tables. The angry and strangely stumpy-legged demon quickly wings another FBOD in Piper's direction, but the just-appearing Raige redirects it with her orbing telekinesis, sending it back towards the demon himself, who spins around in a dodge of his own right into a faceful of Phoebe's boot. She pimpsmacks him around for a bit before force-feeding him a little more shoe leather with a kick whose force sends him flipping ass-over-end to into the floor below. The demon, stunned, wriggles around and blinks as Piper calmly rises to her feet to deploy her mighty Hands Of Discontent, and demon instantly go boom in a screen-filling explosion of flame and smoking black bits.
As the demon's screams echo away, Piper takes a few small steps towards the center of the room and sings, "Nice teamwork." Phoebe and Raige amble over to join her, with Phoebe smilingly correcting, "You mean 'nice sisterwork.'" "We are definitely getting better at this," Raige rather smugly agrees, and believe it or not, I had no idea where they were going with any of this, so that line did seem more than a little odd the first time I heard it -- you know, in that "You should be expert at this after five endless and godforsaken years of it, you dim, twitchy, loser" sort of way -- but I shrugged it off because, after all, it's coming from the same nitwit who couldn't remember just nine episodes ago that she had a hand in vanquishing The Source Of All Evil three times in one goddamned year, so I was all, "Whatever." In any event, while I've been blathering on, Piper's added something entirely unimportant to the conversation, leading Phoebe to reply, "I think we're ready." "So do I," Raige opines. "I don't," comes a male voice from elsewhere in the room, and the apparent Glamorous Ladies turn their heads in time to catch a bald-headed and leather-clad gent emerging from the shadows to add, "Something is still missing." Piper begins to dispute this claim, but the misdirection of the argument that follows, with the apparent Glamorous Ladies trading barbs with a demon they should be blowing up in Not!warts, wasn't terribly engaging the first time around and certainly doesn't hold up on multiple viewings, so let's cut to the chase, shall we? The apparent Glamorous Ladies are shape-shifting demons who have spent most of the last decade mastering the real Manor Morons' powers, and would now be ready to supplant the true Ps in the overworld were it not for the fact that they have yet to twin the Power of Three. Oh, and by the way, since only one of these trampy usurpers is ever addressed by her true character name during the course of the evening, I'm going to cheat and check out the Internet Movie Database entry for this episode, which is telling me we've got "Pilar" for Piper, "Phoenix" for the Feebs, and "Patra" for Raige. Their bald-headed buddy, incidentally, is "Savard." You got all that? Good. The apparent Glamorous Ladies, in one of the worst morphing effects I've ever seen on this show -- like, way to stop even trying only midway through the final season, you hacks -- pixellate through the miracle of Photoshop into their regular appearances to glare at Savard for a very long moment before vanishing into the opening credits.
Oh, wow. This is my first pass through the permanently Dolt-free opening credits, so I suppose I should let you all know that they've replaced him with a shot of Phoebe's Phrisky Cooter Tattoo reciting a spell at Not!warts (others might have been involved in that scene as well, and no, I'm not going to look up the episode because they've slung the COOTER TAT into the GODDAMNED OPENING CREDITS, and they therefore can suck my ass), Raige simultaneously dodging and deflecting one of Zankou's Deep-Fried Chicken Balls Of Death in last season's finale, the Retarded Bimbo going all Matrix-y in an alleyway, Raige and the Retard whipping up a potion in the nonexistent attic (which, pick an episode, any episode), the Retard battling the tiny flying monkeys, and what I believe is a new-to-the credits sequence of the Ps regaining control of the Book of Shadows at the end of last year. Just so you know.
The camera fades up on the Manor façade as shrill, stupid Phoebe shrieks out, "Anyone down here?" The shot cuts inside to the foyer to pan up Phoebe's denim-clad legs as she descends the final flight of stairs into the main hall clad in some sort of embroidered, pink-and-lamé jacket over a filmy, matching camisole top while toting an enormous cardboard box. "Big box in high heels!" she screams, and oh, my God, she's an asshole. Bad enough that she's moving out of the Manor again, some more, and we all know how well that turned out for everyone involved the last time her dumb hag-ass tried it four years ago, but give me a fucking break. Wearing heels to haul all of your shit to your new place? They're called "sneakers," you dim bitch. Look into them. Better yet, just get your spasmodic bastard of a half-sister to orb your fucking belongings to your new digs, IDIOT. Oh, whatever. We're not even two minutes into this damn thing yet, so let's just keep this moving. Piper, who'd been ignoring the caterwauling in favor of a little Book abuse at the dining room table, offers a distracted response before summoning Phoebe over for a bit of research assistance. Phoebe begs off, babbling something about signing the loan documents for her new condominium, which so surprises Piper that the latter rises to her feet to eyebrow, "I didn't realize this was all moving along so quickly." "But," she begins in a wasted attempt to guilt-trip the Feebs, "I've been so focused on getting [my enormous Doltsicle out of the deep freeze]." Selfish Phoebe barely rises to the bait, forcing Piper to reveal her Book abuse has identified a number of "seers and oracles and anyone that might be able to foresee who [the Glamorous Idiots] have to fight" in order to retrieve the Doltsicle from the Angel of Teasley's great big Sub-Zero walk-in in the sky. Good luck with that one, hon.
