Endless Opening Travelogue, with Ovary. The Ovary whines that she "can shine just like whelks do." No, I don't get it, either. Maybe they should start captioning the various Travelogue Ovaries and Testicles, so we can avoid such gross misunderstandings in the future. Then again, I don't really care. Over at the Manor, the redheaded stepchild contentedly gnaws on a teething ring at the bottom of Tiny Gay Chris's product-placed playpen on the sun porch while Phoebe and Raige eye the tot with varying degrees of pity and wariness, respectively. "I can't believe we vanquished its mommy," Phoebe sadly intones. "Mommy tried to kill us," Raige reminds her. "But look at how cute he is!" Phoebe squeals, her uterus throbbing. "So adorable," she sighs, "except when he does that weird little thing with his tongue." Yeah, if Chronic did that weird little thing with his tongue, you'd handcuff yourself to his side, you tramp. Oh, ew. Did I just say that? I'm telling you, the December hiatus cannot arrive quickly enough this year. I'm losing my mind. The two women briefly wonder why the redheaded stepchild appears to be human before Piper clomps in from the hall with news that Tiny Chris is safely ensconced in The Patricia Campbell Hearst Commemorative Child-Care Nook. Not for long, hon.
No sooner have the words left Piper's lips than Tiny Gay Chris orbs down to join the redheaded stepchild in the product-placed playpen. Tongue Boy lobs an adorably gummy grin at Tiny Chris. The freakish sociopath Piper expelled from her loins on Groundhog Day just stares blankly while drooling down the front of his overalls. Creepy-ass motherfucker. Piper frets about her little psycho's proximity to Tongue Boy, but Raige tells her not to worry, as Tongue Boy's "just a baby." "'Scuse me?" Piper squawks. "Were you at the same vanquish I was, because it took all three of us to get rid of his mother!" "It doesn't mean he's going to turn out that way," Raige argues. "He doesn't have a choice," Phoebe notes. "It's genetic." Raige admits that, as an adoptee, she's perhaps "a little biased," but she doesn't believe that biology determines destiny. Raige, honey? Wrong! Had you argued that, as a woman who devoted a good deal of her adult life to the welfare of various underage unfortunates at THE BLACK HOLE OF SOCIAL SERVICES, you don't believe biology determines destiny, I'd go along with it. However, your odd biology did determine your destiny, and your untidy adoption history has nothing to do with it at all. Whatever! Piper duhs, "This is not a child -- it's a demon." "Fine!" Raige snots, waving her hands around in the air for a bit before suggesting Phoebe activate her Fucking Backup Band to see if she can pick up anything dark and demonic nestled deep within the kid's soul. Phoebe does so, and after a moment is forced to admit that she senses "nothing, good or evil." "My point exactly!" Raige crows triumphantly. "Clay to be molded!" Oy. I think Raige needs the post-sweeps hiatus as much as I do. Piper remains unconvinced and more than a little unsettled with this latest turn of events, but neither she nor Phoebe has any idea how to proceed.
Big Gay Chris orbs in at this point both to further the plot along with a few ideas of his own and to pretty up the place. He's not immediately successful with the former task. With the latter, however, the effect upon his entrance is instantaneous. Woof. He's wearing a sleek black t-shirt with a festive cluster of rainbow-colored fireworks emblazoned across the chest -- go figure -- and he's sporting a pair of khakis that show off his perky behind to great advantage. Sigh. "Did you vanquish the demon?" he asks. Sort of, the gals reply. While the demon Big Chris sicced them on certainly is gone for good, the thing that ate it left behind a little present for the Manor Morons. Big Chris tosses a harassed glance over his shoulder at the playpen's occupants. Tongue Boy's eyes light up, and he flickers his forked tongue directly at Big Gay Chris. "I think he likes you!" Raige perks. No shit. Back off, you little bitch. I don't care if you are five months old -- nobody makes a pass like that at my husband. To his credit, Big Chris snaps, "I don't care! Vanquish it!" Atta boy. "We are not vanquishing a baby!" Raige yowls. "What's wrong with you?" Big Chris scowls that Tongue Boy might be "the future evil that gets to" his tiny self, and you know what? I'm no longer of the opinion that The Done One is Big Gay Chris's significantly younger alter ego -- mainly because I've already seen next week's promo -- so The Reign Of The Chrises is officially over as far as these recaps are concerned. While the regulars on the forum boards have offered many amusing alternate monikers for The Done One, the most amusing, "Tickle-Me Dolt," is far too warm and squishy a nickname for the icy, dead-eyed sociopath we've all come to loathe and fear. I'll be going with The Doltine Psycho for now, but feel free to contribute your suggestions on our boards.