No previouslys this week, as we fade up on Piper toting a precariously balanced stack of boxes into the kitchen from the dining room while cradling the cordless in her neck. For some spectacularly contrived reason, the "cocktail napkins" meant for P3 were delivered instead to the Manor, and she tells the nightclub underling on the other end of the line to "be outside in twenty minutes" as she's "gonna do a drive-by." She slams the cordless onto the table while wretching, "Please let me have my keys!" "They're on the counter," blares the off-screen Retarded Bimbo, startling the woman who actually owns the Manor and therefore has every right to be there twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, Retard, into dropping the precariously balanced boxes to the floor. "Ssssorry," lisps the Retard while ssssetting a breakfasssst tray onto the sssssenter island. "I didn't mean to sssscare you." Piper waves it off, insisting she's just frazzled, as she has to check in on Tiny Gay Chris at Daddy Dearest's before stopping by P3 with the napkins, hitting the supermarket, and picking up The Dead-Eyed Psycho from The Preschool Of The Damned a little early so she can "make cookies for his Valentine's Day party," and they've been rearranging the calendar more often than they've been rearranging the various boudoirs on the second floor of the house this season, because The Dead-Eyed Psycho's birthday episode aired four weeks ago, last week's episode supposedly took place on January 29th, and this week we're up to Valentine's Day? Whatever, show. None of that matters, because what happens makes me want to unplug the television set and haul it out to the Dumpster rather than watch the remainder of this episode or, indeed, anything else on TV ever again. Piper, noticing Maggot Neck's snottily and self-pityingly snarled upper lip, apologizes to the uninvited house guest for Piper's own supposed self-centeredness by allowing that her hectic schedule "pales in comparison to what [her UNINVITED HOUSEGUEST is] going through." "Yeah, well," the Bimbo flippantly breezes, shrugging her shoulders around and all too exaggeratedly sighing, "life goes on," and Piper should blow her the fuck up right now and be done with it. Sure, I'd be pretty damn happy if Piper just punched her in the neck a couple of times, but the Mighty Hands Of Discontent are really the way to go, here, if you ask me. GOD. HATE! HAAAAAAATE. ACK!
ANY-way, the Retard hisses, "I'm jusssst glad to have Chrissssty back," thereby managing to befuddle about seven-eighths of this awful show's rapidly dwindling audience, who were all, "She's got her sister back? When the hell did that happen? Did I miss an episode somewhere?" before we all heaved a collective, "Oh, fuck it," and popped open another beer. We then delve into the Retard's Issues Of The Week, which all revolve around the recovered Milk Carton, who hasn't spoken to anyone since her rescue "a couple of days" ago, and who "closed up even more" when the Bimbo suggested they contact their parents, and if Chrissssty's really in such bad shape, I have no idea why the Retard's loitering around the Manor in the middle of the day when she should be at her sister's side back in her enormous dorm room at Berkeley or, more likely given Chrissssty's lengthy captivity, at the hospital in which I'm certain Master's-Degree-in-Psychology Phoebe insisted they place her for evaluation and recuperation after her decade-and-a-half-long ordeal. Unless, of course, Chrissssty's bunking with the Retard in Suicide Boudoir, which she would never be doing, because even Piper's impressive martyrdom complex has its limits, and allowing a mentally damaged kidnap victim with as-yet-unknown magical powers to occupy the bedroom to her children's nursery? Well, that's never going to happen. In any event, Piper blathers something about the Manor Morons being there for the Retard anytime the latter needs a shoulder to cry on, or whatever, before scooping up her boxes and exiting towards the front door. The Retard taps her nails on the center island for a moment before the camera cuts...
...upstairs, where the lispy Bimbo eases open the door to Suicide Boudoir and, carrying the tray from earlier, hisses, "I brought you ssssome breakfasssst!" and AUAUAUAUUAUUUUUGH how much do I hate this show right now? "Chrissssty?" whispers the Retard, for yes, gentle reader, the Glamorous Idiots are that stupid. They have allowed Maggot Neck to move her traumatized, unstable, and quite possibly dangerous older sister into the Manor. HAAAAAAATE. The Retard scans the room for her dearly beloved recovered Milk Carton and edges forward, eventually finding Chrissssty curled in a ball in the corner behind the bed, weeping quietly to herself with her face buried in her knees. Maggot Neck kneels at her sister's side, assuring her that everything will be all right. Chrissssty lifts her head to stare the Bimbo down, and despite having spent the last fifteen years locked in a dungeon in Hell, Chrissssty has lovely highlights in her hair, perfectly manicured eyebrows, absolutely flawless skin, dazzlingly white teeth, and a manicure to die for, because this show sucks, and they should have cancelled this shit last May, why didn't they cancel this shit last May, and I want to die. In any event, as a couple of tense strings thrum on the soundtrack, Chrissssty shakily murmurs a darkly foreboding, "They're coming!" before vanishing into the opening credits.