Phoebe nods her empty head around all, "SoundsgreatgottajetBYYYEEEEE!" and bolts for the front door. Piper skitters after her with a pathetic offer of the Grand Cherokee for moving purposes and whatnot, and something in the tone of Piper's voice finally gets Phoebe to wonder what gives. "Are you sure you're okay with me moving out?" Phoebe demands. "Yeah! Of course I am!" Piper lies. "I mean...we can't be roommates forever? That's just...weird." Phoebe chooses to ignore Piper's passive-aggressive subtext and scoops up her enormous cardboard box to leave when they're both interrupted by some grumblings from Raige, who just now appears from the kitchen to gripe about the delightful Ivan Sergei. Seems she intends to drop the bitchcraft bomb upon his unsuspecting head that evening during a dinner date, you see, but poor Ivan's been having the worst day possible: He's lost his car keys and his wallet, and he's locked himself out of his apartment. What's a twitchy witch to do? Well, she could start by lasering that dusky black moustache off her upper lip once and for all. Shit's making her look like John Waters in a black chiffon teddy tonight, for Christ's sake. Unfortunately, Raige chooses to ask the Feebs for advice instead, and the advice she receives? "Maybe call in some reinforcements? Maybe ask some of your magical friends to help him have a better day so you can have a better night?" And if you were expecting anything less from The Queen Of Personal Gain here, I have no idea what show you've been watching for the last seven and a half years. Raige quickly cottons to the fact that Phoebe's referring to the Stoopid Magikal Kreatures, and vanishes to enlist their aid. Joy. Once she's gone, poor Piper's forced to beg Phoebe for "one little premonition" to help her with her Doltsicle search. Phoebe reluctantly agrees, slamming her box to the foyer's floor just as...
...Savard slams a book down on a table over at Not!warts, and the expository bickering that follows is neither interesting, entertaining, nor particularly well-written, so I'll pull out the relevant bits: Seems Savard and The Dark Demonic Ps escaped from an entity known as "The Slave King" several years ago, and are now hell-bent on vanquishing their former master. For some reason, this vanquish requires the Power of Three, despite the fact that all upper-level demons were destroyed in advance of the Avatars' Change last season, so shut up, show. The Dark Demonic Ps have not only managed to duplicate the true Glamorous Ladies' base powers, they've also somehow conspired to infuse their own blood with that of the Manor Morons so that those base powers now actually reside in their bodies, or something like that. I so don't care anymore. Especially now that this ass show is roadkill in the wake of the WB's merger with UPN. (Or should that be "this ass show is the fatally mangled dugong in the wake of the WB's merger with UPN"? Maybe I should save that one for Aquaman.) In any event, Savard remains convinced his protégés have yet to twin the Power of Three, and exhorts them to figure out a way to do so, pronto. The Dark Demonic Ps needlessly reminisce about Phoebe's hours in the genie's bottle and the dead-eyed Psycho's terrifying way with a sword for a bit before Phoenix stumbles across a cunning plan: Since the Dolthouse is a magical replica of the actual Manor, and since the Manor "is the witches' power base," if they trap the true Ps in the Dolthouse and occupy the actual Manor themselves, The Dark Demonic Ps "might be able to channel the Power of Three." Um. Yeah. About that whole "power base" thing. Did you assholes not see last season's finale? You know, the bit where they DESTROYED THE NEXUS? What. The Fuck. EVER! I do not care! I do not care at all! La-la-la, I do not care, because this show is so CANCELLED! I love you, Les Moonves! It's true! I do! You can't spell L-O-V-E without la-la-la-la-la-LES MOONVES! La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!
Now, where the fuck was I? Oh, yeah. In any event, Savard's sold on the plan, and the shot quickly cuts from Not!warts over to...
...the nonexistent attic, where Savard squiggles in, latches onto the Manor Dolthouse, and squiggles out with the thing just before Piper appears in the upper stairwell. She glances suspiciously around the room for a moment before noticing the Book missing from its stand. DUN! NOT! Because it's down on the dining room table where she left it! And this show sucks ass!
