Chronic argues that they're two consenting adults who shouldn't be ashamed of what they've done and wah before an underling interrupts to direct their attention to the TV suspended above the newsroom. "Looks like those Godiva Girls have popped up again," mouths the underling. Slick nickname for the Merry Mansons. Not. If they were naked, I'd buy the Godiva reference, but they're not, so I don't. "Ganja Gals" would be more appropriate, but then Chronic would probably want a five-way with them and the Feebs, and that's a disturbing mental image, so I'll just be moving this along. Phoebe winces and slips silently out of the office as Chronic goes all alpha-editor about the Mansons, insisting he doesn't "want to trail this story, [he wants] to lead it!" And why are the Mansons of such importance to a citywide daily? I mean, I wouldn't put it past the local FOX affiliate to lead with the nimrod floozies, but is there absolutely nothing else for Chronic's staff to cover today? No local reaction to Senator Santorum's hate-filled invective from earlier in the week? Nothing out of Sacramento regarding the worst budget crisis to hit the State of California since the Depression? No battered, rotting corpses washing up on the shores of the Bay after four months of floating in the ocean? Nothing? Well, all righty, then. You go ahead and divert all of your resources to a trio of smelly hippies dancing in a fountain, Chronic. Then again, I'm one of those people who can't understand why the Chicago dailies have been leading with that Laci Peterson shit all week, so maybe I should just keep my non-newspapering mouth shut.
Manor. Up in the attic, Piper's scrying unsuccessfully for the Merry Mansons while Raige pens "a spell using the four elements to try to locate their home." 'Cause wood nymphs represent all of nature, or some such bullshit. I don't know, and I don't care, because all this scene accomplishes is the furthering of a subplot I never needed to see in the first place. Piper condescends about the spell, Raige counters with a couple of snippy remarks, and then Piper goes disproportionately apeshit when she sees what Raige has done to the Book of Shadows. Raige's grievous offense? Affixing removable color-coded tabs to each of the Book's pages. You know, red for entries on demons, white for the forces of good, yadda yadda et cetera. Piper howls and shrieks and bitches and my GOD! How many times have you hagged about the damn Book needing a fricking index? Huh? Well, now Raige has done something about it, so SHUT UP ALREADY. "I'm just trying to take point because your life's so busy now," Raige explains, but Piper's having none of it, and right as I'm reaching through the television screen to throttle her ungrateful shrew neck, the cordless rings. It's Phoebe, calling to instruct her bickering siblings to turn on the news so they can catch the frolicking fuckwits in action. She adds that the Nymrods were last seen at "City Plaza." "Maybe they'll go back there," Phoebe suggests. "Well, if they do," Piper snaps, glancing down at her scrying map, "there's gonna be a demon there waiting for them!" Rrrrgh.