After a brief pan across the city to indicate the passage of time, we head over to Andy's, where Prue waits for him in the hallway outside his apartment. He appears toting a sack of groceries, and Prue gets right to the point. "Can you or can you not accept that I'm a witch?" she asks. After a regretful pause, Andy replies, "If I have to answer right now? I don't think so, Prue. I mean, there's nothing wrong with it -- I guess. It's just a future I don't envision having." That was close enough to that Seinfeld catchphrase to elicit a groan from me. Shut up, Andy. A clock within his apartment chimes the hour, and a wave of cluelessness passes across Andy's face. "What were we just talking about?" he wonders. Prue confirms that he can't recall a single thing he said to her in the last twenty-four hours, kisses him gently on his cheek, and dejectedly wanders off down the hall. Once she's rounded the corner, she leans against the wall as glycerin trickles down her cheeks. How in the hell did they rig an invisible glycerin dispenser on Shannen Doherty's face like that? Oh, can it. I refuse to believe she's actually crying.
[72virg=ins]. Piper and Phoebe sit at a table over the remains of the meal they shared with Manky Tanya and process the day's events. The Professional Homosexual interrupts them, ordering Piper back into the kitchen. Get it? He doesn't remember she...oh, fuck it. Piper excuses herself from the table to go scream at Jason Stuart some more.
Back in the kitchen, Piper tells her boss that if he doesn't hire four additional staff members immediately, she's out of there for good. Passive-aggressive bloat that the Professional Homosexual is, he responds to her demands with "What took you so long? All you had to do is ask." Piper twitches, then flings an apron into his face, telling him she'll see him tomorrow; tonight, after all, is her night off.
Piper smacks open the kitchen door, biffing the unfortunate Dolt right in the face. Rewind. Play. Rewind. Play. Rewind. Pause. Slow-forward. Rewind. Play. I could watch that shit all night. Long story short, the Dolt doesn't remember their tryst on the sun porch that afternoon, but has an uneasy feeling he did something of which he should be ashamed. Yeah. You were born. Asshat. Piper assures him he has nothing to worry about, and escorts him to the bar for a cocktail.
Meanwhile, Prue's entered the restaurant and sits at Phoebe's side to relate her tale of Andy woe. Phoebe murmurs, "I'm so sorry," and the two women hug as an ovary warbles us through the final fade to black.