Cole darts through the parlor, sniffing at the air like he's Renfield or something as Raige, Piper, and the Dolt trail behind him from the sun porch. "Did they follow me?" Cole whimpers. The Dolt helpfully instructs Cole to sit for a moment. Cole immediately spins on his heel and hurls a Flaming Ball Of Death at the Dolt's head. Snicker. The Dolt snipers to the floor, allowing the FBOD to plow harmlessly into the wall. "What are you doing?" Piper howls. Cole advances on her, paranoia oozing from his pores. "You're with him, aren't you?" he babbles, conjuring another FBOD in the palm of his hand. Raige, ever the practical spitfire, slams her hands into his shoulder, knocking him out of his hallucinatory fantasy. "What is wrong with you?" she snots. Cole wipes at his eyes, apologizing profusely and hoping he didn't injure anyone. "You could have," mopes the Dolt as Piper helps him to his feet. "You're lucky I'm already dead." Oh, stow it, prissypants. That Flaming Ball Of Death didn't come anywhere near you. Tool. Cole collapses into an overstuffed armchair and wails that his hallucinations are getting worse. Up until his appearance in the Manor, every battle he fought was entirely in his head. Well, except for that one with your soon-to-be-ex-secretary, but who's counting? Now, he's activating his Wicked Waste Land Mojo against those his addled brain believes are demonic. "Someone's messing with me somehow," he gasps. The Glamorous Ladies must help him before he actually hurts somebody! Piper, Raige, and the Dolt exchange Looks Of Concern.

P3, and the scene I've been dreading for weeks. Phoebe, working those Satanic shellacked bangs of hers while lounging on a sofa, grins as Ken Marino squirms through the gyrating crowd on the dance floor with a couple of cocktails. Many of you will remember Mr. Marino from his days as the inappropriate professor on Dawson’s Creek. No, not the inappropriate Media Studies professor -- the inappropriate English professor. No, not Flip-Flops. Sigh. The inappropriate English professor from last season. The one Joey was going to bone the night she met The Bantering Bandit? Yeah. That one. Anyway, I'll let you in on a little secret: I hate Ken Marino. Hate. Him. And do you want to know why? He looks like Gonzo from The Muppet Show. No, seriously! The glazed, glassy eyes plus the beaky nose, along with the nonexistent jawline and chin, equals Gonzo. Terribly lookist, I realize, and I should be deeply ashamed of myself. Which I'm certain I would be, if I gave a rat's ass about Mr. Marino or his career. I've actually been wanting him to disappear since his days on The State, and that was a show I enjoyed. Now, you toss Gonzo here onto Charmed as a love interest for the Feebs? I'm going to pop an aneurysm, I swear to God. And while I'm busy not recapping what is certain to be a stroke-inducing love scene between Phoebe and Gonzo, I might as well hammer out a quick note to Phoebe. Dear Feebs: I realize you've had that whole chop-socky thing going for a good four years now, but that's no reason to abuse the anabolic steroids. Put those wide-bore needles down before you grow a beard, okay? I criticize because I care! Kisses, Demian.