Rrrrgh. The closing travelogue passes from night into day, leading us over to All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me's new/old headquarters. Haggard, bony Feebs staggers through the glass doors to enter her once and future office, wherein she finds SL@mp!EcE spARKL!es casually perusing that morning's edition. The Cooter Tat is visible. And it's dying for a fucking cheeseburger. Would someone feed this woman already? Egg salad! A Zagnut! Anything! Also, Nick Lachey in this scene looks so much like a Botoxed Teletubbie that it would scare the crap out of me, were I paying any attention whatsoever. As I couldn't give a flying rat's ass about either SL@mp!EcE spARKL!es or this stupid subplot, I'll skip to the end: Phoebe approves of spARKL!es's first column, and wishes him luck. She also warns him not to "sully" her "good name," like, don't you think it's a little too late to be worried about that, trash? Phoebe exits with a smile on her face. Her tapeworm hungers still. Are we done yet?

No? Crap. Back in the Manor kitchen, Raige's Moustache again vows to save Not!warts, even though she doesn't as yet have a plan. Meanwhile, Piper decides to head out "into the big, bad world" with the kids for the first time since last season's finale. And...that's about it. Are we done yet?

Still? Shit! Down in Hell, the stupid Dolt plays with Barbas's ashes. Just go with it, because there are only twenty-seven seconds left. The camera suddenly shudders all the way across the floor to get all up in the Dolt's face and I'm looking away now! From somewhere above, the disembodied Head snarls, "Barbas was right -- killing him doesn't kill the pain of betrayal." The Dolt, I believe, rises to his feet to challenge the Head with "Who are you? What do you want?" "What do we want?" the Head repeats as it rapidly materializes at the far end of the chamber before howling, "We want you!" Muah ha ha ha ha ha ha! Also: DUN! Is that DUN! going to last all season, or will other episodes get their own DUN!s? I just can't wait to find out!

Oh, wait a minute. I totally can.

Next week: Hag On A Nag. I can't get into the details with you because I'm still far too traumatized by the promo. Yeeesh.