Phoebe nods her empty head around all, "SoundsgreatgottajetBYYYEEEEE!" and bolts for the front door. Piper skitters after her with a pathetic offer of the Grand Cherokee for moving purposes and whatnot, and something in the tone of Piper's voice finally gets Phoebe to wonder what gives. "Are you sure you're okay with me moving out?" Phoebe demands. "Yeah! Of course I am!" Piper lies. "I mean...we can't be roommates forever? That's just...weird." Phoebe chooses to ignore Piper's passive-aggressive subtext and scoops up her enormous cardboard box to leave when they're both interrupted by some grumblings from Raige, who just now appears from the kitchen to gripe about the delightful Ivan Sergei. Seems she intends to drop the bitchcraft bomb upon his unsuspecting head that evening during a dinner date, you see, but poor Ivan's been having the worst day possible: He's lost his car keys and his wallet, and he's locked himself out of his apartment. What's a twitchy witch to do? Well, she could start by lasering that dusky black moustache off her upper lip once and for all. Shit's making her look like John Waters in a black chiffon teddy tonight, for Christ's sake. Unfortunately, Raige chooses to ask the Feebs for advice instead, and the advice she receives? "Maybe call in some reinforcements? Maybe ask some of your magical friends to help him have a better day so you can have a better night?" And if you were expecting anything less from The Queen Of Personal Gain here, I have no idea what show you've been watching for the last seven and a half years. Raige quickly cottons to the fact that Phoebe's referring to the Stoopid Magikal Kreatures, and vanishes to enlist their aid. Joy. Once she's gone, poor Piper's forced to beg Phoebe for "one little premonition" to help her with her Doltsicle search. Phoebe reluctantly agrees, slamming her box to the foyer's floor just as...

...Savard slams a book down on a table over at Not!warts, and the expository bickering that follows is neither interesting, entertaining, nor particularly well-written, so I'll pull out the relevant bits: Seems Savard and The Dark Demonic Ps escaped from an entity known as "The Slave King" several years ago, and are now hell-bent on vanquishing their former master. For some reason, this vanquish requires the Power of Three, despite the fact that all upper-level demons were destroyed in advance of the Avatars' Change last season, so shut up, show. The Dark Demonic Ps have not only managed to duplicate the true Glamorous Ladies' base powers, they've also somehow conspired to infuse their own blood with that of the Manor Morons so that those base powers now actually reside in their bodies, or something like that. I so don't care anymore. Especially now that this ass show is roadkill in the wake of the WB's merger with UPN. (Or should that be "this ass show is the fatally mangled dugong in the wake of the WB's merger with UPN"? Maybe I should save that one for Aquaman.) In any event, Savard remains convinced his protégés have yet to twin the Power of Three, and exhorts them to figure out a way to do so, pronto. The Dark Demonic Ps needlessly reminisce about Phoebe's hours in the genie's bottle and the dead-eyed Psycho's terrifying way with a sword for a bit before Phoenix stumbles across a cunning plan: Since the Dolthouse is a magical replica of the actual Manor, and since the Manor "is the witches' power base," if they trap the true Ps in the Dolthouse and occupy the actual Manor themselves, The Dark Demonic Ps "might be able to channel the Power of Three." Um. Yeah. About that whole "power base" thing. Did you assholes not see last season's finale? You know, the bit where they DESTROYED THE NEXUS? What. The Fuck. EVER! I do not care! I do not care at all! La-la-la, I do not care, because this show is so CANCELLED! I love you, Les Moonves! It's true! I do! You can't spell L-O-V-E without la-la-la-la-la-LES MOONVES! La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!