I was expecting the credits here, but I suppose they hadn't settled into that particular routine at this point. Instead, I get a lovely shot of a mist-enshrouded San Francisco at night as seen from a hill in one of the residential neighborhoods, and then we cut over to Shannen Doherty's naked thighs. I let loose a deep-throated howl of abject...never mind. Prue lets an oversized sweater drop down over said thighs as an out-of-focus, shagged-out, and shirtless Andy Trudeau snoozes on his stomach on a bed in the background. Prue quietly crosses to retrieve her purse, shoes, and skirt from a chair near the window as Andy snorts in his sleep. Just as Prue approaches the bedroom door, Andy's alarm clock goes off. For a moment, I'm confused that it's already a quarter to six in the morning, and then I remember they jettisoned continuity to land that initial full-season order. Prue jumps at the sound and whirls around to glare at the clock. The clock obligingly sails out of the open window before Andy can sleepily shut it off. Hee! Prue darts out of the room to commence her walk of shame as Andy flips around on his bed, and wow. Now I understand why people have such fond memories of this guy. Quite the muscled little slampiece, this one. They should have more well-built half-naked men on this show. And on that note, we slowly fade out into the opening credits.
As the Dolt-free credits roll by, I think to myself, "Okay. They should have more well-built half-naked men who aren't Brian Krause on this show."
Canadian commercials, courtesy of CTV. It's all aboot that Maple Leaf Ready Crisp Bacon. I bet it'd go great with some Kraft Dinner, eh?
Wow. The opening travelogue just zips right by, because for once it's set to a song I actually like -- "Torn," by Natalie Imbruglia. What? Shut up. No, seriously. No. Seriously. All of you can shut the hell up. Now. After shots of the skyline and the bay and a cable car practically upending itself down a hill, we land on Prescott Street and Halliwell Manor. In the kitchen, Kit yowls and prances across the counter past the little white television set. Piper whips eggs for omelets while keeping a wary eye on a suitably cheesy and sensationalistic documentary about the witch trials in Salem, Massachusetts. It's all In Search Of with lousy faux-woodcut graphics, cheap sound effects, and the forbidding recitation of overwrought narration. It details one Mary Estee, who supposedly attempted to enter the town church to protest her innocence but was struck by lightning as she touched the door. This bit of information is accompanied on the TV by a tinny scream from the unfortunate Goody Estee. "In the court's mind," the narrator intones significantly, "God Himself had spoken, forbidding the eeee-vil witch from even entering His house." Holly Marie Combs's deadpan of glazed dismay at this piece of information is hysterically funny. "The witches were subsequently convicted of heresy," continues the narration, "and burned alive at the stake." Prue brightly enters the kitchen in time to hear this last bit, and snarks at Piper for watching so trashy a television show. Um. Word, Prue. I think. Piper flutters her hands around dismissively before revealing that Andy called. Prue: "Whin?" Why is Shannen Doherty incapable of pronouncing words correctly? Innyone? I kin wait, but while I do, I'll kintinue with the scene. Piper senses Prue's mood and guesses that the previous evening's date went badly. On the contrary, Prue notes with remorse, it wint rather well -- "Dinner...movie...sex." "You sleaze!" Piper teases, shocked -- shocked -- that Prue would do it on the first date. Prue counters that it wasn't exactly a first date, and Piper exposits that Prue and Andy's history as a couple in high school doesn't count, as that was all "last decade."