Raige dismisses Buttfuck, promising to call him later, then drags Dead Larry atticwards to abuse the Book of Shadows. Buttfuck shoots a guilty look at Piper before heading out of the house.
Pointless Subplot Number Three. Big Gay Chris and the Dolt scramble around the rocks, hide in a niche from the Tyrannosaurus, discover they can't orb because "magic won't be around until there's people to use it," like, so much for the fucking garden gnomes who make the green grass grow, and emerge to look for the portal once the big, scary computer animation has lumbered away. We learn that Big Gay Chris initially traveled back in time by way of a spell, and that he conjured the portal in an effort to return to the future to see if he succeeded in vanquishing the particular demon who had been threatening The Done One. Other than that, nothing else happens. No, really. No. Really. But my husband does look gorgeous all disheveled and dusty, doesn't he?
Back at the Manor, Piper's appraising Phoebe of Raige's latest transgression via the telephone. While the two agree that they shouldn't "gang up" on Raige, Raige needs to accept the fact that the Glamorous Ladies "have a shared destiny to worry about," and Raige's "Power-of-One kick" is in no way serving said destiny. Phoebe agrees to return to the Manor, and hangs up just as the doorbell rings to further Pointless Subplot Number One. Meanwhile, in Pointless Subplot Number Two, the Limbaugh clone wants to answer a letter from a guy who wants his girlfriend to get implants. Alyssa Milano glances at her own pneumatically enhanced bosom, glowers, and pitches another potion vial at the clone's feet all, "No one shall have tits bigger than me! Do you understand? NO ONE!" The clone flares yellow and morphs into a pig. Wah. Wah. Zzzzzzz! Phoebe locks the animal in her office to leave...
...and we're back in Pointless Subplot Number One. Piper answers the door to find a gentleman of scorchingly hot proportions waiting on the porch, and I suddenly perk up a bit. Go figure. Seriously, though, Robert Farrior is freaking gorgeous -- tall, with blue eyes and dark hair, and a bit scruffy with the two-day beard growth and the white t-shirt and the leather jacket. Whew. Smoking. If Piper can pull talent of this caliber, what the hell was she doing with the fucking Dolt for four and a half years? Anyway, as Piper has Tiny Gay Chris balanced on one of her hips, the baby bomb is rather quickly dropped, but "Brett" reacts to the news with roughly the same amount of delight as Ryan had earlier. Piper tells Brett she needs to reschedule due to unforeseen circumstances, but he's fine with that. Well, he's fine with that until Tiny Chris pulls some more of his freaky face-mojo. We still, by the way, can't see what Tiny Chris is doing to these guys, and I'm holding out hope it's some sort of hideous, slimy Alien monster face with the teeth and such. However, as I'm sure they blew their effects budget for the evening on that worthless Tyrannosaurus, I know it's going to be something far more prosaic, like orbing eyeballs. Whatever it is, Brett takes one look at it and runs, which is really a shame. If there's one thing this show could always use more of, it's fine male ass. Piper, whose attention had been diverted by crashing noises from the attic, turns back in time to note Brett's absence. She tosses a worried glance at Tiny Chris before shutting the door.