Darkness within cannot be undone:
Embrace your true self...
Unfortunately for him, Piper charges into the hall at this point to unleash her Hands Of Discontent, so Roché never gets to complete the spell. And given where he stopped in the recitation of the thing, you all understand the horror that's to come, right? Good. Roché, in any event, flies backwards through the air from the mojo blast until he smashes against the far wall and drops to the floor. "Dammit!" he seethes before squiggling out. "Drake, are you okay?" Phoebe breathes as she races to the fallen ex-demon's side. "Drake?" he all-too-predictably replies. "Who's he? I'm Robin of Locksley!" "Of course you are!" Raige grumbles for me as she and Piper goggle and gape their collective way into the commercial break.
Manor hall. Drake's trying to shoot an arrow through an apple, and keeps missing. Sounds stupid, yes? Well, it is, but again, Billy Zane's making it far more entertaining than it has any right to be, as he will continue to do through the hijinks that follow. Piper warns him against shooting holes through her walls before joining her sisters on the sun porch, where Phoebe's been abusing the Book of Shadows in a futile search for a reversal that will restore Drake to his regular hammy self. The discussion that follows is intercut with shots of Drake demolishing various antiques, but I'll not be giving you the play-by-play. Just assume Billy Zane's being an enthusiastic dork about it all. In a leather babydoll dress. With Jami Gertz's 1980s Lost Boys mall hair. God, that wig he's wearing. Heh. Piper quickly reveals that she can't freeze the unwanted houseguest before correctly surmising that, as she blew up the sorcerer mid-spell, they're stuck with Robin Hood until they figure out a way to undo it all. Phoebe, meanwhile, has found a vanquish for the sorcerer, and Piper again correctly reasons that once they off Roché, the spell's effects will vanish. Unfortunately, they have no way of tracking him down. Raige announces her intention to orb off to Not!warts to enlist Ann Cusack's help in the matter. When questioned as to why she can't perform the necessary research herself, Raige shrugs and mugs her waffling way through her own tedious Issue Of The Week for a bit before finally, at long last, disappearing through the ceiling. Drake, meanwhile, has found Phoebe's phone bill, and immediately starts shouting about unfair taxation, and I don't have the patience for this bullshit, so let's cut to the chase: Drake conjures his motorcycle to confront "Prince John" Normand of the phone company, and Piper orders Phoebe along for the ride to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. This should work out well for everyone involved. After further conjuring a couple of helmets for Phoebe and himself -- his, of course, is of the medieval-armor variety -- Drake zooms out through the telekinetically opened front door, with Phoebe snatching her jacket from the entrance table as they pass. Piper, left alone, weeps bitter, bitter tears of irritation and despair. I hear ya, doll.
Oh, whatever. Downtown, Drake pulls the motorcycle up to a curb outside the phone company's payment center, from which a long line of disgruntled customers stretches all the way down the block. There's also a Brinks armored van present because, as you know, everybody still pays utility bills in person with cash. I hate this show. Drake natters dizzily about the money in the van belonging to the people and whatnot before he lopes into the center, where a big-boned gentleman calls him "Pocahontas." Heh. Unfortunately, that's the only amusing part of this entire stupid, pointless, dreadful, painfully unfunny scene, which involves Drake basically inciting some sort of populist riot against the evil forces of The Man. The Phone Company Man. Kill me now. After he leads all of these idiots out into the street, Drake next commandeers the armored van and starts tossing fistfuls of cash at the crowd. Phoebe eventually manages to drag him away as police sirens wail in the distance. The camera pans up through morons scraping $20 bills off the pavement to reveal Roché lurking in the payment center's foyer. Drop fucking dead, Roché. And it was going so well. Well, for this show, at any rate.