Raige and Phoebe enter the Manor foyer from the front porch when we return, already discussing Chrissssty's warning, pedebabbling about Them and who They could possibly be and why They might want Chrissssty back before the Retard arrives in the main hall from above toting Chrissssty's untouched breakfasssst to interrupt the two with, "It doesn't matter, because They won't be getting her back." The three proceed into the kitchen, where Raige suggests they formulate some sort of game plan. "We don't know anything!" the Retard protests. "We don't know where They've been keeping her this whole time!" and yes you DO know where They've been keeping her this whole time because YOU WERE JUST THERE AT THE END OF THE LAST EPISODE, YOU STUPID STUPID AWFUL EVIL INSIPID WRETCHED INEPT INCOMPETENT EXUSE FOR A WOMAN. GOD! DAMMIT! I HATE THIS SHOW! Much annoying babbling follows, during which we return to the main hall with the assembled nitwits as Phoebe and Raige try and fail to convince the Retard to pump her sister for more information. The Bimbo resists, mainly because she believes Chrissssty's under too much pressure as it is, or something, but Phoebe prevails upon her to, at the very least, give it a shot. The Retard rolls her eyes heavenward and concedes, vanishing upstairs. Phoebe pauses for a moment before following her, announcing her intention to "whip up a quick potion" while Raige abuses the Book of Shadows for any and all "telepathic demons," which, you know, are all of them, ever, but whatever, because this evening's contrived bit of complete and utter stupidity has just announced his arrival in the Manor via his shrieking cloud of orbs. Phoebe and Raige dart their eyes over to the foyer, where they spy a buzzily swirling orb cloud materializing above the carpet. Raige, thinking fast, deploys her orbing telekinesis to send a nearby lamp hurtling at the shape's head, but the gentleman's rapidly solidifying hand manages to snatch the thing out of the air as the camera pans to take in his face, and I swear to God, the first time I saw this, I thought that Slampiece Buttfuck had returned to San Francisco from the Apple Store to annoy us all over again. The actor, it turns out, is not Balthazar Getty, but rather a Balthazar Getty look-alike named Warren Derosa known mainly for co-starring in a straight-to-video Steven Seagal vehicle, and your life has got to suck if you're the poor man's Balthazar Getty known mainly for co-starring in a straight-to-video Steven Seagal vehicle. Oy. In any event, the Getty-alike is a prim, officious pantywaist of a British stereotype who even goes so far as to air-quote the "entrance" part of "Excuse me, ladies, but I don't think you recognized my entrance," and so I hate him already. Imagine a horrid amalgamation of Balthazar Getty's Buttfuck and Gildart Jackson's Snidely, shove that atrocity into a navy blue suit, and you have this "Simon Thaddeus Reginald Maaaaahks" person who is here to take Raige Matthews as his wife. As Raige gapes and goggles at this news, the agonizing howls of the damned hit the soundtrack, and that's far more amusing than it has any right to be, before we cut down to...
...Hell, where tonight's primary dark demonic forces are torturing one of their own, for he was supposed to be guarding Chrissssty at the time she was rescued by The Lispy Bimbo. The guard claims he was called away, but the demon who'd been digging his Chris Of The Spider Woman claw into the guard's chest isn't buying that. Insisting that They could "decimate" the assembled demonic clan "on a whim," the primary torturer spins to exposit needlessly to his fellows, "They chose us to watch over her, to break her down, and in return we'd share in the ultimate power for which she is the key!" I think after fifteen years they'd know that already, dude. But thanks for hurling the tiny remaining audience for this show into a collective Buffy flashback, anyway. Not. Asshole. The primary torturer jaws at tonight's speaking henchdemon for a bit before deciding that the poor guard's become a liability to their cause, or what have you, and, flipping a casual Flaming Ball Of Death at the guy's chest, sends him on his merrily blazing way down to The Waste Land from which he shall never again return. Then again, who knows what this, the wackiest of all wacky final seasons, may bring? "Gather the witch's things," the torturer instructs the henchdemon. "We'll find her another way." "We cannot use dark magic," the henchdemon warns. "They may sense it. They'll know something's gone wrong -- we cannot risk it!" "We have to risk it!" the Torturer seethes. "We must find out who took the witch if we are to survive." Hon. Chill. You know who her parents and her sister are, right? Why don't you, oh, I don't know, start with them? Whatever. The screen flares white to dump us back up on...
