The camera cuts to a vaguely Beaux-Arts municipal façade, and oh, dear God. Do I really have to slog through this Who's The Biggest Moron In All Of San Francisco crap as well? The Merry Mansons frolic and gambol around a tiresome flautist in front of a public fountain. They think the tedious one's their new Seder, you see. I mean, "satyr." Whatever. Various locals ooh and aah and tape the display on their camcorders because they've never seen lice-ridden homeless Deadhead hippie freaks tripping on acid IN SAN FRANCISCO and then a couple of uniformed cops break things up. The Mansons scamper off to a nearby clot of trees and vanish. The pre-credits demon with the fiery hand skulks in the background, glowering for a bit before he
smears back to the scene of his pre-credits crime to greet a squat oaf who's idly tooting on the vanquished pansy's flute. Long story short, they're brothers hell-bent on avenging their father's murder. For this reason, they must drink from the "eternal spring" to become immortal and invincible. Unfortunately, they can't find said spring on their own, which is why they're chasing after the Merry Mansons. Got it? Good.
The Bay Mirror. Phoebe, who's changed into a pink spandex top gloriously free of nipple-age, slinks from her office to tiptoe out the front door. Chronic catches up with her, wondering what gives. Phoebe reluctantly turns to greet him, and they proceed to discuss the prior evening's bloody events in front of everyone in the newsroom. Now, to be fair, Chronic's trying to be subtle by cautiously whispering all of his lines, but Phoebe's yammering on about it so loudly, her voice is echoing off the damn walls. "About last night," Chronic quietly begins. "IT WAS A HUGE MISTAKE," Phoebe replies. "I AGREE IT SHOULD NEVER HAVE HAPPENED." Chronic shakes his head and murmurs that he wanted to say, "It was amazing." I presume he's referring to the fornication, and not the amount of blood Phoebe lost. Phoebe allows herself a giddy little moment before countering, "YOU'RE MY BOSS AND I DON'T WANT MY PERSONAL AND PROFESSIONAL LIVES TO COLLIDE." She then stamps her foot on the bare floorboards and blares, "WE CAN STOP THIS RIGHT HERE AND NOW BEFORE IT GETS ANY WORSE." Louder, moron -- I don't think the personnel department heard you.