Halliwell Manor. Parlor. Phoebe "Flight of the Bumble P" Halliwell, in a tasteful red top, loose perm, and unfortunately Bedazzled jeans, is bitching and moaning while Piper "She's Answering that Doorway to Heaven" Halliwell wraps an Ace bandage around Phoebe's ankle. Leo "Wraith Healer" Wyatt observes from an armchair. Seems Pheebs has been injured while "kick-boxing a beast." She mugs, mutters, and elaborates, "A random attack! A demon drive-by!" Piper whines, "Nothing in our lives is random anymore." THE HELL? Piper, you live in world bereft of continuity! EVERYTHING IS RANDOM! Phoebe agrees, wanting to find a "cosmic order to all this." I cosmically order them both to get clues. This conversation makes no sense. Then Phoebe rewrites history by stating that the Halliwells had "a great year." She thinks that since they "wiped out a ton of nasties," they might have "tripped a supernatural alarm." Piper shuts her up with some rough bandaging. Phoebe yelps, "OW." Piper rolls her eyes. Word. Phoebe blathers some more about cosmic meaning. Leo goes sage-like, advising, "Everything happens in its own time. Don't rush what's to be." Pheebs makes a smooshy mouth in response. Piper moves the topic to herself: Dan will be back in town soon. She expositions about his research into Leo's death from the "Ex Libris" episode (continuity alert!). Piper: "He's going to expect a reaction from me." Phoebe: "Oh. Like: Dan, you're right. I am a necrophiliac." Heh. But really -- does Piper really owe Dan anything? And would Phoebe even know such a large, complex word? No, and no. Piper intentionally twists Pheebs' ankle and admonishes her. Just then, "The Grand" Prue "Bah" Halliwell, sporting a peasant blouse and jeans, lopes into the room. Piper wonders where she's "off to [sic]." Prue admits she has "a date with . . . Dick." Phoebe calls the guy "dull Dick" and assures Prue that she's "too hot to have to duty date." Prue whines about being "less picky" since her life is "all demon-hunting, no play." So she's seeking more "balance" in her life. Piper: "Yeah, but you don't need DICK." Prue gapes. Phoebe smirks. Leo titters. THWOCK! The combination of unsophisticated joke-writing and Shannen's suggestion that the players "mug unrestrainedly" just hit a big ole bulls-eye with this show's target demographic of thirteen-year-olds. Hee hee! "Dick"! Piper explains that she meant Prue should have a date she's "excited about." Prue says Dick "isn't that bad." Piper gets up and announces that she's heading to the club. Leo helps Phoebe off the couch. Pheebs says that she's "going to take a walk and try to loosen up this ankle," because she's a moron. Sure, hon, cure a sprain with a brisk walk. And treat open wounds with salt and vinegar while you're at it. Perhaps Piper should've wrapped a bandage around Phoebe's head sprain.
Porch. Shannen frames this shot from the ground, where a tan box with ornate metal trim is sitting. Piper opens the door (natch). Prue spies the box and grabs it. Phoebe and Leo join them in the foyer. The box is opened. Piper takes out the bottle/vase/urn and wonders if someone has "a secret admirer." Phoebe bitches that the bottle is "dusty." So she decides to, um, rub the vase vigorously up and down while Piper holds it in front of her. The horizontal bottle ejects a -- titter, titter -- stream of white mist across the room. It turns into Frenie. Leo and the Ps gape. Frenie makes a squinty eye face and offers, "Your wish is my command."