...the Manor sun porch, where Simon Maaaaahks's nasal drone drills into my skull as he ambles about, whining something about having grown up on stories of the Halliwells, and I hate him, and he needs to shut up, and the only reason he's here tonight is so that Raige and Darling Henry might prove to those of us still watching this garbage that they do indeed love each other enough after so short a courtship to get married week, so I'll be ignoring just about everything he does tonight. And I'd "Ooops! Spoiler!" that bit about week's wedding, but it was all over the goddamned promos with Beethoven's "Ode To Joy" playing in the background, so whatever. What. EVER. By the way, Simon Mocks has apparently presented Phoebe with a scroll detailing his family's history, and she's giddily pleased to note, "Wow. Our families worked together during the Salem witch trials? That is so cool." And by "so cool," the Feebs of course means "such a gutshot to continuity, you pommy little shithead, because Melinda Warren was burned at the stake and her orphaned daughter was forced to flee the town to avoid the same fate, and if that's what you call 'working together,' then you can take your tiresome cliché of an ass and orb it right back to wherever the hell it is you came from, jackhole, before you get us slaughtered, too." In my mind, she means that, at any rate. Simon Mocks also calls the Warren line of witches "a randy bunch," so, you know, he just called them all sluts to their faces (which, okay, kind of awesome, but still) and yet they continue to tolerate his presence in the Manor. Whatever! Long story short, "over forty of the most powerful oracles and soothsayers from around the globe -- plus a wizard or two [who should not exist, because see rants]" have told this trashy loser that he and Raige are destined to unite, so he's here to claim his bride. Needless to say, Raige has Issues with this and tells him to get lost. He persists anyway and, upon learning that Darling Henry's a -- as they put it -- "mortal," proceeds to get all snippy and pissy and SHUT UP, YOU TOOL, and Raige finally orbs the hell out of there with the Feebs. Simon Mocks wills himself to Piper's location for some stupid reason or another.
And Piper's location ends up being the supermarket parking lot, where he startles her into dropping her groceries onto the asphalt upon his arrival, and fuck this shit. Hate the subplot, hate the character, hate the actor, and so long story short, Simon Mocks pleads his case, again, using the same lines he did in the earlier scene with Phoebe and Raige, and Piper tells him to go to Hell. Atta girl. However, Piper's so distracted by all of this bullshit nonsense that she ends up backing the Grand Cherokee into a fender-bender with some enormous truck -- seriously, we soon see that the grille of the thing is taller than she is -- that has suddenly appeared behind her. She hops from the driver's seat spewing apologies and is shocked to discover that the monster truck's driver is none other than Season Six's Fireman Greg. Who? Exactly. Piper smiles out an uncertain "Hi!" while Hilton Cooties guffaws at the randomness of it all, flashing his scary, vermin-infested rack of teeth at her in the process.
Back in the Manor, The Lispy Retard sits with Chissssty atop the bed in Suicide Boudoir and pumps her sister for information on the demonic clan who absconded with her from Chez Jenkins all those many Halloweens ago, and I swear to God, the typewriting crackmonkeys have deliberately overloaded all of her lines with an abundance of "S" sounds just to piss me off. Chrissssty remains traumatized and silent throughout. And...sssscene.
Up in the nonexistent attic, Raige, abusing the Book of Shadows for any and all information on every single demon who ever existed, rages about Stupid Simon Mocks while Phoebe futzes with the potions pot. The doorbell rings far below during all of the blathering, and Raige guhs that she totally forgot about the lunch date she'd scheduled with Darling Henry. Mindful of the current demonic threat, Phoebe advises Raige to keep the boyfriend far away from the Manor, leading Raige to snit that Phoebe's starting to sound like "Sir Full-Of-Himself." "He may not be your Mister Right," Phoebe chuckles, "but he does have a point." Oh, I'm sorry, did I skip over the bit where the pommy little shithead derided Raige for dating a guy who not only would be of no use when battling demons, but might also prove to be a liability at those times as well? I can't imagine how that happened. Oh, yeah: The pommy little shithead's painfully crappy line deliveries temporarily rendered me deaf. That's it.
Down in the foyer, Raige has apparently taken Phoebe's advice, for when we join the conversation between her and Darling Henry, he's protesting that he's never run from a fight in his life. "I deal with violent, dangerous criminals every day," he reminds her. "Those violent, dangerous criminals," she counters, "do not throw [Flaming Balls Of Death] at you." "No, but they do shoot guns at me, you dimwit," he snaps back. Or not, because he truly is Darling and would never insult her to her face, but still: Shut up, Raige. No, Darling Henry actually wonders, "What about Piper's kids? They're here all the time." "They have powers to defend themselves," Raige replies. "They do?" Darling Henry eyebrows, apparently as surprised to learn of Tiny Gay Chris's never-seen powers as the audience is. Raige confirms this startling bit of information before insisting once more that Darling Henry flee the Manor, promising to call him once the threat's passed. "Hold it," he interrupts, laying it on the line, "if I run away every time a demon attacks, I'm gonna be running away all the time, right?" Raige reluctantly allows the point and agrees to his continued presence in the Manor, then smiles a bit as she moves in for a smooch.
