Malice In Wonderland

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Down The Bimbo-Hole

...Piper's Cleansing Day Of Beauty, already in progress. That century-old entertainment cliché, The Overly Chatty Manicurist, hacks away at the nails of one customer in the salon while the mud-masked Piper reclines behind an adjacent curtain, trying and failing to block out The Overly Chatty Manicurist's current monologue regarding the recent spate of missing teenagers who "are coming back like zombies, or something -- vegetables." Like anyone would be able to tell the difference. In the middle of all this, Piper's cell phone rings, and it's the Dolt, and he's locked himself out of the house with the Psycho, who could easily orb back into the house with his father but doesn't, because this is all an asinine, Kern-penned contrivance to amp up Piper's aggravation level by forcing her to cut short her Cleansing Day Of Beauty, and...

...speaking of asinine, Kern-penned contrivances, Raige, who filled out her police academy application five minutes ago, is now standing at attention in full uniform with eleven of her fellow cadets, being lectured by some guy who wanted in The Late Lamented's pants six years ago, and there's that goddamned PVO again, and I quite seriously cannot take this bullshit anymore. Good thing, then, that The Retarded Bimbo chooses this moment to ring Raige's Whitelightery bell, forcing the lippy spastic to flee from her current insulting subplot over to...

...her other insulting subplot. Back in The Dank And Forbidding Alleyway Of Dodgson-Inspired Doom, The Retarded Bimbo flings her athame at Little Miss Notoriety and misses, so Little Miss Notoriety conjures up a series of Flaming Balls Of Death that she hurls at The Retarded Bimbo in rapid succession. Oh, I'm sorry. Did I say "in rapid succession"? I meant "in a painfully slow series of casual lobs necessitated by the fact that Kaley Cuoco, in addition to being a horrible actress, cannot manage to drag her awkwardly proportioned body through the choreographed stunt work quickly enough." HATE. Raige, still in full uniform, orbs in on the middle of all this, so Little Miss Notoriety quite naturally takes this opportunity to smear on out of there. The Retarded Bimbo and The Lippy Spastic exchange a few remarks that are meant to be tart-tongued, but because one of them is a mentally challenged imbecile and the other is constantly in the throes of a grand-mal seizure, can see where I'm going with that. After this sparkling exchange of witty repartee, the two claw and scratch at each other until Raige quite awesomely pimp-smacks the tatty black nylon wig, the massive pair of black sunglasses, and the simpering yet brain-dead smirk straight off of Kaley Cuoco's head. Hooray! Hit her again, Raige! Hit her again! Unfortunately, The Retarded Bimbo scampers quickly to her feet, telekinetically retrieves her athame from the far end of the alleyway, and clatters out of there on her tipply spiked heels before Raige can do some real damage to the peabrain's worthless ass. Dammit. Raige considers chasing after The Retarded Bimbo but just then, another skinny little dipshit of a teenager emerges from behind a Dumpster to whimper, "Help! Somebody just tried to kidnap me!" Raige jogs straight into the next commercial break.

Nonexistent Attic. Raige -- now thankfully back in her regular clothing, and wasn't that little morning-long jaunt of hers into the woefully underexamined world of law enforcement just fascinatingly brilliant? -- diligently scries for The Retarded Bimbo's current location with the latter's tatty black nylon wig as Phoebe burbles into the nonexistent room with a carry-out tray laden with various lattes and mochachinos and such. Phoebe, not surprisingly, is so caught up in her own Issues that she fails to notice the forbidden scrying for about three hours, but when she finally does, you can be certain she chides Raige vehemently about the possible Exposure! and Death To Them All! that The Lippy Spastic is risking and wah. Raige patiently counters that once she successfully deals with The Retarded Bimbo and The Retarded Bimbo's incessant jangling of Raige's Whitelightery alarm system, she'll pack away the scrying crystal for good. Besides, Raige notes, The Retarded Bimbo was actually battling one of the dark demonic forces responsible for the recent disappearances of all those skinny little lazy-ass dipshit teenagers. Phoebe offers to help, but Raige declines, correctly believing that the chances of the Underworld realizing they're not really dead after all will increase in direct proportion to how many of the Manor Morons involve themselves in the current crisis. Just as Phoebe rises to leave, Raige remembers that All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me called for Phoebe's glamoured alter ego, presumably to get a couple of quotes for their planned Phoebe tribute. That's going to make for some compelling reading. Not. The PVO babbles something entirely unimportant about signs possibly leading one into danger just as Raige's scrying crystal slams down on a set of coordinates, and we cut over to...

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