Previously on Make It Stop! Please Make It Stop!, the Dolt took a test rigged by Elder Q, then plunged from the top of the Golden Gate Bridge to land on his massive yet springy beer gut; Raige hated her job; and Zankou brought an end to the recent Avatar debacle.
Currently on Goddamn It!, the Dolt, with his hand covering Piper's eyes, steers the wife into the nonexistent attic. Once she's in position, he removes his hand with a bright, toothy "Surprise!" and we follow her point of view around the room to realize he's ordered and reorganized the nonexistent room's contents. Piper is less than pleased, for it seems the Dolt's been puttering around the entire Manor rearranging things ever since his "fall from grace," and while she appreciates the effort, she'd rather he leave any potential clean-ups to her. For she is both a martyr and a massive control freak. Or something like that. However, none of this is really all that important. What is important is the huge three-foot-tall dollhouse now occupying the center of the floor, which the Dolt found "under some blankets." The dollhouse is an exact replica of the Manor itself, right down to the many doors and windows of the sun porch, which doesn't exist on the house they've been using for the exteriors for the last seven years. Make of that what you will. And what you will make of it is that this stupid show sucks, and you want to die. Admit it. "I haven't seen [the dollhouse] in years!" Piper sings, wide-eyed as she approaches the thing. Those eyes narrow when she notices a recently added detail, and she frowns, "Is it wet?" "It needed some touch-ups," the Dolt blunders apologetically. "Have you gone crazy again?" Piper demands. The Dolt quite rightly wonders what the hell she means by that. After running through the Dolt's supernatural résumé, Piper adds, "It's just that, if it's magical, you've done it, so it's not going to be easy to adjust to not having powers overnight, and tackling all these...projects is a little obsessive." "What am I supposed to do?" the Dolt protests. Get a freaking job like everybody else on the goddamned planet, you lazy tool. He ignores me, as is his wont, to moan about how useless he feels now that he can no longer orb and heal and consult with ever-useless Elders and whatnot. "I just want to fit in," he pleads. Piper assures him they'll work through his current issues together, and reminds him, "This is what we wanted -- normal." "I guess I didn't expect normal to be so hard," the Dolt glums. Oh, poor you! Put up and shut up, wrinkle boy. Your whining has become tiresome, and we're barely three minutes into the damn episode. Just...just...CRAM IT. "We've got plenty of time," Piper soothingly counters above my screams of rage, gifting him with a warm and reassuring smile before moving in for an embrace while a rather large, bald, leatherbound gent flares into the nonexistent room over by the door, whereupon he whips a boomerang-shaped dagger in the Manor Morons' direction. The Dolt violently shoves Piper to the floor just as the boomerang slices a shallow gash on his forearm. The weapon continues arcing around the Dolt as Piper pushes herself to her knees to deploy the mighty Hands Of Discontent. Unfortunately for her, the invader flares out almost instantly, and so the Hands' mojo ends up demolishing a low set of shelves full of priceless first editions. Meanwhile, the boomerang's embedded itself in the attic door. "Still think we've got plenty of time?" the Dolt snips, clutching at his injured arm. Piper's all, "Mr. Pissypants? Yeah, over here. I'd advise you to be mindful of the fact that you can no longer reconstitute yourself when I unleash these Hands of mine upon your massive ass, so you might want to watch it there with the mouthy sarcasm, Monkey Boy." Only she's much more non-verbal about it than I was.
Down in the Underworld, the leatherbound invader, scowling, flares into a darkened chamber. Standing in the far shadows awaiting his arrival is none other than your favorite dark demonic force sent from the flaming maw of Hell and mine, Zankou. How can I tell it's Zankou, even though the far figure is nothing more than a black outline? Easy. Oded Fehr, for some reason, always stands with his feet spread far apart and his pelvis jutting forward in rather a lewd manner. It makes for a distinctive silhouette. Whether it's a character choice, or if he's always like that, well, you'll have to ask him. "Did you wound him?" Zankou breathes. "Just as you instructed," the henchdemon replies. "Good," Zankou croons as he strides slowly into the dim light to flash his dazzling set of choppers in a sly smile for a moment, before vanishing into the opening credits. DUN!