The Last Temptation Of Christy

Episode Report Card
We Don't Need No Water, Let The Bimbo Retard Burn!

Raige and Phoebe enter the Manor foyer from the front porch when we return, already discussing Chrissssty's warning, pedebabbling about Them and who They could possibly be and why They might want Chrissssty back before the Retard arrives in the main hall from above toting Chrissssty's untouched breakfasssst to interrupt the two with, "It doesn't matter, because They won't be getting her back." The three proceed into the kitchen, where Raige suggests they formulate some sort of game plan. "We don't know anything!" the Retard protests. "We don't know where They've been keeping her this whole time!" and yes you DO know where They've been keeping her this whole time because YOU WERE JUST THERE AT THE END OF THE LAST EPISODE, YOU STUPID STUPID AWFUL EVIL INSIPID WRETCHED INEPT INCOMPETENT EXUSE FOR A WOMAN. GOD! DAMMIT! I HATE THIS SHOW! Much annoying babbling follows, during which we return to the main hall with the assembled nitwits as Phoebe and Raige try and fail to convince the Retard to pump her sister for more information. The Bimbo resists, mainly because she believes Chrissssty's under too much pressure as it is, or something, but Phoebe prevails upon her to, at the very least, give it a shot. The Retard rolls her eyes heavenward and concedes, vanishing upstairs. Phoebe pauses for a moment before following her, announcing her intention to "whip up a quick potion" while Raige abuses the Book of Shadows for any and all "telepathic demons," which, you know, are all of them, ever, but whatever, because this evening's next contrived bit of complete and utter stupidity has just announced his arrival in the Manor via his shrieking cloud of orbs. Phoebe and Raige dart their eyes over to the foyer, where they spy a buzzily swirling orb cloud materializing above the carpet. Raige, thinking fast, deploys her orbing telekinesis to send a nearby lamp hurtling at the shape's head, but the gentleman's rapidly solidifying hand manages to snatch the thing out of the air as the camera pans to take in his face, and I swear to God, the first time I saw this, I thought that Slampiece Buttfuck had returned to San Francisco from the Apple Store to annoy us all over again. The actor, it turns out, is not Balthazar Getty, but rather a Balthazar Getty look-alike named Warren Derosa known mainly for co-starring in a straight-to-video Steven Seagal vehicle, and your life has got to suck if you're the poor man's Balthazar Getty known mainly for co-starring in a straight-to-video Steven Seagal vehicle. Oy. In any event, the Getty-alike is a prim, officious pantywaist of a British stereotype who even goes so far as to air-quote the "entrance" part of "Excuse me, ladies, but I don't think you recognized my entrance," and so I hate him already. Imagine a horrid amalgamation of Balthazar Getty's Buttfuck and Gildart Jackson's Snidely, shove that atrocity into a navy blue suit, and you have this "Simon Thaddeus Reginald Maaaaahks" person who is here to take Raige Matthews as his wife. As Raige gapes and goggles at this news, the agonizing howls of the damned hit the soundtrack, and that's far more amusing than it has any right to be, before we cut down to...

...Hell, where tonight's primary dark demonic forces are torturing one of their own, for he was supposed to be guarding Chrissssty at the time she was rescued by The Lispy Bimbo. The guard claims he was called away, but the demon who'd been digging his Chris Of The Spider Woman claw into the guard's chest isn't buying that. Insisting that They could "decimate" the assembled demonic clan "on a whim," the primary torturer spins to exposit needlessly to his fellows, "They chose us to watch over her, to break her down, and in return we'd share in the ultimate power for which she is the key!" I think after fifteen years they'd know that already, dude. But thanks for hurling the tiny remaining audience for this show into a collective Buffy flashback, anyway. Not. Asshole. The primary torturer jaws at tonight's speaking henchdemon for a bit before deciding that the poor guard's become a liability to their cause, or what have you, and, flipping a casual Flaming Ball Of Death at the guy's chest, sends him on his merrily blazing way down to The Waste Land from which he shall never again return. Then again, who knows what this, the wackiest of all wacky final seasons, may bring? "Gather the witch's things," the torturer instructs the henchdemon. "We'll find her another way." "We cannot use dark magic," the henchdemon warns. "They may sense it. They'll know something's gone wrong -- we cannot risk it!" "We have to risk it!" the Torturer seethes. "We must find out who took the witch if we are to survive." Hon. Chill. You know who her parents and her sister are, right? Why don't you, oh, I don't know, start with them? Whatever. The screen flares white to dump us back up on...

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