A bit of advice: Never read Charmed spoilers while watching Johnny Depp's From Hell right before you go to bed, lest you, too, dream you've escorted Piper to a friendly neighborhood tavern where she does nothing but bitch about the rubbery potato skins while a psychotic serial killer lures Phoebe to her doom. And I only ordered the damn potato skins because Piper wanted them! I mean, corner bar potato skins? Ew! What was she thinking? Of course, the whole Phoebe's-Doom bit was immensely entertaining, but Piper, honey? Next time you invade my dreams to suck down a pitcher of mai tais on my dime, would it kill you to pretend you're having fun?
Fade up on a tiny cottage that's packed to its rafters with cats. You'll recognize the human wrangling them all for dinner as Nancy from Groundhog Day, mainly because Groundhog Day's been in heavy rotation as programming filler on TNT for the last decade. I mean, "Nancy" certainly wasn't a pivotal character in the movie, but the second I saw Marita Geraghty's face, I thought, "You make noises like a chipmunk when you're excited, right?" Then I thought, "Gobbler's Knob," and snickered for a good five minutes. On Palm Sunday, no less! If I end up spit-shining Satan's hooves after I'm dead, I'll be placing the blame for it all squarely upon Brad Kern's perverse shoulders. Jackass. Anyway, as Nancy sets down a bowl of cat slop for her frenzied felines, the unfortunate Zachary Quinto blinks into her outdoor garden to glare at her through the window. I say "unfortunate" not because of the hideous bowl assaulting his head -- though said bowl cut certainly isn't helping matters -- but rather because some idiot PA neglected to include his name in the credits for this episode. Get a good lawyer, Zack. There's a sweet breach-of-contract settlement waiting for you somewhere.
Anyway, Nancy senses Zack's eyes boring into the back of her skull, and tenses as the scattered kitties yowl and screech. Dagger in hand, Zack blinks into the room behind her, and offers Nancy a mocking "Meow." Nancy whips around and slices open a jagged series of gashes on his cheek with her fingernails. Zack retaliates by hacking at her neck with his dagger. There's a decided lack of arterial spray, but he does manage to slice through the cord of her pendant, which drops to the carpet at her feet. Marita's stunt double then somersaults over Zack's head to plant a low-heeled pump in his back, booting him into the kitchen counter. Zack takes out a couple of wicker bar stools before collapsing to the floor. "Now!" Nancy hisses as she darts from the room, and we enter the When Cats Attack! portion of tonight's festivities. Furballs fly through air to land on Zack's chest, in which they promptly embed their claws. There's one hysterical shot of a ginger-haired feline hurtling over the back of the couch like it's some sort of kittenish ninja kamikaze. After a bit of this, the cats disperse, and Zack staggers to his feet to find himself alone in the room. He spots Nancy's pendant on the rug and picks it up to examine the trinket's engraved symbol. A metallic triquatra fills the screen before…
…cross-fading to the embroidered triquatra on The Done One's blue blanket over at the Manor. The Percolated Infant wriggles and squirms as Raige asks Phoebe, "So, Piper was engaged before [the Dolt]?" "To a warlock," Phoebe confirms. Raige gapes. "Dan was a warlock?" No, Raige. Dan was a greasy bohunk with a preadolescent shrew masquerading as his niece. Jeremy was the warlock, and Piper was never engaged to him, but what the hell. As we shall see, they've managed to construct a clip show wherein the clips have been manipulated to screw Continuity up the ass, so why quibble about dating terms? Phoebe notes that Jeremy came along way before the Greasy Bohunk entered their lives -- "two bankers, [an unrecapped] rock climber, and a ghost" before Dan Dan The Pomade Man, to be precise. "Now that is what I'd call 'critical sisterly information,'" Raige gripes. "How can I be petty and judgmental without all the info?" Hey! Was that a slam, missy? Because if it was, let me tell you something: It's pretty damn easy to be petty and judgmental without all the info when I'm watching you get moist over a fucking midget, so shut it, okay?