ANY-way, a security guard approaches Raige, demanding identification. She pulls out her North Shore employee card to discover Moron's photo where hers should be. The security guard glares and yanks her out of the frame.
And in the very next shot, the three titular blondes enter the Manor through the front doors, which would only make sense if Moron genetically engineered her own identical twin, implanted said identical twin's embryo in a surrogate mother, waited nine months for the delivery, waited another twenty-nine years for the twin to reach the appropriate age, and deployed the twin to lead the action at the packing plant SINCE THE LAST COMMERCIAL BREAK. THIS SHOW SUCKS!
The Mimbos split up to search for the Book, but Big Interrupting Chris calls out from the parlor, busting them for his recent "wild goose chase" through the astral plane. Mange silently conjures a dagger behind her back to slice him, like, knives don't kill Whitelighters, shithead, and do something about those fucking roots before I reach into the television set and rip your hideous fucking hair out of your hideous fucking head, but whatever. She wordlessly dissolves the dagger the instant Big Self-Effacing Chris defuses the situation by admitting that perhaps he has been working them too hard. Or something. This episode, iffy to begin with, has suddenly veered straight into The Sucking Vortex Of Massive And Eternal Badness, and I find myself not really caring what happens to any of these goddamned idiots anymore. Midge hooches over to nuzzle her girl cooties into Big Revolted Chris's chest. Big Bursting-With-Contempt Chris pushes her away to snort, "I know Piper hooked up with her last Whitelighter, but I'm really -- really -- not interested. 'Kay?" We're meant to interpret this as yet another indication that he's The Done One all growed up, and yet we insist on interpreting this as yet another indication that he has sex with men. Big Get-Me-The-Hell-Out-Of-Here Chris agrees to leave them alone to investigate the death of a salesman over at Manse Morphing, and orbs out. The titular blondes scatter to search for the Book after Mange issues this stern edict: "From now on? Keep your hands off the Whitelighter. That's an order." See? Even Mange knows he's gay. What's Midge's problem?
Montage Of Booting. Then, after I've finished violently expelling several vital organs through my nose and mouth in a series of cleverly intercut shots, we return to this evening's episode for the following: