Buckland's. Hannah and the Wimp bemoan their latest failure, worrying what "He" will do to them once "He's" learned that the Glamorous Ladies continue to roam the earth. "We should have done it ourselves!" Hannah bleats. "You're right," agrees the Wimp. "We should have." He grabs her by the hair. Um...DUN? I think that's a DUN.
Andy's House Of Beef, formerly The Loneliest Precinct House In The World. Andy and Darryl get up in each other's grill over Andy's vow to rouse a judge in the middle of the night to obtain an arrest warrant for Prue. Because she stole a goddamned feather. Yeah. Not gonna fly, toots. So to speak. Ow. I'm sorry. That hurt even me. Darryl warns Andy to let it go. Andy pouts, and rather adorably at that.
Manor, the following morning. The Dolt wanders through the front hallway as Piper flings herself down the stairs in one of her patented, barely-suppressed, Wiccan-related spastic fits of panic. She splutters that she's sorry, but the gals have to see their "cousin" off, so could the Dolt come back to futz around in the downstairs bathroom tomorrow? He can, and turns to leave. She stops him, hesitates, then asks him out on a date. The Dolt grins, telling her he'd love to join her for an evening on the town. Piper looks terribly pleased with herself.
Up in the attic, Piper rejoins her sisters and Melinda around that low table. Needless to say, none of the gals wants Melinda to leave, but Melinda's all, "Whatever, you bitches. I'm gone." You think I'm kidding? That's pretty much what her little speech boils down to: The present is not her time, but rather that of her great-whatever-daughters, so, you know, she's hitting the road. The Feebs takes Melinda's hand and asks for a premonition of the Glamorous Ladies' future. Melinda sees generations of her descendants stretching out across the coming centuries. Way to be vague, nitwit. Melinda carefully fastens the Fabio locket around her neck, and the four women clasp hands. Prue, leveling her gaze kindly at Melinda, intones, "Melinda Warren, blood of our blood, we release you." The Swirling Cloud Of Glowing Golf Balls engulfs Melinda as she beams, "Blessed be, my daughters." Oh, cram it, Granola Queen. The evening ends with the glum gals glancing wistfully at each other. "We can always bring her back," Prue grins. Yeah. And you call me when the shuttle lands, sweetheart.
Did that seem short to you? It should. Start to finish, including commercials, this episode ran fifty-five minutes. I wonder what they cut out.