Just then, though, Piper comes staggering in from the porch behind them with her groceries and her sociopath, who immediately hurtles past her legs through the front hall, nearly sending her into a carotid-shredding plunge through the front door's glass panes. Darling Henry relieves her of the bags so she and Raige can catch each other up on recent events, which they do during the mini-processing summit that follows. Piper's predictably displeased to learn of Chrissssty's dire warnings regarding Them and Their Imminent Arrival, and Raige is predictably perplexed when Piper reveals that she quite literally ran into Hilton Cooties, because Raige doesn't remember him, either. Well, not initially, at least. After a bit of prompting from Piper, she leers, "Ahhh! The hot Greg. Are you gonna go out with him?" Piper instantly brains her insensitive bastard of a half-sister with a handy crystal candy dish for suggesting Piper cheat on her icy Doltsicle of a husband. Or maybe she just growls, "Don't be ridiculous," as she scuttles out of the frame. I think I prefer my version of the scene's end, however. Go figure.
Suicide Boudoir. Chrissssty, who'd apparently fallen into a deep sleep in the last two minutes, gasps herself upright and awake on the bed. "You can't stop them from coming!" she whimpers, and I realize Marnette Patterson's had little to do thus far this evening aside from catatonically rocking back and forth, but I can already tell from those tiny bits combined with this tense little freak-out on the bed that she's a far better actress than Kaley Cuoco. Thanks for nothing, Charmed. In any event, the Retard, who'd leapt to her sister's side, asks, "When? When are They coming?" The camera pushes hard into Chrissssty's face as she spits, Manson Lamps a-blazing, "Now!"
And They, apparently, are a turkey and cheddar sandwich on white bread, which is what the camera cuts to immediately after Chrissssty's pronouncement, because this show is ass, and I want to die. Actually, we've jumped down to the dining room, where Pack Mule Piper is preparing lunch for her lazy bastard of a half-sister, said lazy bastard of a half-sister's latest slampiece, and her own sociopath of a son. Darling Henry asks the following egregiously dumb question: "So, how long does it normally take for demons to attack?" About as long as it just took for my estimation of your intelligence to plummet from "sentient" to "imbecile," Hank, which would fall roughly into the area of a nanosecond. Piper, far more polite than I am, simply replies that it could happen any time, but the demonic types do tend to wait until it's terribly inconvenient for the Glamorous Ladies, because they're evilly inconsiderate like that. And wouldn't you know it? Barely have those words left Piper's mouth when Maggot Neck and Chrissssty come tripping down the stairs, with the Retard shrieking, "Incoming!" as they go. "What is it?" Raige calls out. "They're here!" Chrissssty shudders, and with that, the two speaking demons from the earlier torture scene squiggle in to the center parlor with a hooded underling. The Retard pushes Chrissssty to the floor as Torture Guy -- whom I'm just going to call "Kiefer" until told otherwise, which will be never, because he's never given a proper name in this episode and even the Internet Movie Database's dedicated Charmed-heads have given up following this awful show, so no help there, either -- conjures a Flaming Ball Of Death in his gnarled Chris Of The Spider Woman claw. Maggot Neck violently TKs both Kiefer and his primary henchdemon to the far side of the center parlor by flinging out both of her hands, and yeah, they're using the same TK sound effect they did when Shannen Doherty flailed around the set all those many years ago, so you can start howling in outrage right now. By the way, she managed to knock either Kiefer or his main Kieferette right out of one of his boots, just so you know.
Darling Henry bolts for cover while The Dead Eyed-Psycho orbs himself up to his nursery. Meanwhile, the hooded underling flings a Flaming Ball Of Death at stunned Chrissssty's head. Piper quickly deploys the Hands, and the underling instantly vanishes in a spray of flame and dark demonic bits. Raige takes on the underling's FBOD itself, flicking a bit of orbing telekinetic mojo at the thing with a twist of her wrist to redirect it against a wall. Unfortunately, her timing and aim are a little off, and the FBOD whizzes past Maggot Neck's massive and hooting reflexive dodge to glance off Darling Henry's left shoulder before taking out a few vases in the dining room. As Darling Henry crumples to the carpet with a smoking gash in his shoulder, Chrissssty, still on the foyer floor, screams, "No!" while pressing her fingers to her temples in twue Fiwestawtew agony, instantly setting the couch before her aflame. Kiefer and the henchdemon rise to their feet to squiggle out as Raige kneels at Darling Henry's side, the Retard lifts Chrissssty from the floor, and Piper calmly retrieves a fire extinguisher from the hall closet to douse the blaze in the center parlor. "What's going on?" Phoebe cries from the lower landing, where she's just arrived from the nonexistent attic. "Ask the firestarter," Piper rather frostily enunciates as the camera pans past her to take in the Retard's grimacing embarrassment. Chrissssty guiltily drops her gaze into the commercial break.
