Phoebe faces all of this smugness with a sigh and stammers, "[The Chinless Wonder] makes me feel..." She trails off for a moment, during which I fill the dead airtime with my very best Sylvester impersonation. "He just makes me feel," she eventually continues, though I'm adding emphasis absent from Alyssa Milano's line reading, "and it's really beautiful, so could you please just be happy for me?" Raige offers to cancel her nooner with Slampiece Max, but the Dolt suggests the situation might be better served by Piper's freezing power. Piper icily observes her useless oaf of a husband.
We get a jumpy helicam-on-crack transitional montage of the city before cutting over to Piper swerving the Grand Cherokee into a parking space, tires squealing. Phoebe and Piper are late due to some snarled traffic, and Phoebe sports an afghan as a skirt. An afghan as a skirt. Eilish's brain is just completely gone, isn't it? Eilish scarfed down some bad beef a few years back, and now the BSE has made Swiss cheese of her brain, so she just lolls her head back and forth in her cubicle on the lot, drooling over swatches of mismatched fabric while her crafty Eve Harrington of an assistant does her level best to destroy what remains of the boss's tattered reputation. Good God. An afghan. Ha! So, where was I? Oh yeah: Phoebe hustles her afghan-clad ass -- snerk! -- into Gonzo's low-slung office building as Piper attempts to reach him on his cell. While Piper gets an earful of one of those "subscriber not available" recordings, a delivery van pulls up alongside the Jeep, blocking it from the street. Piper exchanges a few tart words with the driver, who basically tells her to suck it up. Phoebe jiggles out of the building and breathes, "Oh, no," as police sirens wail in the background. The "bistro" is a mere two blocks away, so Phoebe insists they hump the remaining distance on foot.