The Bay Mirror. Phoebe warily crosses the threshold into the main room and is immediately set upon by her harried assistant. Seems the server crashed, and everyone's frantically searching for hard copies of their otherwise-lost work. Frank The Violent Misogynist Twit storms past, bellowing something unkind at Elise Rothman, Girl Editor, who follows close on his heels with a few choice words of her own. Phoebe's Fucking Backup Band kicks in when she catches Frank's eye, so she taps Elise on the shoulder, then socks her in the eye once she's turned around. See what I mean about slinging Frank into jail? Sure, it'd be a bit extra-constitutional, but no one seems to give a damn about the Constitution anymore, so what's the big deal? We can just say it's a preventive measure and lock him away for life. Everybody happy? Also: Cram it, Phoebe. Just because you channel the intense emotions of others doesn't mean you're allowed to act on them. Hag. I hope Elise tosses your worthless ass into jail alongside Frank's. Anywho, Elise flies backwards from the impact and takes out a courier. The Violent Misogynist hoots and howls with glee, so the courier clocks him in the jaw. Hooray! The Violent Misogynist slams into another gentleman, and a tussle erupts. Phoebe attempts to intervene and for her trouble is thrown into a filing cabinet, upon which she gashes her forehead. Pause. Rewind. Play. Pause. Rewind. Play. Pause. Rewind. Slow-forward.
Ritzteukolskyandruben Please Hold. Fiesty Flo relates her tale of woe over a couple of mugs of steamy Joe. If I keep rhyming, it's going to blow, so why don't I simply recap the show? Seems Lecherous Ed grabbed her ass and threatened to fire her if she told anyone. Now he's demanded that she meet with him in private to discuss her future with the firm, and Flo's worried. What if he makes another pass? If she slaps him away again, will she lose her job? Raige promises to accompany Flo to the meeting the following morning, then mutters, "How could I forget this?" The answer's roaring past your office windows, Raige. Yes, Tiny Gay Chris's dragon flaps by as the two women obliviously babble away at each other. A gawky sort in a suit, however, does manage to spot the prehistoric bird before it disappears around the building's corner. Thus distracted, he bumps into Raige, spattering coffee down the front of her flimsy white blouse. Noting the strange, unsettled expression on the gawk's face, Raige asks him what gives. He stutters and stammers and eventually directs her attention to the fire-breathing dinosaur winging its way past the Transamerica Pyramid. "Oh, [fuck]," mutters Raige.
Manor sun porch. Piper abuses the Book of Shadows, no doubt searching for clues to their current situation, until Tiny Gay Chris unhinges his maw and lets loose with a red-faced, screamy temper tantrum. Piper sets the Book aside and tries to placate him with Crusty Ted. She holds Crusty Ted in front of his face just long enough to capture his attention, then sings, "Oh, that's right -- you hate this! You hate this, don't you?" Hee! Passive-aggressive bitchery directed at simpering underage morons never fails to amuse me. Piper gathers Tiny Chris up from his playpen, and he instantly stops crying. After a beat, he starts orbing them up through the ceiling. "What are you doing?" Piper's voice echoes as her body dissolves. "[Chris]!"