Whoops. I guess time moves differently at Not!warts, because even though that scene between The Dark Demonic Ps and Savard took no more than three minutes, after which he supposedly squiggled immediately to the Manor, it's now evidently an hour later in the real world, for Piper's had enough time to finish her round of Book abuse with the Feebs in the dining room and return the Book to the nonexistent attic, after which the Retarded Bimbo and her maggoty neck arrived at the Manor to swipe the Book from its stand without telling anyone to indulge in a little abuse of her own down in the Prue Halliwell Memorial Bimbo Boudoir Of Paisley Tit Slings And Other Fashion Atrocities, formerly occupied by Phoebe and currently occupied by the Retard. But I'm getting a little bit ahead of myself, here. So, the Retard's flipping through the Book searching for that symbol her milk carton of a ssssisssster drew oh, so many years ago when Piper hesitantly wanders in from the hallway to wonder what the hell Maggot Neck is doing in Phoebe's room. The lispy Retard hisses her way through an explanation I simply cannot bear to listen to one more time, so I'll be skipping ahead to where Piper far too politely inquires if she might borrow the Book of Shadows for a moment, at which point the Book dematerializes in a shrieking cloud of orbs, only to reappear...
...down on the sun porch, where Raige uses it to summon that stupid fucking Zombie Fairy Princess for the first phase of her relaxing day of personal gain. By the way, they're apparently recycling footage of notorious teenaged runaway Scout Taylor-Compton's appearances on this show, because she looks exactly as she did way back on October 19, 2000. Not that anyone really cares at this point, but I thought you should know. Anyway, long story short, Raige enlists the stupid fucking Zombie Fairy Princess's aid in returning to Henry everything he'd lost that day so he'll be in the best of all possible moods when she finally drops the bitchcraft bomb on his unsuspecting head that evening. The stupid fucking Zombie Fairy Princess gamely and wordlessly agrees before zipping on out of there, just as Piper descends the main staircase from the second floor. "[Raige]!" Piper chides, flailing her hands around in the air. "What are you doing?" "Just taking Phoebe's advice," Raige grins before scooting out of the frame in the direction of the kitchen. Piper huffs and puffs and slams the Book shut as the shot cuts to a...
...swooping aerial of the city that settles into a quick time-lapse of the clock on the Ferry Building shooting forward to four o'clock in the afternoon before whisking us over to Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World, where a delighted Hank is enumerating for Raige's benefit all of the many missing possessions he's suddenly found that day, including his keys, his wallet, the 49ers cap he lost in high school, and an old letterman's jacket. "Very subtle," Raige snarks at the unseen-but-presumed-to-be-present stupid fucking Zombie Fairy Princess. She then wonders if they're still on for dinner, leading darling Hank to tease with a twinkle in his eye, "What's so important that you can't tell me right now?" Raige flirtatiously insists he'll have to wait. Darling Hank, alas, has a stack of recommendation letters to write for a slew of parolees that afternoon, so he might still have to cancel on her. Writing doesn't come easily to him, you see, so he'll likely be tied up all evening. There's a joke about recapping Charmed in there somewhere, but I'm too fucking tired of this bullshit show to find it. "Though who knows?" Darling Henry mumbles. "Maybe I'll get inspired." Raige, snagging yet another crafty personal-gain-related idea from his final word, arches both one brow and one half of her moustache as she rises to her feet and smiles, "I think you should count on that!" Darling Hank allows a bit of a grin to tug at the right side of his mouth as Raige continues, "I'll see you at seven, Henry." His eyes follow her as she steps out into the hallway.
Once there, Raige carefully shuts his office's door behind her and, after checking to make sure no one else is around, whispers the following familiar spell incorrectly from memory:
Being of creativity
Show yourself to me.
A rather pretty, rather transparent, and rather silent muse rays into the hallway in front of Raige and happily agrees to work her muse mojo on Darling Henry so he'll finish his recommendations in time. Raige clatters off down the hallway as the muse turns and disappears through Darling Hank's wall.
Meanwhile, over at All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me, Phoebe answers her phone to find Piper on the other end, asking, "Have you ever heard of a wizard named Zakal?" No, Piper, she hasn't ever heard of a wizard named Zakal, because The Source slaughtered all wizards save one more than two hundred years ago, and you idiots managed to get rid of that last one yourselves, so why are you even asking that stupid question? Oh, that's right: Because this show blows, and I want to die. Phoebe taps away at her keyboard as Piper explains that Zakal has "been around for ages and supposedly is very well connected."
