Lord Hoover bursts into the center of the circle of candles, blasting the immediate area with a light spray of grey dust. Piper deploys the Hands Of Discontent, but they merely knock Hoover back into a chair. "Um, why didn't he explode?" Phoebe panics, like, what was that shit about letting history take care of him if you were going to vanquish him right there in the office? Stupid, stupid show! "Chanting!" Piper snappishly orders, ignoring me, "Chanting!" Raige, idiot that she is, hastily pulls a piece of paper from, where? Her panties? She's wearing a dress with no pockets. Anyway, that spell she recited from memory a couple of scenes ago? She needs to read it now, and I don't know why, but whatever:

From lands afar in time and space,
Take them now from this our place.
Two that dwell so must remain:
Send them back to their domain.

Guess all those plurals really fucked with her head. Hoover dissolves into a spray of black ash as Godiva disappears in a wash of twinkly light. The two separate clouds of mojo stream back into the illustration in the history book, but the instant they're gone, the candles gutter and all of the lights in Not!warts go out. Ooops. "Uh-oh," Raige guhs from the depths of the inky blackness. "That's not good." Yeah, what I said. Piper relights one of the candles as she ignores the obvious by blithely stating, "Well, at least they're gone." Phoebe bums an orb over to All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me, leading to more babbling from the three regarding that sabbatical subplot I don't care about. Raige places her hand on her sisters' shoulders and orbs them all out.

All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. Phoebe offers a breezy thanks before heading through the swinging glass doors to discover that all of the women in the office are now clad in ankle-length grey dresses with concealing grey jackets and matching head scarves. "Looks like everyone took Elise's sexual harassment memo literally," Phoebe guhs as Piper and Raige peer into the room warily over Phoebe's shoulder. Sparklies appears in the door of Phoebe's once and future office to deliver quite badly the following lines: "Phoebe? What are you doing here? And what are you wearing? Who's watching our children? Why aren't you at home with them?" Go stuff yourself, Nick Lachey. Phoebe hoots and yodels as Piper and Raige yank her backward through the doors into the hallway. "What the hell is going on?" Phoebe grunts. A really, really shitty rip-off of A Handmaid's Tale from the looks of things, Feebs. But then, you don't read, do you? Piper, wide-eyed, breathes, "I think I know" as she approaches something hanging on the wall. The camera pans to reveal a black-and-white ad for the "Ask [Sparklies]" column, which features a tagline of "He'll Tell You How To Handle Your Women." Raige plants her fists on her hips and peeves, "I told you we should have waited for [the Dolt]." "Shut up!" Piper yowls as the gals vanish into the commercial break. If only they would, Piper. If only they would.