Manor kitchen. Fade in on a fork, lying on the table next to some Pier 1 dinnerware. Pan up to Prue, trying unsuccessfully to TK the fork to the floor. After a couple of wrist flicks with no effect, she tries to fake the fork out, pretending to ignore it. Wrist flick. Nothing. I can tell already this episode is going to be a classic. In clomps Phoebe, struggling with the straps of the beige scarf top she's wearing. Said top is decorated with an array of brown feathered roach clips. I am not making this up. "Look at me," she pouts. "I am a fashion blunder. A 'Mademoiselle Don't.'" It's a "Glamour Don't," sweetpea, but otherwise I agree completely with that statement. Prue ignores her, concentrating instead on the fork. Phoebe, noticing the ineffectual wrist-flicks, asks if Prue's lost her powers. "Can't lose what you never had," Prue replies, and we discover that Powerless Prue has been astrally-projected into the kitchen by the real Prue in the attic. "I hate when she plays astral games," Phoebe grumps, and stomps up to the attic, still fidgeting with the straps on her top. Number one, Phoebe, if that's all you hate her for, you're not trying hard enough, and number two, just change into a normal goddamn shirt already. I know you have at least one.
Attic. Prue's curled up in a floral-upholstered wingback chair, perusing a book entitled Telekinesis. She tells Phoebe she's been attempting to train herself to use telekinesis in conjunction with astral projection since she did a little more research into Belthazor, who, as we know, is the biggest, meanest, nastiest demon ever. Phoebe cracks wise about Belthazor's hideous skin and mutters, "I would hate to find myself alone with this guy." But isn't she dating Cole? And isn't Cole really Belthazor? Oh, that's right: yes, and yes. Not only do I. Fucking. Get it already, I think my mother, who wouldn't touch the crap on the WB network with a bargepole, also. Fucking. Gets it already. So, shut up about it. Now.
Anyway, Phoebe flops into a wicker chair next to Prue and announces that she has a date with the demon. Prue notes that she doesn't seem too happy about it, and Phoebe snits that it's a lunch date. Since she and Cole have been macking loudly and publicly for a week now, Phoebe thinks she's entitled to a candlelit dinner at the very least. Prue starts to respond, but is cut short by a sudden pain from one of her molars. Dentist-appointment-in-an-hour chatter. Phoebe tells Prue to make sure she keeps the appointment, as Phoebe hates to see her sister miserable. Prue remarks that she hates to see herself miserable, and stands to leave the attic as Phoebe leans in to study the entry for Belthazor in the Book of Shadows. Gee, I hope for their sakes that Prue doesn't end up in the basement by the end of this episode, rocking back and forth in empathic pain while leaving tooth marks all over the scenery in Shannen Doherty's latest attempt to snag that ever-elusive Emmy nomination, like all of the previews for this episode have promised, because that would suck, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it? Oh, forget it.