In news entirely unrelated to La Famille Retard, Coop drags Phoebe through flashbacks of her entire failed dating history, so about a third of the episode is devoted to rewatching bits we already saw and never needed to see again that include Billy Zane, Chronic, Vex Pexter, Sparklies, the Colethazor, and that warlock from "Pardon My Past," but at least we're spared all of the guys Phoebe screwed in Season One. Meanwhile, Piper and those unexpected Manor visitors -- two sniveling brats from Not!warts -- battle a pair of Noxon demons and manage to sort-of vanquish the more impetuous of the two, leaving his cooler-headed brother alive to menace another day, because this show is still inexplicably on the air. God. DAMMIT.
Previously on CANCELLED!, it wassss raining outsssside the night the Retard'ssss...oh, wait a minute. That clip's not in here. For the first time in ten goddamned episodes. We actually get, aside from a brief reminder of the delightful Angel Of Teasley and the Doltsicle, a bunch of clips from "Engaged And Confused," including Coop's introduction, Raige's wedding ceremony on the sun porch, the Manor Morons congratulating each other on offing two thirds of the Triad, and Candor stopping time to yak away at Ssssecretly Evil Chrissssty about uniting with The Ultimate Maggot-Necked Bimbo. Well, all that, and a couple of crap scenes outlining The Retard's backstory that I'm going to ignore, mainly because most of them came from a shit episode I didn't watch because I was on vacation. Thanks again, Keckler!
Currently on CANCELLED!, Raige, clad in a ruffly camisole top of the exact shade of blue a woman with her pallid skin tone should not be caught dead wearing, bounces over to the Manor's front door to admit Phoebe, who not only has misplaced her keys, but also has misplaced whatever's left of her puny little brain, because duuuuuh, Phoebe. The Manor's front door is never, ever locked. The two amble through the foyer, "bantering" about the new "Mrs. Mitchell" and her impending honeymoon, upon which the more-or-less (and considerably less than more) newlyweds are embarking...two months after the ceremony? Okay, we can go with that, I suppose, but only because the ceremony itself was, as you'll recall, a very last-minute kind of affair. Well, that and the fact that there are so many other mind-bendingly stupid things going on this evening that to focus on the honeymoon's bizarre timing is just more than one recapper can bear. By the way, Raige will be keeping her maiden name, not because recent Halliwell tradition dictates she must, but rather because Phoebe's proposed hyphenate of Matthews-Mitchell "sounds like a law firm." Brief mention is made by the Feebs of Coop and how much of a "magical pain in the [ass]" he is -- like, waaaaaay too much information there, tramp -- before Phoebe makes note of the massive brunch spread the ever-self-martyring Piper has prepared for Raige's "bon voyage" party. Piper herself stands at the far side of the dining room table, right behind her dead-eyed and terrifying sociopath of an elder son and her adorable little wee tiny gay of a younger, and that's the first time I've seen both of those kids in the same place at the same time in God knows how long. Also seated at the table are The Ultimate Maggoty-Necked Retarded Bimbo and Ssssecretly Evil Chrissssty. Chrissssty, quite frankly, looks less than pleased to be there, but that might actually be Marnette Patterson herself. You know, with the slowly dawning and starkly horrifying realization of just what sort of lame-ass garbage her agent signed her on to for eight godawful and neverending episodes. Or maybe that's me, with the projection. There's some guilt-tripping directed at Phoebe and Raige from Piper about how "everyone in [her] life is either moving on or moving out" before Piper perkily offers Chrissssty some waffles. "When will you rescue me from this?" the unwanted and unwelcome houseguest who nonetheless has been treated regally by her ever-giving hostess for the last two and a half months telepathically snarls at her sister, eliciting a shocked "Chrissssty!" from the same while Phoebe playfully barks, "Hey! No telepathy at the table." I really need tell someone to shut up right about now, but I haven't the slightest idea where to begin. God, I hate this fucking show.