The Jung And The Restless

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The Three Stigmata Of Chrissssty Retard

Previously on CANCELLED!, it wassss raining outsssside the night the Retard'ssss ssssisssster wassss taken; Stoop introduced himself to the Feebs, started yammering about her stupid love life, and hasn't shut up since; Ssssecretly Evil Ssssecretly Evil Chrissssty launched a crusade to convince her maggoty-necked retard of a sister that the Charmed Ones are, to a glamorous lady, selfish bitches, after her attempt to banish Pator provoked The Mighty Wrath Of Piper; The Ultimate Retard broke up with the Manor Morons to join her sister in the Underworld, where they held hands and thought real hard for a minute and vanquished the unvanquishable; and the Ps finally -- finally -- realized that something's not quite right at Chez Retard.

Currently on CANCELLED!, we fade up on the sunny exterior of the Manor before heading inside to the dining room, where we run into a rather dark conversation already in progress. Well, it would be dark, I suppose, if Phoebe weren't being such blithering idiot about the whole Retard situation. Piper, it seems, is inclined to agree with me, for when Phoebe blurts that even though the Jenkins Sisters vanquished the unvanquishable, it doesn't necessarily follow that they're evil, Piper snorts, "Don't be so naïve -- [Ssssecretly Evil Chrissssty] was raised by The Triad, who wanted us dead, remember?" Phoebe argues that even though Chrissssty spent fifteen years training beneath a group of upper-level demons who have been plotting the bloody downfall of the Glamorous Ladies for decades, she and her retard of a sister are still good people, and oh, my God, Phoebe's a fucking moron. Raige orbs in at some point, takes a quick moment to gauge the tension in the room, and immediately sets to mediate the bickering that continues. Or, rather, she would mediate the bickering that continues if tonight's primary typewriting crackmonkey hadn't burdened these actresses with what seems like eighteen minutes of entirely unnecessary expository blather about Piper's gigantic Doltsicle of a husband, Phoebe's still-vacant uterus, and Raige's neverending attempts to find balance in her life, or whatever. Yaaaawn. Just then, Raige's new charge rings her Whitelightery bell, and I will be taking bets on the time of this new charge's "Mikelle," you see, is yet another Whitelighter-to-be with a characteristic penchant for frequently finding herself in untenable situations, so with Raige as her guardian, she's pretty much guaranteed to end up a broken and battered corpse by the end of the hour. Raige orbs out almost as quickly as she orbed in, leaving the still-simmering Piper to glare at the Feebs for a lengthy period of time before she heads up towards the nonexistent attic to whip up an anti-Retard potion of some sort. "I don't think I'm ready for this!" whines the Feebs. "Better get ready, you dimwitted hag," Piper grunts, never once looking back and with, perhaps, fewer words than I just used there. Phoebe heaves a tremendously put-upon sigh. Shut up, Phoebe.

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