Previously on Charmed, Pepper Anderson, The Best Policewoman In The History Of Forever, wanted the Manor Morons real bad but got an adolescent Kerr Smith instead, which pretty much sucked for her when she ended up strapped to a bed in an asylum in the throes of a Bulge-induced coma. At some later point, Secretly INSANE Brody died in the middle of The Menopause, and they would have us believe by this sequence that it was his death alone and not the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of people worldwide that led the Dolt to break with the Avatars and send the Glamorous Ladies in search of hot Zankou. Because this show sucks. In any event, the gals forced the Avatars to "put the world back," and Raige ended the last episode by learning that the ever-useless Elders had promoted still-dead Brody to Whitelighter.
Currently on Charmed, a harried, frazzled, and half-dressed Piper berates her bar manager Rex from the Manor kitchen via the cordless while lugging around the crabby chunk of mutant whale blubber that's masquerading as Tiny Gay Chris. The dead-eyed Psycho, meanwhile, lurks in his high chair, gnawing ominously on a sippy cup while shooting the occasional death glare at what will eventually become his far prettier younger brother. Seems Rex is insisting on taking Valentine's night off so he can propose to his girlfriend, and Piper, predictably, is none too pleased. As Phoebe jiggles into the room with that morning's edition of All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me, Piper snottily slams the cordless down on the center island and sneers, "I hope she says no." Charming. Then again, she's being a peevish biznatch to a character we've seen, like, once, so I don't really care. As is her wont, Phoebe ignores everything that's already going on in this scene to make it All About Her. She flips the paper onto the island next to the phone and jabs at one of the front-page articles with her index finger. "This is the new face of evil!" she claims as we get a look at the smarmy-looking corporate type whose mug graces the lower fourth of the page under the headline "Normand Admits to Gouging Customers." "His name is John Normand," Phoebe breathlessly continues, "and he owns the phone company and he's been stealing from us for months!" And...that makes absolutely no sense at all, because no one person owns the phone company. Shut up, Phoebe. Of course, this show being what it is -- crap, for those of you either just joining us or extremely slow on the uptake -- you'll find that if you actually freeze the frame on the article and read the first couple of paragraphs, Phoebe's claims against this guy make a little more sense. Not much more, but it's information we receive nowhere else this evening, so here goes: Basically, the guy actually runs some sort of cellular service in the Bay Area and has been exploiting a loophole in the state's communications laws to cut off service to various customers with no warning and little justification. He's then been charging unusually high fees to restore that service, and while the paper notes that none of this is technically illegal, it is at best "unethical." Not to mention shitty, shitty business practice, but this plot point's coming from absolutely nowhere to exist for precisely forty-three minutes and twenty seconds, after which it will disappear entirely, never to be heard of again, so who really gives a rat's ass?
Piper sure as hell doesn't, apparently, for she pretty much ignores Phoebe's blithering in favor of dumping the blubber wad on a changing table and wrestling with its diaper while Phoebe goes on and on and on and on about the corporate contrivance established to inject a bit of peril into Billy Zane's soon-to-be-introduced storyline this evening. Um. Ooops! Spoiler! Phoebe, by the way, is sporting nothing more than a flimsy, low-cut pink satin camisole that I'm certain she'll be treating as actual daywear for the remainder of the episode, and the NIPPLES are rather distractingly pointing in two different directions. The ladies natter about the failed experiment with Utopia for a bit before indulging in an unfunny bit involving the massive load Tiny Gay Chris has dropped in his pants. Once this is done, Piper hauls the blubber wad over to a bassinet near the kitchen table and wonders if Phoebe could watch the kids that evening, as she and the Dolt will have to deal with the nightclub in her manager's absence. Phoebe -- AGAIN -- makes this All About Her by glumming, "Sure. Of course. I mean, it's not like anyone's proposing to me, or like anyone's sending me flowers or reciting me poetry. So much for the little girl I saw in my vision." Ack. Arrgh. Nrrrfffugh. First of all, Phoebe, you were guaranteed that little girl only if you followed through on the whole Utopia thing, and since you didn't, that little girl has gone the way of annoying Melinda, Piper's phantom child from the second season. Secondly, that little girl you saw in your vision was a mentally defective troll, so no big loss. And finally, SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU STUPID, SELF-CENTERED HAG.