When Piper shuts up long enough to hear the typing through the phone line, she snippily calls Phoebe on it, leading Phoebe to lie and lie and lie some more about how "bringing [the Doltsicle] home is the most important thing in the world" to her. "But," she adds, "it's not going to happen overnight." "It's also not going to happen if we don't try," Piper frosts, scoring an easy one off her self-centered and lazy hag of a sister. "But we have been trying," Phoebe protests, and no. No, you haven't, unless you consider whatever the fuck you did for La Famille Retard a couple of episodes ago or your attempt to bone the dead-eyed Psycho's G.I. Joke Live Doll last week or your foolish and ill-considered move out of the Manor "trying," which, you know, if you are, you should drop fucking dead right now, and I don't even know why I bother anymore. Anyway, the upshot of all this is that Piper finally gets Phoebe to agree to return to the Manor so they can follow up on this Zakal lead. Phoebe's also to pick up some mandrake root on her way home, which will become important later, and Phoebe also accuses Piper of "sabotaging" Phoebe's move from the Manor, which will never become important, ever, but I just thought I'd mention it because, you know, what with all the free-floating Retard hate around here lately, I thought it was important to remind everyone just how awful Phoebe truly is.
The gals eventually hang up on each other, and Phoebe hits the elevator bank to head down to the Grand Cherokee. She cheerily greets the gentleman occupying the just-arrived elevator car as she boards it, and it's Savard, and as soon as the doors close, he sweeps a hand behind her coif, sending Phoebe collapsing into an instant stupor upon the floor. At the last instant, though, he snatches at the collar of her jacket, in the process stripping it off her dropping body so he might pass it along to Phoenix, who squiggles into the car from points Not!warts to sneer, "I've always admired her sense of fashion," and I don't know if she's kidding with that or not, and I'm not entirely certain I care. Phoenix morphs into Phoebe form and dons Phoebe's jacket as Savard tells her, "The keys are in the pocket, and remember: Get the sisters to use the Power of Three as soon as possible, so we can see if this will work or not." "We have no idea what's going on in their lives right now," she reminds him. "Just wing it," he orders, "but don't get too eager, or you'll tip the sisters off." And with that, he kneels to wrap a paw around the real Phoebe's shoulder before squiggling away with her. And I guess I'll be referring to this other Feebs as Fauxbe for what has got to be the twenty-seventh time in the last six years, because "Phoenix" already contains the relevant elements of the two names that I'd...you know what? Fuck it. No one cares anymore, am I right? Fauxbe strides out of the elevator car and into the first commercial break.
Phoebe rises into the gloom of what she believes is the actual Manor and warily calls out for her sisters. She picks her way into the parlor and bats at the light switch, to no effect. Finally noticing the flickering, blood-red light coming from outside, she crosses to the window and peers through the gauzy white curtains. Horrified by what she sees, she races to fling open the front door and scurry onto the porch. The shot cuts to reveal the miniaturized Feebs gawping at the dank, dimly lit underground chamber into which Savard had previously transported the Dolthouse. She seems ready to step onto the chamber's dirt floor when Savard suddenly squiggles in above her, lowering his foot as if to squish her like a garishly dressed stick insect beneath his boot. Phoebe scuttles back into the Dolthouse foyer and rocks around unsteadily as Savard hoists the toy house onto...a tree stump? In an Underworld cavern? Sure. We'll go with that. Stupid show. Savard pokes his ginormous face into the Dolthouse doorway and threatens, "First time's a foot. time? A [Flaming Ball Of Death]!" Phoebe gulps.
Meanwhile, Piper lights the gas on the center island's range to brew up a vanquish as Raige dejectedly lopes into the kitchen from the dining room. The two chat about Raige's impending date with Darling Henry, and then the two chat about Phoebe's move from the Manor and Piper's capital-I Issues with the entire situation before Fauxbe enters to blunder her way through the scene that follows, not knowing, of course, about Piper's request for the mandrake root and the wizard they're about to target and whatnot. She wades through a depressingly obvious bluff that both Piper and Raige should call her on but don't, because they're idiots, before surreptitiously conjuring a bit of mandrake root in her jacket. Rather triumphantly drawing the thing from her pocket, she smiles, "Let's go get those demons, shall we?" She then tosses it into the wizard vanquish now bubbling on the stove. The mix erupts, instantly cross-cutting to...
