Charmed
Repo Manor

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Demian: C- | Grade It Now!
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The Freaky Importance of Scrying Hard for the Power of Three Non-Blondes

Suicide Boudoir, where the windows have popped their frames to splatter themselves on the pavement far below. The planchette on the Ouija board skitters a bit, and the Retard looks up in time to follow along out loud as the thing points out "D-O-L-[T]-H-O-U-S-E." "Chrissssssty?" hisses the Retard. I told you the stupid bitch wouldn't know how to spell.

Nonexistent Attic. The lispy Retard waddles her maggot neck into the nonexistent room to spit out excited noises regarding what the Ouija board just did. The Fake Ps, initially, are politely dismissive, but when the Bimbo persists, what follows is awesome. Fauxbe slams a wooden spoon down and slowly approaches the Retard to condescend, "I do believe my sister just asked you to leave." "Are you dense?" Rattrap adds. "We really don't have time for your crap right now." "Thissss issss a joke, right?" the Retard splutters. "Do we look like we're joking?" Piplar ices. "Did anyone [aside from Demian, Keckler, Sars, and everyone on the boards] ever tell you what a giant pain in the ass you are?" Raige sneers. Fauxbe roughly shoves the Retard to the floor as Piplar shakes her head, all, "I don't know why we keep you around." Hooray! "Get rid of her," Fauxbe snaps, turning her back on the maggoty mess on the floor. "Gladly," purrs Rattrap, who employs her orbing telekinesis with a casual flick of her wrist to send the Retard's oddly proportioned ass onto the front porch. "That was fun!" Rattrap breezes. Oh, my. You have no idea. That was the best fucking minute and a half of the entire goddamned season, ladies. Brava. Bravissima. Fauxbe, Piplar, and Rattrap morph back into their demonic forms, gather up the vanquishing vials, and dematerialize from the nonexistent room.

Down in Hell, a pig roasts on a spit (what?) as the camera pans past it to trail The Dark Demonic Ps as they insouciantly amble into The Slave King's headquarters. Since I refuse to care about characters they don't even bother to introduce until the forty-five-minute mark, long story short: Potions? Meet demon. Demon? Go boom. Scene.

Back at the Dolthouse, Piper's emerged onto the little balcony above the front porch, while Phoebe and Raige peer up at her from the parlor's bay window below. "Just out of curiosity," Piper calls down, "if this doesn't work, what's Plan B?" "This is Plan B," Phoebe shouts back. "[Retard] was Plan A." "Remind me to evict her if we get out of this," Piper snarks. I shall endeavor to write that upon my pad, Piper. What follows is a vanquishing sequence that's far too complicated, but still sort of fun to watch. Basically, Raige telekinetically orbs a tiny shard of rock incrementally along the cavern's dirt floor until it's more or less in the position they want. Piper then gets Savard's attention and draws him over to the Dolthouse, where he bends down to push his massive gob into her tiny grille with, "What do you want?" "You!" Piper perks, deploying her miniaturized Hands Of Discontent. The resulting explosion, though small, is enough to knock Savard backwards onto the floor, where -- get this -- he inadvertently impales his skull on the tiny shard of rock. That's got to be one of the most grotesque and graphic vanquishes they've had in a very long time. There was even a little slurpy sound when the rock dug into his brain. Hee! Piper races downstairs to rejoin her sisters in the parlor, but whatever celebration she was about to launch into is cut short by the arrival of The Dark Demonic Ps, who loudly wonder what happened to Savard before turning to glare at the wee Ps in the Dolthouse window. The camera, which had been giving us The Dark Demonic Ps' point of view of the Dolthouse façade, suddenly races towards the tiny parlor window and into the final commercial break.

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Charmed

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