The Demon Cam On Crack jostles us several blocks over and several hours later, where we smack into the neon sign outside P3. Down on the stage, this Michelle Branch person lip-synchs badly to one of her "songs." You're supposed to actually sing while they're filming you, you shrew, otherwise you blow the illusion when the muscles in your throat don't move. Not that I really care, because I get to fast-forward through this entire sequence, which, you should know, takes up a full minute of my tape. And look at that -- here's the Dolt toting a champagne bucket over to the Glamorous Ladies' usual table. Piper and Phoebe are hosting a small celebration in honor of Darryl's promotion to lieutenant. Piper, poor dear, has been thrust into Eilish's crack-addled stab at "expectant mother eveningwear" -- a glossy silver-and-black top that seems to have been stapled together from strips of Barbarella's shower curtain. The Fun Bags, meanwhile, threaten to pop from a comparatively sedate floral corset with periwinkle piping around the cups. The winner of tonight's P3 fashion contest -- in the sense of, "No, really! She looks good!" -- is Darryl's wife, clad as she is in a simple, rust-colored halter with a tastefully low-key necklace beneath a sleek cap of sixties-style pixie hair. And allow me to take a moment to go, "Darryl's wife! It's Darryl's wife! Woo! And a hoo! I'd wonder where the hell you've been the last four and a half years, but I'm too excited to see you! Whee! Mrs. Darryl! Sorry you don't get a single line of dialogue, or even a name, for that matter, but hooray! It's Mrs. Darryl! Yeah!"
Just as Piper and the Feebs lie to Darryl and his wife regarding Raige's absence, the missing P herself saunters down the stairs in what I'll remember as the most trying element of tonight's Very Special Centennial Episode: a loose, sleeveless, belly-baring white top featuring a limp, lacy black ruff at the neck over a pair of matching drawstring pants. For one thing, white washes her out completely and should be banned from her wardrobe. For another, she's a pointy hat and some puffy buttons away from turning into a girly, teenaged Pagliacci. Raige The Sad Clown? I wouldn't think so, but that's what they apparently would have me believe. In any event, Piper and Phoebe dart over to the stairs to hustle Raige into a secluded corner. They're worried, you see, that Raige will hose down the bar with snot rockets while orbing uncontrollably hither and yon. Raige insists that she's conquered her itchy schnozz with some of Not Ava's herbal gypsy nonsense. Nevertheless, Piper and Phoebe sit Raige down for a chat. They confess that they're concerned about the previous night's attempted vanquish, and want to know what gives. Raige sighs and reluctantly admits that she's been feeling "suppressed" lately -- after having been an only child for so long, she's chafing under the constraints of life "by committee" in the Manor. Piper wonders how Rose McGowan pissed off Brad Kern to the point that he'd saddle her with not only a hideous outfit, but also this improbable, slapped-together, out-of-the-inky-depths-of-left-field character point for the landmark hundredth episode. Or maybe I wonder that while Piper wonders what she can do to fix things. Raige shrugs her shoulders and hesitantly states, "I just think maybe I need to start looking for my own place to live." Phoebe lifts her brows to the heavens while Piper stifles an incredulous gape.