...a blast of explosive mojo from Piper's Mighty Hands Of Discontent up in the nonexistent attic, which flips this Zakal person up towards the ceiling before dumping him back onto the carpeting. "How'd that feel?" Piper breezes from the far side of the room, where she stands with Fauxbe and Raige. "Now for the last time," she continues, advancing upon the wizard who should have been slaughtered in The Great Wizard Immolation Of 1746 but wasn't, because this show is ass, and I want to die, "have you or have you not foreseen any threats against us?" Zakal snots back something dismissive, so Fauxbe hurls one of the vanquishing vials into his chest, sending him towards The Waste Land on a billowing cloud of flame and wizard guts. "I did it!" Fauxbe enthuses. "Yeah, you did it," Piper snaps, outraged. "Why?" "We could have made him talk first!" Raige spazzes in agreement. "Not Zakal," Fauxbe sniffs all too knowingly. Piper and Raige eye her suspiciously, so Fauxbe shrugs, "I mean, it's not like he was gonna say anything." "What the hell were you thinking?" Piper growls in irritation. Fauxbe just shrugs and pouts and shrugs some more.
Down in Hell, Phoebe scans Savard's chamber as Patra and Pippi, or whatever the fuck her name is, squiggle in from points unknown to let their mentor know of Fauxbe's stunning success with a Power of Three vanquish. "It's time to switch one more sister," Savard grins. Packrat or Pippi or whoever the hell she is takes umbrage at this, demanding to know why they wouldn't swap out both of the remaining Manor Morons and go after The Slave King now. The Book of Shadows, dipshit. You need a good witch to abuse it for The Slave King's vanquish, because the Book can sense evil. Jesus Christ, but the demons are dumb on this show. You just know that Reaper guy's got chunks of bints like her in his stool. In any event, whichever one of these trampy demonettes is supposed to be Raige will head topside to play upon Piper's desire for her big, hard, icy Doltsicle, the plan being that Packrat or Pippi will convince Piper that The Slave King's responsible for it all. Pippi or Packrat -- or maybe it's both of them, actually -- is way stoked.
Back at the Manor, the gals descend the upper stairs to the second floor in full howl, with Piper still screeching about Zakal's premature vanquish, Fauxbe still badly bluffing her way through her interactions with the real Charmed Ones, and Raige hitching and jerking and mugging her way through the argument that follows. About the only amusing thing during all of it is the fact that Fauxbe, increasingly flustered, simply plays up her twin's innate selfishness and irresponsibility and so manages to maintain her ruse. Or maybe I'm giving her too much credit, and it's simply a happy accident that her own demonic selfishness and irresponsibility so closely align with Phoebe's. Your choice. In any event, Fauxbe grandly vanishes into the Prue Halliwell Memorial Bimbo Boudoir Of Paisley Tit Slings And Other Fashion Atrocities, formerly occupied by Phoebe and currently considering suicide now that the Retard's taken up residence. Once inside, she presses her ear against the door to hear what Piper and Raige are saying about her but unfortunately is interrupted by Maggot Neck herself, and Fauxbe instantly becomes my new best friend with the hilarious way she dismissively and condescendingly treats the Retarded Bimbo. "So," Fauxbe boredly sighs with much waving of hands once she realizes there's no easy way to rid herself of the Retard, "why don't you tell me about how your search for Chrissy is going?" "You mean Chrisssssssty?" the Retard lisps. "Whatever," Fauxbe eye-rolls. Heh. The Retard looks wounded. Shut up, Bimbo.
Down in the main hall, Piper pedebitches down the stairs into the dining room about Phoebe's erratic behavior as of late, with Raige trailing meekly behind her. "First all she cares about is her stupid condo," Piper rages, "then she comes back here to help, and now she's suddenly trigger-happy? She's all over the map!" Or, you know, demonically possessed. Just maybe. I realize you're rather addled-brained over the fate of that gigantic ice pop of a husband of yours, honey, but how many more times are you going to ignore all of these and similar warning signs? Oh, that's right: Not too many, because this shit is SO CANCELLED, and how often can the typewriting crackmonkeys recycle this plotline in the nine episodes? Don't answer that. I really don't need to know that Phoebe's going to be demonically possessed another nine times this season. Anyway, Piper blusters and flusters and screams for the Book of Shadows, which is still up in the attic, so she clomps up the stairs just as Raige's cell rings. It's Darling Henry, who, with the help of that muse, not only finished all of his recommendations, but also had time to pen a "love letter" to Raige. Awwww. No, really. I mean it. Sort of. Just when it seems everything's set for their date that evening, however, one of Darling Hank's fellow parole officers buzzes him on the intercom to let him know that "the GPS" just went down on all of his parolees' ankle bracelets, so Darling Hank might have to cancel on her after all. "Bad luck," he offers by way of apology. As the twee tootling of The Mischievous Pan-Pipe Of Annoying Irish Stereotypes kicks in on the soundtrack, Raige stumbles across another cunning plan.
