Phoebe returns to the Manor, toting a cut-glass vase heavy with long-stemmed red roses. From Chronic, of course, because it's always appropriate to send red roses after you've spent the night schtupping a menstruating employee in bout after bout of sleazy hotel sex. No, I can't believe I went there, either, and yes, I want to die. Moving on. The Feebs gets the unnecessarily bitchy skinny on recent events from Piper and Raige as the Dolt wrestles with Anorexia and Bulimia on the sun porch. After a bit of this, The Doltine Cracker wails from above. The Dolt dolts off to tend to the infant, leaving the Nymrods in the Glamorous Ladies' care. Anorexia and Bulimia sense the tension in the air, decide Raige needs an injection of flair in her life, and proceed to invade her personal space. We've seen demonic versions of this storyline at least three times in the past, right? So we all know where this is going? Good. Piper heads off to the attic for another round of Book abuse. Bulimia leers at Raige. Scene.
Somewhere else, my new brother-in-law tends to my husband's mangled arm stump. BIL's been practicing with the vanquished pansy's pan flute, and promises Xavy he'll convince the Nymrods that he's their new Seder so they'll lead him to the eternal spring, and BIL and my husband can live forever and ever. Scene.
Yeah, yeah. "Satyr." Like I care.
Manor. Attic. Piper. STILL BITCHING ABOUT THE GODDAMNED BOOK. Fast-forward. Fast-forward. I hope that Aboriginal Bunyip Demon isn't vital to tonight's plot. Aboriginal Bunyip Demon? What? Exactly. Happy Easter! Fast-forward. Fast-forward. Oh, look! It's the Dolt. He's arrived to lay a little "reverse psychology" on the Shrew's undeserving derriere. He sits her down on one of the attic couches and patiently explains that the Shrew should embrace Raige's enthusiasm for the Craft as an opportunity. The Shrew can now establish a bit of the "normal life" she's constantly moaning about not having while relying upon Raige to pick up the slack. "You're supposed to be on my side!" snits the Shrew. Rather than backhanding her ungrateful ass across the room, the Dolt simply smiles and assures her that he is, indeed, with her on this one.