That '70s Episode

Episode Report Card
Demian: B+ | 1 USERS: A+
That Plot Hole Episode

SunMoonStar is the Roy Scheider to my Richard Dreyfuss, scoring a last-minute direct hit on the air tank in the shark's mouth with her first-season videocassettes just before I lose a piece of my whiny, talent-free ass in the beastie's teeth. Though if this Jaws reference appeared before the recap of "The Wedding From Hell," SunMoonStar would be the Mourning Amity Mom who socks my Roy Scheider in the mouth with those same videocassettes out of spite. God, that episode sucked.

The evening opens with Prue and Phoebe perusing old photo albums on the Manor sun porch. We learn that Prue was quite the camera whore as a child, but the real story here is that Phoebe can't remember their mother, because Phoebe was a mere tot when Patty "Teeth!" Halliwell took The Swim That Needs No Towel. Piper flutters into the room, desperately searching for a pen and some paper. She scratches at what she calls "the candy drawer" in a marble-topped desk off to the side, but the drawer refuses to budge. Phoebe rises from her chair, bangs on the desktop twice, then rams her knee against the side of the thing. The drawer immediately pops open, clocking Foreshadowing in the jaw. No, I don't know what he was doing crawling around the sun porch on his hands and knees like that, but I'm sure he'll think twice before pulling similar stunts in the future. Piper exposits that she intends to leave a "Dear John: She's Dead" note for some "secret admirer" of Grams's, a gentleman caller who arrives on the same day every year bearing a bouquet of flowers. Piper's too much of a wimp to give him the bad news personally, you see. Unfortunately for Piper, the Cleansing Burst Of Synchronicity beats her to the punch by ringing the doorbell at that very moment to usher the gentleman caller in question through the front door. The ladies of the Manor cross to the foyer to greet him.

The gentleman caller, who bears a disturbing resemblance to Armistead Maupin, cradles a vase swathed in pink tissue and crammed with yellow roses. He's also at least a foot and a half taller than the tallest of the Ps and as broad as all three of them lashed together, making me wonder why the gals are so nonchalant about allowing him into the house. As the grandfather clock in the parlor chimes the hour, the gentleman caller extends the vase towards Piper, clumsily dropping it towards the floor in the process. Piper shrieks and freaks and freezes him. "Every. Year!" Piper yowls, plucking the vase from the air as the clock continues to chime. "At least this year I can freeze him so I can spare myself the clean-up." Yeah, like he's not going to notice any of that, you scatterbrained dingbat. Proving my point, the gentleman caller slides out of his freeze to purr, "I only heard five chimes." "It's noon," he continues. "That means you froze me, which means you have your powers at last." It could also mean the damned clock's on the fritz again, but whatever -- the gentleman caller advances menacingly as Piper, wielding the fluffy pink vase like a club, warily backs into her sisters' arms, babbling all the while that she hasn't a clue what he's talking about and ordering him to leave. The gentleman caller ignores her, choosing instead to slide a ring onto his finger while he slides his tongue into the exposition's ear. "Call me Nicholas," he slithers as his aged Armistead face morphs into a younger Rutger Hauer face. "After all, your mother did." On this very date twenty-four years earlier, he tells them, Patty "blessed" his ring in exchange for her life. Nazi Nicky's now immune to the Glamorous Ladies' powers and may steal those powers for himself, becoming "invincible" in the process. In a bit of business that should not amuse me at all, Prue squints repeatedly at Nicky to test his claim. Heh. Nicky does not hurtle backwards through the hall, nor does he refreeze when Piper again flings out her hands. Phoebe's paralyzed by something approximating fear, and stands mutely by while her sisters exhaust themselves with all the squinting and flinging. Finally, Nicky extends his beringed fist in their direction and helpfully narrates that his demonic mojo is overheating their internal organs, as the Glamorous Ladies drop to the carpet one by one to flop about like asphyxiating guppies. Phoebe somehow manages to boot the back of Nicky's knee, and he comes crashing to the floor, temporarily halting the supernatural organ roast. The gals scamper up the stairs to the attic.

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