The Loneliest Precinct House In The World. Andy and Darryl examine a photograph of Brittany, in which her Limelight hand-stamp is prominently displayed. The photograph has been provided by Brittany's live-in love slave Max, who's worried because Brittany never came home last night. The boys send Max on his way with the slender reassurance that Brittany will turn up of her own accord. Once the fretful love slave has left, Andy grimly notes, "Fourth one this week." Darryl, for some reason, responds with, "You do something to your hair?" You think I'm kidding, don't you? I don't make this shit up, people. Andy sticks to the business at hand, expositing that they "can narrow down [the presumed abductor's] feeding pool [sic] to the area around the restaurant." Darryl snarks, "You better tell your sweetheart to lock the door tonight," and whaps his partner's tight little stomach as he eases past to go somewhere else. If I didn't know better, I'd say Darryl's jealous. Of Prue.
Cut to the bell tower of a stately mainline Protestant church beneath lowering skies. Piper silently throws a sideways glare at the front door from the confines of her car. Snicker. "Pastor Williams" thumps on the side of her car with his umbrella, like, thanks for those dings in the door, jackass, and asks Piper why she's so early. In case you're wondering why I'm pegging the church as Protestant, it's because Piper herself addresses this guy as "Pastor," and he's clad in a grey suit over his clerical collar. In any event, it seems Piper made arrangements to drop off [islamic jih=ad]'s lunch leftovers at the church's soup kitchen every afternoon. Piper fidgets, sort of half-admits that she stopped by with a question, then babbles something inane about Mary Estee while asking if it's true that evil beings cannot enter the house of the Lord without God frying their wicked, wicked asses. Pastor Williams smiles that he has no idea, but adds that he wouldn't want to find out, either. He takes his leave of her and enters the church. After a moment, Piper screws up her courage and hops out of her Grand Cherokee. She edges her way across the street, nervously mounts the steps one at a time, and stretches a shaky hand towards the door. As she's about to touch the handle, a thunderclap echoes across the city and the bells in the tower toll. Piper hoots and squeals races back towards her car. Snerk. Silly? Of course, but it was entertaining nonetheless, although you know neither Alyssa nor Shannen would have been able to pull off this sort of crap.