Open Sesame. Saba toasts a few uppity henchnomads with a couple of Flaming Balls Of Death, instantly gaining the eternal devotion of those who remain. She orders Cholo to keep digging for Zanbar while she embarks on "a witch hunt" with a handful of his "best fighters."
Manor, that evening. Up in the attic, the Dolt tears a sheet of yellow legal paper from the pad upon which he'd been scribbling and balls it up in frustration as Big Gay Chris lopes in from the stairwell with the garish genie bottle, searching for the Mystical Crysticals. "What are you doing?" he wonders, crossing to the table, and believe it or not, HE FINALLY CUT HIS GODDAMNED HAIR. For those of you who don't follow the spoilers, I suppose I should explain why this bizarre rupture in the fabric of continuity has not resulted in a brain-destroying aneurysm for yours truly: This scene wasn't in the original script, and apparently was filmed after the cast returned from the December hiatus, during which Drew Fuller evidently sheared off about three inches of his lanky coif. Why am I not screaming? Well, for one thing, the scene's endearing to the point that I'm on the verge of referring to the Dolt by his real name, and for another, CHRIS FINALLY CUT HIS GODDAMNED HAIR. Anyway, the Dolt's rather cutely frustrated, because he's been trying to compose a written apology to Big Gay Chris but can't get the wording right. Big Chris beams, assuring his father that the gesture's not necessary, but you can tell he's so happy about the whole thing that he's about to burst from joy. "But after everything I've put you through," the Dolt protests, "I feel like I owe it to you." "Honestly?" Big Chris admits. "A letter's not going to mean a hell of a lot to me -- I got plenty of them growing up." "Sorry?" the Dolt asks, befuddled and a tad upset. "Uh, from my father," Chris dodges. "He wasn't around much." "That's awful," pouts the Dolt with immense amounts of Whitelightery sympathy. Hee. "You want to talk about it?" he offers, sliding out a chair for Big Chris. "No!" Chris exclaims, urging the Dolt to focus on Piper instead. The Dolt is far more concerned about Chris, who seems to have been unusually stressed out lately. "I'm concerned about you two," Chris replies. "You need to get back together already. Any chance that's gonna happen?" The Dolt shakes his head sadly and says, "I don't think so, but thanks for caring, man." "We've both moved on," he continues as he rises to amble over to fetch the Crysticals, "and nothing short of a miracle could make that happen." Chris heaves a weary sigh and gazes at the garish bottle in his hand, a cunning plan forming in his freshly-shorn head. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, sweetpea, but you really could stand to go a little bit shorter, you know what I mean?