Raige and Darling Henry have moved to the wicker love seat on the sun porch, where Raige applies the tingly touch to his gaping shoulder wound while grouching, "You know, you could have been killed." "I'm okay," he insists. "No, you're not o-kay," Raige twitches. "You werehit...bya...[FlamingBallOfDEATH]," she continues to Shatner as the tingly touch knits up both the gaping shoulder wound and Darling Henry's torn, scorched shirt, "which was...partlymyfault." Darling Henry responds with something I totally missed, because Ivan Sergei chooses this moment to pull a very amusing double-take when Henry realizes that the tingly touch for some asinine reason also mends clothing. This show has been on for eight goddamned years, and Ivan Sergei is the first person to comment on that particular bit of stupidity, albeit in a most non-verbal manner. Hee. Sad, but funny nevertheless. In any event, Raige once more asks him to leave the Manor until they've resolved the current crisis, and this time, he reluctantly agrees to do so. Once he's gone, Phoebe and, eventually, Piper enter the sun porch for yet another mini processing summit regarding Chrissssty, Chrissssty's surprising new power, and what They could possibly have wanted with her for fifteen years. Phoebe's of the opinion that Chrissssty's not so significant a magical entity "unless They know something [the Glamorous Ladies] don't." "All the more reason for her to open up so we can find out," Raige prisses from her perch on the love seat. "She's too freaked out," Phoebe argues, but Raige, likely considering the danger to her boyfriend, snorts, "She needs to get un-freaked out, and fast." Piper, meanwhile, martyrs that she'll put her entire life on hold until they've vanquished the demons, which, you know, vanquishing demons is her goddamned job, so shut up, Piper. Phoebe, however, insists Piper carry on with her day as planned, as she and Raige can handle the threat on their own. "Hopefully," she notes, "we can figure out who we're up against before they come back." "Or before Chrissssty burns down the house," Raige snots. Phoebe and Piper glare at her.
Suicide Boudoir. The Tense Strings Of Miscommunication Between Sisters Because One Of Them Is A Traumatized Long-Term Demonic Kidnap Victim And The Other Is Cross-Eyed, Maggoty-Necked Idiot have returned to the soundtrack. Wow, I hate the Retard, and wow, is this scene entirely unnecessary, mainly due to the fact that we learn absolutely nothing about anything during the minute it takes to air. Again, though, brava to Marnette Patterson on the nice job she's doing thus far with Chrissssty's fear and confusion. Other than that? Whatever.
Hell. …Oh, crap. I'd blocked this scene from my memory immediately after my head exploded the first time I saw it. Kiefer and his henchdemon fret about Chrissssty now benefiting from The Charmed Ones' protection, but that's not why my apartment walls were spattered with brain matter at 7:25 last Sunday evening. No, that actually happened because these two also reveal who They -- "the most powerful evil ever known," mind you -- actually are: The Triad. You know, the Triad that hired the Colethazor to take out the Manor Morons at the beginning of Season Three, and the Triad that the Colethazor then slaughtered at the end of "Power Outage" five years ago. That Triad. AUAUAUAUAUUUUUUUAUAUAUUUGH. ANY-way, they're back, much as The Source Of All Evil himself returned this season, I suppose, and Kiefer and the henchdemon agree that being vanquished by the Ps is preferable to the punishment the Triad would mete out were they to learn of Chrissssty's rescue. Nevertheless, Kiefer orders the henchdemon to "prepare the ritual" to summon the undead threesome anyway. "We'll just have to hope they show us mercy," Kiefer breathes. Yeah, can't wait to see how well that works out for you, dumbass.
Manor. Piper, dusted with flour due to cookie preparations, answers the doorbell to find Hilton Cooties once more befouling the front porch, and fuck this shitty subplot, too. You want to know why? Because Hilton Cooties is only in tonight's episode to offer Piper a opportunity to cheat on her hard, icy Doltsicle, which not only would be wildly out of character for her, but also would make no sense whatsoever because she's displayed absolutely zero chemistry with this guy in the past. And on top of that, the only reason Hilton Cooties makes a move on her later in the episode is because she for some reason can't yank a believable lie out of her ass regarding the Dolt's current whereabouts. Here's a helpful little hint, Piper: When the fireman asks you where your husband is, tell him your husband is temporarily on assignment overseas for his job. So, for all of those reasons, I'm not buying this crap and therefore will be ignoring it as much as possible for the rest of the evening. Long story short, Hilton Cooties works with a guy who can repair the Grand Cherokee's taillight, but he has to do it that afternoon. And...scene? Yeah. Scene.