Yeah, it involves another fucking leprechaun. However, as they hired Michael J. Anderson of Twin Peaks and Carnivàle fame for this evening's presentation, it's not nearly as bad as one would expect it to be. Though I have to admit it would have been much, much better if he'd recorded all of his dialogue backwards and then lip-synched to the reverse playback. That, in fact, would have rocked. Anyway, long story short, Raige wants The Man From Another Place to blow one of his magical trouser nuggets all over Darling Henry's fuzzy head so, I don't know, the global positioning satellite will reboot? I don't care. The important thing is, she's supposed to meet him at Trudeau Memorial in an hour. The Man From Another Place dutifully recites the Gaelic required to activate his stupid rainbow and exits just as Savard sneaks up behind Raige to smarm, "Don't you just hate leprechauns?" Why, yes! Yes, I do, but you weren't talking to me, unfortunately, and you're really only here to sweep your hand in front of her face, in the process sending Raige into an instant stupor on the floor, right? Right. Packrat materializes in the parlor and morphs into Raige form as Savard kneels to squiggle the real Raige down to Hell. Once alone, Rattrap murmurs something vaguely threatening until she's swallowed up by the commercial break.
Hell. Phoebe welcomes Raige to the Dolthouse, reminds her that their powers are diminished along with their stature, and supposes that tonight's nefarious demonic plan involves harnessing the Power of Three. And...scene.
Up in Suicide Boudoir, the lispy Retard's obliviously blathering on and on and on about Chrissssssty as the wallpaper shrivels to the floor and dies while several decorative throw pillows spontaneously combust just to get the fuck away from her until Fauxbe, examining her nails, snarls, "Yeah, you know what? That's just a really boring story." Hee. "Boring?" pouts the Retard. "Yeah," Fauxbe sighs. "I think you should just give up. I mean, it's not like you're really going to find her anyway." The Retard is outraged and mopey. The mirror-topped dressing table moans, "Shut it, you maggoty-necked git," before collapsing into a defeated pile of glass shards and splinters. Fauxbe blows on out of there and hooks up with Rattrap, who quickly reveals her true identity. The two muah-ha-ha for a bit before heading up to the nonexistent attic, where they find Piper once more abusing the Book of Shadows. After some hasty and hardly sincere apologies from Fauxbe regarding her behavior as of late -- and God knows Piper should be used to hasty and hardly sincere apologies from her true hag of a sister by now, so I'm giving her a pass on not seeing through the impostor's gambit at this particular point in time -- Fauxbe and Rattrap pitch their whole "The Slave King turned the Dolt into an ice pop!" idea, which, after a bit of flapjawing, Piper buys. At Rattrap's prompting, Piper wearily returns the Book to its stand for yet another round of abuse while Rattrap and Fauxbe practically whiz themselves with excitement.
Trudeau Memorial. It's now 5:30, and The Man From Another Place impatiently waits for Raige while Darling Henry indulges in a silent bit of business with a red folder he seems surprised to see, and I'm guessing it's part of that stupid fucking Zombie Fairy Princess-related Lost And Found subplot, but that's not important, mainly because all of the necessary expository information evidently ended up on the cutting-room floor before the episode aired. This goddamned show. What is important is that The Man From Another Place huffs -- loudly -- "I can't believe I'm being stood up by a witch," and toddles on out of there to...
...rainbow, or whatever, into the nonexistent attic, where he berates Rattrap for failing to meet him as promised. Rattrap deals quickly with the entire annoying and pointless situation by sending The Man From Another Place back to Trudeau Memorial to play with his magical trouser nuggets. The midget rainbows out of there...
...back to the precinct, where he discreetly rainbows into a closed office before emerging to smack Darling Henry up with some of his sparkly trouser mojo. Almost instantly, all of Darling Hank's missing parolees enter the room, seemingly of their own accord, just as Henry learns via his cell that he won ten thousand dollars. And that's about a half an hour of my life that I'll never get back. God, I hate this show. Gotta admit, however, that Ivan Sergei was adorable throughout, especially with his reaction to winning the lottery, or whatever the hell it was.
Nonexistent Attic. Piper's finally stumbled across The Slave King's entry in the Book, and Fauxbe and Rattrap very nearly blow their cover with their enthusiasm to procure an appropriate vanquish. Just then, though, Piper's suddenly and inexplicably assaulted by a swirling cloud of glowing golf balls that vanishes as quickly and mysteriously as it arrived. "Did you see that?" she wonders. Fauxbe and Rattrap play dumb. Natch. "It felt like someone was calling me," Piper explains. Fauxbe and Rattrap agree that such a thing is odd indeed before Fauxbe too eagerly asks if Piper's found the recipe they need. "What is the matter with you two?" Piper peeves, finally having had enough of this crap. Fauxbe rolls her eyes and replies, "This." And with that, she decks Piper in the face. Heh. Piper goes down like a French prize fighter while Rattrap waves bye-bye with her orbing telekinesis, sending the now-unconscious Piper down into Hell. The remaining trampy demonette materializes in the nonexistent room, morphs into Piper form, and, carefully keeping her distance from the Book's open pages, reads, "We're gonna need some henbane, gypsy's blood, and hemlock root." Um. DUN? Sorry, but when it comes to this sort of demon-on-demon crime, I just can't get that excited.
