Darryl's Big Fat Stupid Subplot. The S.W.A.T. team tears into the parking lot and scampers into position just ahead of Raige's arrival. She'd driven over, because orbing "could have been more magic than [Darryl] had in mind." Whatever. Long story short, Darryl wants to chat with the perp without getting shot, so Raige wings the following spell:
Blessed with powers from my destiny,
I bless this hero with invincibility.
The force of some unseen mojo whomps Darryl in his stomach, and he takes a few steps back before recovering to admit, "It feels real good." "Go get him, tough guy," Raige smiles, so Darryl's off like a prom dress. He strides up to the post office's glass doors and orders the perp to drop his weapon. The perp responds by squeezing off three rounds that in no way shatter the glass doors in front of him. The bullets proceed to bounce harmlessly off Darryl's torso and arm. Darryl eyes the spent slugs on the walkway for a second before heading in. Raige, pleased with herself, turns to leave. What a fucking waste of time and money.
High atop the Golden Gate Bridge's northern support tower, the Dolt meditates with eyes closed and arms outstretched. Oh, fine. Scratch that. Brian Krause stands with eyes closed and arms outstretched in front of a green screen while a giant fan blows in his face, and at some later point the effects department inserted an image of bridge behind him. However, it's fairly well done, so I'm not going to bitch. Much. Big Gay Chris orbs onto the tower with an exasperated "I have been looking everywhere for you!" Suddenly realizing where he is, Big Chris glances about a bit apprehensively and asks, "What are you doing up here?" "Communing with the others," is the Dolt's serene reply. Zip it, moron. Big Chris warily leans over to gaze at the road deck far below and wonders, "Can anyone see us?" "Not me," the Dolt replies with a grin, "but you look like a lunatic standing up here talking to yourself." "Whaddyawant?" the Dolt then mumbles. "It's Piper," Big Chris replies, and at that, the Dolt finally opens his eyes. "Is she all right?" "She's fine," Big Chris assures him before casually adding, "Just out of curiosity, what's the [ever-useless] Elders' policy on vanquishing demon babies?" "Why?" the Dolt side-eyes suspiciously. "No reason," Big Chris shrugs. "There's just one playing with [The Doltine Psycho] as we speak." The Dolt gapes.
Attic. Piper totes The Doltine Psycho in from the hall and places him in his attic enclosure with strict instructions not to orb back down to Tongue Boy. Tongue Boy gets around the ban by squiggling up from the sun porch to land next to The Doltine Psycho. "I give up," Piper mutters as Phoebe hustles up the stairs to blare something about her stupid relationship with Chronic. Piper warns that if whatever she's about to do to Tongue Boy doesn't work, Phoebe won't be alive long enough to care. Am I a horrible person for praying that Piper fails? I'm not? Didn't think so. Incidentally, the longer Piper's had to ponder the whole situation, the less inclined to vanquish Tongue Boy she's become. "Something just doesn't add up about him," she admits to Phoebe, adding that if Tongue Boy were truly a threat, The Doltine Psycho would long ago have erected his Icy Blue Shield Of Calculating Self-Preservation. This sets Phoebe off for some reason, and she bustles across the attic to remove The Doltine Psycho from the enclosure, all the while shrieking at Tongue Boy to stay away from her nephew. Tongue Boy scrunches his cute little face into a wrinkly ball and unleashes that "high-pitched cry" Big Chris read about from the Book. "Put him back down!" Piper panics. Phoebe does so while dimly wondering why. Her answer arrives in the form of the squiggling Hunchback Of Not!re Lame, who materializes behind her to pimp-smack her across the attic into Piper. The two women continue to fly across the room, taking out a book-laden table over by the front windows. The Hunchback Of Not! tries to snatch Tongue Boy from the enclosure, but The Doltine Psycho deploys his Icy Blue Shield Of Coldly Calculating Self-Preservation, zapping the beast's fingers. Piper leaps to her feet to batter The H Of Not! with a few mostly ineffective blasts from the Hands Of Discontent, all the while seething, "Get away from my kid!" H Of Not! squiggles out, only to rematerialize directly behind her. With a roar, he envelops her in his arms and squiggles away. Phoebe inhales sharply and bugs her eyes straight out into the commercial break.