CRAP! Forgot about this, too. Piper's burning cookies actually set off the fire alarm, so she goes to deal with that while Hilton Cooties foolishly approaches The Dead-Eyed Psycho on the sun porch and attempts to make nice. Before The Dead-Eyed Psycho gets a chance to cackle gleefully while bludgeoning Hilton Cooties to death with a Tonka truck, though, Simon Mocks orbs in outside of Hilton Cooties's line of vision. Simon Mocks instantly mistakes Hilton Cooties for Darling Henry, and starts lecturing him on why witches and mortals shouldn't mix, until Raige arrives from above to tell Simon Mocks to go to Hell again, some more, while dragging him into the front hall. Once there, he conjures some roses for her and she does not beat him over the head with said roses, though eventually she shoves him out onto the front porch, slamming the door behind him. Raige then wheels around to run into Piper, encourages her to take Hilton Cooties up on his car repair offer, and bolts. Piper, tensely twisting her fingers around, offers Hilton Cooties a nervous smile.
Trudeau Memorial, formerly Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World, where Simon Mocks orbs in to annoy Darling Henry. !
Nonexistent Attic. Raige finishes the vanquish they've concocted for the "Scather Demons," whom she and Phoebe have managed to identify thanks to that boot one of them left behind during their earlier incursion into the Manor, but whom Phoebe and Raige have been unable to find, scry though they might. The gals were also surprised to learn that the Scathers lack telepathy, which leads them to believe that Chrissssty's been maintaining some sort of mental contact with them after all. It all manages to segue into a discussion about Darling Henry and the FBOD, during which Raige muses, "I keep thinking -- if that [Flaming Ball Of Death] had been two inches to the left, there would be no Henry to save," because she's an idiot who can no longer tell her left from her right anymore, because if that FBOD had been two inches to the left, it would have missed him entirely, landing as it did on his left shoulder, but whatever, because this show is ass, and I want to die. Musing done for the moment, Raige spins to return to the matter at hand, in the process vanishing off the screen entirely when it flares white to knock us...
...back down into Hell, where Kiefer and the henchdemon summon the Zombie Triad by hurling a Flaming Ball Of Death into a bubbling cauldron. The thing erupts into three separate plumes of black smoke that eventually coagulate into Zombie Triad form a few feet away on the Underworld chamber's dirt floor. "Why have you summoned us?" the Zombie Triad's apparent leader demands. Kiefer and the henchdemon silently stare the new arrivals down until everyone drops right into the commercial break.
"How could you let her escape?" one of the other Zombie Triad guys yells when we return. Spluttering and babbling from Kiefer and the henchdemon, until the other Zombie Triad guy tires of it all and spews jets of flame from his eyes that immolate the henchdemon almost instantaneously. And we never got to know his name, either! So sad. Not. EVER. During the little tête-á-Zombie-Triad that follows between Kiefer and the triple entity that's supposed to be "the most powerful evil ever known," we learn that neither Kiefer and his Kieferettes nor the Triad have the power necessary to take on The Charmed Ones. Because it makes so much sense for The Most Powerful Evil Ever Known not to have the power necessary to take on The Charmed Ones. Ugh. Despite the deficit, however, Kiefer and the Zombie Triad plot to get Chrissssty back.
And speaking of Chrissssty, there she is in Suicide Boudoir, getting both a pep talk and a lesson in channeling her powers from her sssstupid ssssisssster. The Retard telekinetically slides a full wastebasket to the center of the room, then encourages Chrissssty to test her own powers on the thing. Chrissssty thinks real hard for a second and presses her fingertips against her temples. The trash can's contents instantly burst into flame. I'd smack her around for setting a garbage can on fire inside an old wooden home that she doesn't own, but it was the Retard's idea in the first place, and besides, Chrissssty's getting a free pass from me this evening because of what she does in a rapidly approaching scene. The two bleached blondes WOO! about Chrissssty's accomplishment for a bit before the Bimbo tosses a blanket over the blazing trash, smothering the fire.
Simon Mocks and Darling Henry and ANNOYING. Simon Mocks challenges Darling Henry to a duel by conjuring a pair of white gloves into his right hand and sissily slapping Darling Henry with them. At an outdoor café, in plain view of at least thirty people. No, seriously. No. Seriously. And...scene.
