Piper -- realizing how simple the vanquish will be, and horny to boot -- bails to schedule a late-afternoon booty call with Hilton Cooties after ordering Phoebe to put Saba back in her bottle. "No offense," she offers before sailing out the door, "but we've been burned before." Phoebe apologetically restates Piper's request, and Saba dematerializes in a whirlwind of pink smoke to vanish down the garish bottle's neck. "I feel so bad," Phoebe glums. "As well you should," Big Chris chides, in tones indicating that he's well aware he's addressing someone with the mental capacity of a particularly slow four-year-old. "If we don't do something soon," he continues, "I could end up half-fireman." "I'm running out of time, here," he adds, crossing from the Book's stand to his aunt, "so whaddya say we use that genie to make Mom and Dad…you know." "That's vile," Phoebe squints, disgusted. "And against the rules," she adds. "I would think that you wouldn't want to be conceived that way." "Better than not being conceived at all," he counters with an annoyed shrug. Phoebe rolls her eyes and reminds him she agreed to help, but only on her terms.