The trigger for tonight's Pee-wee's Playhouse Secret Phrase Screamfest is "signs." Though if you'd like to avoid developing polyps on your vocal cords before the evening's done, feel free to add "signs" to your personal Charmed drinking game. Of course, should you choose the latter option, you'll be suffering end-stage cirrhosis by the first commercial break, but who cares? It's your liver, after all. Cheers!
Previously on Charmed, last goddamned week.
Currently on Charmed, the Manor Morons gather in front of the main bathroom's mirror -- the better for us to catch glimpses of their glamoured disguises in the glass, and the better for everyone involved to bungle ferociously the subsequent required overdubbing -- for a rather efficient round of expository blather regarding their Issues Of The Week: Piper, for entirely inexplicable reasons, is worried about what she's supposed to do in the event that a demon attacks anywhere in the world that day; Raige, for depressingly obvious reasons, frets over The Retarded Bimbo's constant jangling of her Whitelightery hot line; and Phoebe, for characteristically selfish reasons, obsesses over the premonition she snagged from Rex Pexter last week in the elevator. Meanwhile, the Dolt thinks he "should have gone taller" with his new, glamoured identity. No, Dolt, you should have gone prettier, because right now you look like some sort of deranged, heroin-addicted Dutch serial killer. Granted, it's a vast improvement over your regular appearance, but still. Piper, peeved that everyone's talking around and over her while she's trying to establish her own Issue, blasts the bathroom with a shrill whistle before barking out, "Family meeting, now!" and stomping out of the room. Phoebe and the Dolt meekly trail out after her as Muggy McGowan goes into conniptions all over the bathroom sink.
Not!warts, and this does my heart good, indeed. The place remains a deserted shambles after the showdown between Zankou and the Glamorous Idiots in last season's finale. Haas stalks through the darkened main hallway before telekinetically flinging open the charred doors to the ruined library, where he's met by a passel of henchdemons, only one of whom gets to speak because of this godforsaken show's drastically reduced budget. The sassy speaking demonette, whose real name is apparently "synonymous with stardom" in her native Israel if the Internet Movie Database is to be believed, which it most decidedly is not, but whatever, places her hands firmly on her hips and confirms, "It's abandoned. Nobody's here." After a pause to consider this, she amends, "Though they could still be invisible -- this is [Not!warts], after all," and I have no idea if she's referring to the students, the faculty, the ever-useless Elders, or the goddamned Charmed Ones, but I do not care, because this show blows, and I want to die, so let's just get past all that so Haas can deliver his next line. "No," he counters, "the magic here is all ours now." And then, to prove his point, he hurls Flaming Ball Of Death after Flaming Ball Of Death around the room, because the FBODs are supposed to...flush out any remaining Nit!wits? Startle the possibly invisible Glamorous Ladies into uncloaking? Pointlessly blow several thousand dollars of this show's rapidly dwindling effects budget for no discernible reason? It's not clear. What we do know is that the resulting explosions make Little Miss Notoriety here all tingly inside, because she shoots Haas a smoldering, come-hither glance once the resulting debris has settled to the floor. Haas flashes his teeth all the way into the opening credits.
Crap. Cuoco lives. And shut up, Brian Krause's Hair.