Piper and Hilton Cooties and NOT PAYING ATTENTION, especially because this is the scene in which he wonders where the Dolt is, and she does not tell him that the Dolt is temporarily overseas on an assignment for his job. Their insulting banter is cut short when Piper receives a call from home. It's Phoebe, urging Piper to return to the Manor, pronto, because she and Raige have come to the conclusion that higher-level demons must be shielding Kiefer and the Kieferettes from the ladies' attempts to find them. Piper pushes responsibility for The Dead-Eyed Psycho onto Hilton Cooties -- a guy she hasn't seen in two years and a guy she barely knew even back then -- and leaves The Dead-Eyed Psycho at the fire station -- away from which all adults responsible for his well being might be called in the very minute to deal with an emergency -- and flees just as a high-pitched squeal -- and do I mean high-pitched -- assaults Phoebe's ears from the floor above. Phoebe jiggles onto the second floor from below just as Raige arrives from the nonexistent attic and, to steal a turn of phrase from Keckler, oh my awesome. The Retarded Bimbo is on fire. Crappily CGI'd fire, but fire nonetheless. Hooray! And she's such a fuckwit that she's spinning around, flapping her arms in the air, rather than stripping her blazing jacket off or rolling around on the floor. I swear, this woman is too stupid to breathe. And if I'm remembering my C.S.I.s correctly, she shouldn't be breathing right now, because her windpipe should have slammed itself shut from the heat by this point. Raige, doing the only thing she knows how, orbs the blazing hoodie off of the Retard's bizarrely proportioned body and towards points unknown before she and Phoebe race to the Retard's side, wildly wondering what gives. Chrissssty, bless her traumatized little heart, used her pyrokinesis to set her sssstupid ssssisssster on fire, then fled from the Manor with a demon. Why we saw none of this thoroughly delightful series of developments onscreen, I'll never know, especially when they could easily have dispensed with the entire Hilton Cooties scene prior to this one and most of the Simon Mocks sequence that preceded that. Whatever. CANCELLED! The Retarded Bimbo makes squawking noises as Raige and Phoebe gape their collective way into the commercial break.
Manor Parlor. Aftermath. The Retard lisps her unbearable way through a description of the events that transpired right before she was most awesomely set on fire by her own sister. Basically, the Zombie Triad -- whom the gals don't know about yet -- telepathically contacted Chrissssty, murmured sweet nothings into her brain about being "the key to the ultimate power," and then, uh, ordered her to torch the Retard? I'm guessing here. Kiefer showed up to spirit Chrissssty away. While the Manor Morons glumly take this all in, I wonder how, where, and why Piper found the time to change blouses in the middle of a crisis. Granted, the one she'd been sporting up to this point was an uncharacteristically hiddy cap-sleeved concoction one would think she wouldn't be caught dead wearing, but still. Priorities, woman. The endless babbling is cut short when Darling Henry rings Raige's cell with a frantic "What do you know about duels?" Raige immediately orbs over to...
...an alleyway in which Simon Mocks and ANNOYING! Basically, he's sitting off at a distance from the main action and telekinetically manipulating a length of rebar in a fencing match with Darling Henry, who must of course fend for himself the old-fashioned way by swinging his own length of rebar around with his hands. Needless to say, Darling Henry is a battered and bloody mess, but I suppose the special effects in this sequence are fairly well done, and that's what we're supposed to be focusing on at the moment, and not the fact that the pommy little shithead is coming awfully close to killing Raige's boyfriend by knocking him around with a piece of iron. Raige screams for Simon Mocks to knock it off, so Simon Mocks of course slams the rebar into Darling Henry's head once more before TKing him violently across the alleyway, where he lands at Raige's feet. "Got him right where I want him," Darling Henry gamely huffs at Raige's shoe. Raige guhs as Darling Henry pulls himself to his feet to address the -- in his words -- "pompous son of a bitch" at the other end of the alley, and I was going to transcribe it until I realized it's a horribly written and clichéd monologue that only works because it's Ivan Sergei delivering it. So, long story short, Darling Henry proves that Simon Mocks doesn't know nearly as much about Raige Matthews as he himself does, Raige and Henry profess their love for one another, Henry decks Simon Mocks in the jaw, and Raige sends Simon Mocks back "across the pond" with a dismissive flick of her telekinetically orbing wrist. "Told you I never run from a fight," Darling Henry reminds Raige. They goof off each other for a moment before we head back to...
...the nonexistent attic. Piper's Book abuse has turned up numerous entries on various "ultimate powers," all of whom have been vanquished in the past. Just then, Chrissssty telepathically connects with the Retard. "She wantssss ussss to reversssse the To Call A Losssst Witch sssspell sssso we can come find her!" "How in God's name does your damned stupid sister know about that spell?" Piper asks on behalf of the audience, perhaps using fewer words than I just did there. Alas, we are never to receive an answer, Piper or the rest of us, for Hagula butts in at this moment to state flatly, "It doesn't matter, because we're not going." Thanks for nothing, Feebs. Besides, Chrissssty doesn't want your bony ass down in Hell, anyway -- she's only looking for the Retard. Piper and Phoebe protest that the Retard is likely walking -- or orbing, or glowing-golf-ball-clouding, or whatever -- into a trap, but Maggot Neck insists. Phoebe warns that if she's not back in five minutes, the sisters are heading in after her. I don't think she really means that, though, because I swear to God that deep down inside, the Manor Morons hate her as much as I do.
Hell. A swirling cloud of glowing golf balls deposits the Retard upon the dirt of Kiefer's chamber. "Chisssssssssssssty?" she calls out, the unbearable sibilance echoing off the chamber walls. Chrissssty emerges from the shadows followed by Kiefer himself, who snarls, "Your sister can't be saved, and neither can you." Maggot Neck slackjaws her way into the final commercial break.