Hell. Savard flings a miniaturized Piper into the Dolthouse foyer and sneers something predictable before telekinetically shutting the wee Manor's front doors. The reassembled Glamorous Idiots gape their collective way into the commercial break.
And we're back. Phoebe and Raige quickly bring Piper up to speed on recent events. Piper, naturally, is dismayed, not only because she was duped by a couple of trampy demonic doppelgangers, but also because she once again finds herself in the stupid Dolthouse she never would have known about in the first place if her damn Dolt of a husband hadn't resurrected the thing during his asinine midlife crisis last year. By the way, that unexpected swirling cloud of glowing golf balls was actually Phoebe and Raige's attempt to deploy the "To Call A Lost Witch" spell, which didn't quite work because of their diminished size. The fact that it half-worked, however, is enough for Piper to realize that they can use the Dolthouse's Ouija board to contact the Retarded Bimbo through the actual Manor's larger version. Just go with it. Despite the fact that the success of contacting the Retard through a Ouija board is of course dependent upon the Retard's ability to spell. And if Phoebe can't even spell her owngoddamned namecorrectly, well. You can see where I'm going with that. This show. I swear to God.
Suicide Boudoir, where the windows have popped their frames to splatter themselves on the pavement far below. The planchette on the Ouija board skitters a bit, and the Retard looks up in time to follow along out loud as the thing points out "D-O-L-[T]-H-O-U-S-E." "Chrissssssty?" hisses the Retard. I told you the stupid bitch wouldn't know how to spell.
Nonexistent Attic. The lispy Retard waddles her maggot neck into the nonexistent room to spit out excited noises regarding what the Ouija board just did. The Fake Ps, initially, are politely dismissive, but when the Bimbo persists, what follows is awesome. Fauxbe slams a wooden spoon down and slowly approaches the Retard to condescend, "I do believe my sister just asked you to leave." "Are you dense?" Rattrap adds. "We really don't have time for your crap right now." "Thissss issss a joke, right?" the Retard splutters. "Do we look like we're joking?" Piplar ices. "Did anyone [aside from Demian, Keckler, Sars, and everyone on the boards] ever tell you what a giant pain in the ass you are?" Raige sneers. Fauxbe roughly shoves the Retard to the floor as Piplar shakes her head, all, "I don't know why we keep you around." Hooray! "Get rid of her," Fauxbe snaps, turning her back on the maggoty mess on the floor. "Gladly," purrs Rattrap, who employs her orbing telekinesis with a casual flick of her wrist to send the Retard's oddly proportioned ass onto the front porch. "That was fun!" Rattrap breezes. Oh, my. You have no idea. That was the best fucking minute and a half of the entire goddamned season, ladies. Brava. Bravissima. Fauxbe, Piplar, and Rattrap morph back into their demonic forms, gather up the vanquishing vials, and dematerialize from the nonexistent room.
Down in Hell, a pig roasts on a spit (what?) as the camera pans past it to trail The Dark Demonic Ps as they insouciantly amble into The Slave King's headquarters. Since I refuse to care about characters they don't even bother to introduce until the forty-five-minute mark, long story short: Potions? Meet demon. Demon? Go boom. Scene.
Back at the Dolthouse, Piper's emerged onto the little balcony above the front porch, while Phoebe and Raige peer up at her from the parlor's bay window below. "Just out of curiosity," Piper calls down, "if this doesn't work, what's Plan B?" "This is Plan B," Phoebe shouts back. "[Retard] was Plan A." "Remind me to evict her if we get out of this," Piper snarks. I shall endeavor to write that upon my pad, Piper. What follows is a vanquishing sequence that's far too complicated, but still sort of fun to watch. Basically, Raige telekinetically orbs a tiny shard of rock incrementally along the cavern's dirt floor until it's more or less in the position they want. Piper then gets Savard's attention and draws him over to the Dolthouse, where he bends down to push his massive gob into her tiny grille with, "What do you want?" "You!" Piper perks, deploying her miniaturized Hands Of Discontent. The resulting explosion, though small, is enough to knock Savard backwards onto the floor, where -- get this -- he inadvertently impales his skull on the tiny shard of rock. That's got to be one of the most grotesque and graphic vanquishes they've had in a very long time. There was even a little slurpy sound when the rock dug into his brain. Hee! Piper races downstairs to rejoin her sisters in the parlor, but whatever celebration she was about to launch into is cut short by the arrival of The Dark Demonic Ps, who loudly wonder what happened to Savard before turning to glare at the wee Ps in the Dolthouse window. The camera, which had been giving us The Dark Demonic Ps' point of view of the Dolthouse façade, suddenly races towards the tiny parlor window and into the final commercial break.
