Opening Travelogue, avec Testicle and jittery cable cars. There's also a terrific time-lapse shot of the sunlight gradually illuminating the fog that envelops the Golden Gate Bridge, with super-speed morning traffic whizzing across the span. Over at the Manor, Phoebe bubbles into the kitchen to greet Piper and Tiny Gay Chris with an ebullient "Good morning!" before the two ladies establish Pointless Subplots Numbers One and Two for the evening. Pointless Subplot Number One involves Piper dating again. Pointless Subplot Number Two involves Elise Rothman, Girl Editor stealing the Limbaughian Spencer Ricks away from All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me's competition to work with Phoebe. Piper's lined up three dates in a row, and intends to introduce the gentlemen to Tiny Chris immediately to gauge their reaction to her child. Phoebe's lined up several bottles of the potion she used on Ricks last season, in case he gets mouthy. And that's pretty much all you need to know. Quite honestly, given how little everyone has to do tonight, the producers could have granted the entire cast with the exception of Rose McGowan a vacation this week, and the episode wouldn't have suffered one bit from their collective absence.
Whatever. It's time for Rose to earn her paycheck as Raige glumly drags in through the back door and silently passes through the kitchen on her way upstairs. Instantly detecting their sister's foul mood, Phoebe and Piper chase after her, stopping her by the stairs. Raige fills them in on Dead Larry's untimely demise. Piper and Phoebe make sad faces before attempting to console her with the argument that sometimes, innocents die, and there's nothing the Glamorous Ladies can do about it. Raige isn't having it, however, and angrily marches upstairs to wash up, or something. I mean, she has been up all night after putting in rather a hellish day at the job, so I'm certain a shower's in order, you know? Piper and Phoebe exchange Looks Fraught With Concern and sigh.
And look! It's time for Pointless Subplot Number Three! The Dolt strides through a cluttered alleyway and presses his palms against a wall. As his hand passes through the brick surface, the portal he's found flashes white and violently disgorges his rather fetching big gay son, who knocks the Dolt backwards onto the asphalt. The boys hiss and scratch at each other for a bit as they scramble to their feet before the Dolt demands, "What's that?" while nodding his head towards the wall. "Nothing," Big Chris shrugs casually. The Dolt grabs his son's arm and forces Big Chris's head into the portal. After a bit of a struggle, Big Chris pops back out with a medieval helmet obscuring his face. Long story short, Big Chris has opened the portal for reasons he'd like to keep to himself, so the idiot Dolt stupidly latches onto his son and propels both Big Chris and himself through the shimmering doorway. Even though said doorway obviously contains more than a few tricks for which the boys are woefully unprepared. In other words: The Dolt's a fuckwit. Though even this realization does nothing to counter the numbing boredom brought about by this evening's proceedings, because we already knew that. Jesus.