Hell. Kiefer and the Kieferettes wing Flaming Balls Of Death at the Retard's oddly proportioned ass, but she manages to dodge them all by tumbling behind a boulder. She screams for Chrissssty's help, but poor little Chrissssty's looking massively sedated at the moment, so it's up to the Bimbo to try to talk her sister out of it. Which she does, even though it involves abandoning the boulder's cover to emerge into the open and hiss at Chrissssty for thirty seconds, during which not one of the demons present dusts her maggoty ass, because everyone on this show is a fucking moron. Maggot Neck finally manages to get through to Chrissssty, and there follows the worst vanquish I've ever seen on this show, and that's coming from a guy who remembers them all, from the horrid effects of the very first to the miserable insult of the most recent. Chrissssty places her fingertips on her temples to think real hard once more, in the process conjuring a rapidly expanding ball of flame that rises from the center of the chamber towards the ceiling. The Retard then telekinetically redirects fingers of that flame towards each of the demons present, cremating them all despite the fact that she wasn't being very quick about it at all, which means the demons at the end of the flambé line should have squiggled the fuck away before the tongues of fire hit them, but whatever, because CANCELLED! Chrissssty and the Retard embrace before they're caught up in a swirling cloud of glowing golf balls that deposits them...
...back in the nonexistent attic. "Well?" Phoebe opens. "It's over!" bubbles the Retard. Piper and Phoebe exchange A Look that clearly indicates they don't share the Retard's opinion regarding the finality of the matter, but remain silent as we cross-fade into...
...the brief Closing Travelogue that eventually leads us to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge, where Raige orbs in with -- at his request, as it turns out -- Darling Henry, who's come to think of it as their place in the weeks since she dropped the bitchcraft bomb. A cutely endearing scene follows, but little, if anything, that they say to each other is of any long-term importance, so let's cut to the chase: Darling Henry gets down on one knee and, producing a small diamond ring from his jacket pocket, asks Raige to be his wife. She agrees, without hesitation. He carefully slides the ring onto her finger before scooping her up in his arms to spin her around for a couple of turns before they settle into a kiss. If I cared at all about this assy show at this point, I'd say that was kind of sweet.
Meanwhile, back at the Manor, Hilton Cooties and NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO ANY OF THIS AT ALL. He tries to kiss her because she's inadvertently leading him on because she's apparently incapable of telling him that the Dolt is temporarily overseas on an assignment for his job. She immediately pushes him away and still does not tell him that the Dolt is temporarily overseas on an assignment for his job, but does manage to get rid of him anyway, hopefully for good this time. Though, hell. If they can drag the Triad back from the dead on this goddamned show, what's keeping them from throwing Hilton Cooties into the seven episodes?
Suicide Boudoir. Maggot Neck and Chrissssty leaf through an old scrapbook -- that is, if you consider scrapbooks that have only been around for fifteen years "old" -- and rank on each other for the embarrassing preadolescent crushes they had on Pee Wee Herman and John Stamos, respectively. Chrissssty then apologizes for setting the Retard on fire, but you can totally tell she doesn't mean it. Well, I could totally tell she doesn't mean it, because Chrissssty and I are now most awesome BFFs and she's been sending me telepathic messages through the television screen. The two vow to protect each other to the bitter end, or something, as the camera cuts outside the Boudoir door, where Piper and the audience find nosy Phoebe with her ear pressed against the wood. Seems the one thing Phoebe misses since moving to The Hagquarters is eavesdropping on everyone else in the Manor, which I'd normally rip her to shreds over, but hey. It's character continuity, and from the very first season, no less. That's got to count for something. I'm not sure what it counts for this late in the game, but there you go. Anyway, once Piper busts Phoebe, they turn towards the center of the second floor to hash out tonight's events, which have left Piper supremely wary of Chrissssty. "She's the 'key,'" Piper reminds Phoebe, "and whatever that means, it can't be good." Sure as hell blew chunks when the key was played Michelle Trachtenberg and Michelle Trachtenberg's Shiny, Shiny Hair (but mostly by Michelle Trachtenberg's Shiny, Shiny Hair), so I can't say I disagree with Piper. Phoebe, of course, is of another opinion. "Maybe it is!" she suggests. "Maybe she's here to help us fight whatever comes , you know? Maybe they both are." "I guess," Piper concludes with a sigh, "we're just going to have to wait and see." Yeah, but we'll only have to wait and see for seven more episodes, because CANCELLED! Hooray!
Meanwhile, over in Not!warts, the Zombie Triad shudders up through the floor on sharply defined columns of black mojo to materialize upon the faux marble with menacing expressions on their faces. "She's in position," the point man announces before turning to face his fellows. "We're almost there." The Zombie Triad muah-ha-ha-has as the screen flares white one last time before slamming to black.
week: Like, the thirty-seventh wedding episode they've aired since 1998. Raige looks lovely, and Darling Henry dapper, but please. Enough with this bullshit already.