[72virg=ins]. Andy's in the process of being stood up by Prue yet again. Piper apologizes on her sister's behalf, but Andy's over it and storms out of there after flinging down a couple of bucks for his coffee.
House Of Aviva. Prue wanders through the snot-nosed miscarriage's bedroom to find the candles and the idol stowed away in the closet. For the briefest of moments, Kali flares up in the mirror behind her. Prue turns, but sees nothing save her own reflection. She does spy Aviva's diary protruding from beneath the bed, however, and picks it up to open to the most recent entry. "Kali says we're close to taking over the Halliwell Coven," it reads. "I hate lying to them." Prue. Wigs. She punches the Manor's number into her cell and, upon reaching Phoebe, orders her to get Piper back to the house for a summit immediately. "And whatever you do," she adds, "do not let Aviva out of your sight, okay?"
So what does Phoebe do? She sends Aviva upstairs to bed, because Aviva says her tummy hurts. Bonehead.
Once upstairs, Aviva retrieves her backpack from Phoebe's room, then silently crosses the hall to Prue's room.
Down in the main hallway, the Dolt examines his handiwork for errors as Phoebe sorts through the mail. He announces that he's pretty much finished, but he'll stop by the following afternoon to make sure everyone's happy with the job he's done. Phoebe awws and says she's sorry to see him go. Awkward pause. "What?" Phoebe asks. "Uhhnnh," derrs the Dolt. "Just out of curiosity," he finally begins, "are you and Aviva...? Uh, I mean, Piper said that --" "Piper said what?" Phoebe spits. "Uh, nothing," he replies, bobbling his head around like a heavily-stoned Valley Girl while shrugging his shoulders. "I think I need to, uh, wash my hands." Ew! But also: Heh! Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have a first. The Dolt -- the Dolt -- made me snicker.
Lair Of The Prueminator. Aviva lights her candles and sighs.
Kitchen. Phoebe trails the Dolt over to the sink, demanding to know what Piper said about her. The Dolt waves his hands around dismissively. Phoebe gets a glint of realization in her eyes and warns him to take whatever Piper tells him with a grain of salt, because sometimes her "medications" make her say silly things. "Don't worry, though," she adds. "Her shrinks are on it." Should I? I should: Shut up, Phoebe. And shoot Aaron Spelling in the head while you're at it. See above and connect the dots for a reason why, and don't bother with the stroppy emails decrying my lack of sensitivity for the psychologically disadvantaged. Piper telling the Dolt that Phoebe's a lesbian? Fine by me. Questionable tactic, certainly, but not beyond the pale. Phoebe retaliating by claiming Piper's psychotic, as if the two were in any way equivalent? Uh-uh. No way. Go to hell, Phoebe, and be sure to take Aaron Spelling and Brad Kern with you. Connie Burge can stay. For now. Phoebe snickers at her own audacity, then notices Aviva's jacket on one of the chairs. She picks it up, and is flung into a premonition. Prue enters her bedroom to find Aviva kneeling on the floor. Aviva hurls a fireball -- in color, no less -- at Prue's head. Phoebe comes to and gasps in horror. As the Dolt notes that Prue's arrived home, Phoebe whips around to race up the stairs.