What happens is so ridiculous, I'm not even going to bother to try. Basically, during a hasty processing summit in the mini parlor, Piper theorizes that should they taunt The Dark Demonic Ps into using their demonic powers, The Dark Demonic Ps will stop channeling the Power of Three, which will allow the miniaturized Ps, despite their diminished powers, to escape. And it works. WHATEVER. Just as The Dark Demonic Ps prepare to launch a trio of Flaming Balls Of Death at the Dolthouse, the sisters grasp onto each other with Raige pressing her right hand against the Dolthouse wall to orb both Glamorous Ladies and Dolthouse back up to the nonexistent attic. WHAT. THE FUCK. EVER! Once there, the three babble at the stupid Retard to fetch the Book of Shadows and find the power-switching spell, which she is to alter by changing "powers" to "bodies" as she does below, after The Dark Demonic Ps have materialized:
What's theirs is yours,
What's yours is theirs.
I offer up this gift to share:
Switch the bodies through the air.
Bizarre, sparking fingers of lightning erupt from the Dolthouse to entangle The Dark Demonic Ps, who are sucked into the toy just as the Manor Ps are ejected from it. After a few quippy remarks are exchanged, Piper unleashes a single Hand that destroys both the demonettes and the Dolthouse itself in a fairly impressive fireball. "Well," the Retard assures them after the smoke has cleared, "they say imitation is the greatest form of flattery!" NO NO NO NO NO THEY DO NOT DO NOT DO NOT SAY THAT YOU STUPID STUPID FUCKING EVIL AWFUL EVIL BITCH THEY DO NOT AND HAVE NEVER HAVE NEVER SAID THAT BECAUSE WHAT THEY SAY WHAT THEY DO SAY IS that IMITATION IS THE SINCEREST FORM OF FLATTERY AND YOU ARE A WICKED A SATANIC A WICKED A MAGGOTY-NECKED A BAD ACTRESS SENT FROM THE DEEPEST THE DARKEST THE COLDEST PIT OF HELL TO KILL US ALL WITH YOUR STUPID FUCKING AWFUL EVIL STUPID BAD WICKED STUPID STUPIDITY YOU STUPID STUPID BITCH.
And look at that. Even Piper agrees with me, because she's shaking her head all, "Dumbass."
After the camera pans up the nighttime Manor façade, we cross-fade over to the same rooftop where Raige and Secretly INSANE Brody had a romantic candlelit dinner of their own, and wait for Raige to drop the bitchcraft bomb. It takes her forever and a day and two minutes and forty-three seconds, of course, but Darling Ivan Sergei gets in a good line when Hank tries to guess Raige's big secret: "You used to be a man before, right?" Get it, Gomez Addams? HE THINKS YOU'RE A MAN BECAUSE YOU HAVE A MOUSTACHE. Well, not so much in this scene, in which she actually looks quite lovely, but still. WAX. So, where was I? Oh, yeah. Ivan Sergei and Rose McGowan act the hell out of the little scene that follows, and Raige takes a page from the Dolt's book when she demonstrates her powers by tossing a spray of sparkly golden lights into the air above their heads, but the bottom line of it all is, Darling Henry loves her just the way she is. Awwwwwww. They kiss -- which has got to taste a little funny after all that Chinese take-out -- as the camera cross-fades into tonight's closing travelogue.
And so we reach the denouement about which I could not care less, despite the fact that Holly Marie Combs gets all misty-eyed and verklempt over Piper's loneliness and all of the heart-rending changes in her life as of late as Piper sends Phoebe on her selfish, hag-ass way to her new condominium with a care package of potion ingredients and "Book of Shadows Cliffs Notes" in anticipation of likely demon attacks, and the reason I could not care less is because Alyssa Milano is so goddamned affectless and unemotional that Phoebe comes across as an cold-hearted bitch about the whole thing. Stupid Phoebe ruins everything. Everything that the damn dirty Retard hasn't ruined first, of course. Phoebe at long last takes her leave, and the camera pulls slowly away from Piper's quiet weeping before finally fading to black.
week: Nothing! No new episodes until after the Super Bowl, in fact, but if you're a glutton for punishment, TNT is airing a Charmed marathon on the day of the game, starting with juicy Julie Cooper, continuing through four whole hours of Big Gay Chris, and ending it all with a slew of seventh-season episodes that nobody cares about. Have fun!