Road Trip. In which some rowdy frat boys hit the highway, trashing DreamWorks' newly-won Oscar cred.
Establishing shots. Caterwauling. Y'all know the drill. Halliwell Manor. Parlor. Alyssa's still on "high mug," limping around furiously while interrogating Frenie about who sent him: "You don't KNOW who LICKED THE STAMP! I find that HARD TO BELIEVE!" Prue, who has no room whatsoever to dis anyone's fashion sense, thinks the big question is why Frenie is standing in their living room "wearing that," i.e. the standard issue "satin vest and harem pants" genie uniform. Shut up, Prue. We all saw the atrocities of your "theme" outfits this season. Frenie doesn't "get" why they want an explanation; he has wishes to grant for each of them. He explains, "You RUBBED! Now I SERVE!" and gets distracted by an open bowl of peanuts or sunflower seeds or something, and wishes aloud that he was "free" so he could nosh while he makes yummy noises. Leo, to his credit, warns the Ps, "Don't trust him," because genies are "tricksters by nature" who'll do anything to be freed. Frenie: "What are you, the butler?" He tries to push the wishes on the witches again. Phoebe thinks, "No way this is legit." Frenie threatens to become their "permanent houseguest" until they decide to take him up on the wishes.
Sunroom. The Ps and Leo hold a processing summit. Leo explains that Frenie can't harm them unless they wish for something. Any wish they choose will have an unseen consequence blah blah blah monkey's pawcakes (tm Sars). The sisters agree not to wish for anything, and announce their plans to take on the day. Phoebe, turning callous into self-effacing, tells them to "leave the genie with the cripple." She'll do research on him in the Book of Shadows while Piper heads to the nightclub and Prue goes on her lunch date. Prue kisses Phoebe and says, "Thank you, gimp!" Because together, they are the callous Ps.
Restaurant. Prue sits at a table with Dick, who's a pretty cute guy. Except he seems to think that there is such a thing as a short-sleeved dress shirt, which he wears with a tie a la Homer Simpson and Andy Sipowicz. Prue decides to go all Rules-Girl on him anyway, asking him to recommend something for her to eat from the menu. He geekily monotones a list of the entrees, deeming them all "fine." We GET IT -- this is the type of guy the producers usually foist upon Phoebe. Prue makes a whatever face (tm xix). Then she picks up her menu and says aloud, "What have I gotten myself into?" Rude, much? But Dick gets distracted by a teeny cartoon Frenie that appears perched on his menu. Frenie dives into Dick's mouth. There's too much subtext here for me to stop and figure out what aspect of this occurrence I'm tittering about. Dick/Frenie shudders, gasps, and channels Jim Carrey, fast-talking, "Don't you just love butter? Creamy goodness!" He pops a butterball into his mouth. I think a cheeseball would have been more appropriate, but whatever. Prue gapes. Dick/Frenie goes all sincere, admitting that he's "not halfway worthy of even dating [her]" because he's "dull as mud." He ponders aloud, what is Prue looking for in a guy? You'd think Prue would get suspicious at this 180-degree mood swing, but she snatches up the opportunity to talk exclusively about herself real quick. Prue: "I don't know . . . dating's kind of a job, you know . . . you get numb but you feel it's your duty to stay out there . . . I just want to get excited by love again . . . I wish it was like the first time." Dick/Frenie: "Your wish, my command." He snaps his fingers. Mojo-activating music tinkles.