Melinda Warren, blood of our blood,
We summon thee!
Actually, in the interest of anal-retentive recapping, Phoebe and Prue give it a mere six "greats." Piper slipped in the seventh, and judging from my own family tree, she should have knocked in an eighth or a ninth to get them back to the late 1600s. Whatever. It worked. A Swirling Cloud Of Glowing Golf Balls (the first! I think) materializes over the landing by the window, followed presently by Melinda herself. She swallows a great big refreshing gulp of stale attic air and beams, "Oh, blessed be." I hate her already.
Back from the break, Phoebe's kitting out Melinda in some of her own cast-offs to give Melinda a fresh, contemporary look for her stay in San Francisco and oh, Lord. Here they go with the anachronism humor. Phoebe yanks at the zipper of a modest, dark-colored sleeveless dress, eliciting a howl of protest from Melinda. "Don't rip the dress to make it fit me!" Phoebe explains the whole zipper concept to Melinda. "Oh-ho!" oh-hos Melinda as she fiddles gleefully with the thing. "A wise witch made this." Shut up, Melinda. She doesn't listen to me. I'll transcribe the ensuing dress chatter directly for you. Trust me, it's far less painful this way:
Melinda: What sheep has wool so soft?
Phoebe: A synthetic one.
Melinda: Oh. Did it take you long to make the dress?
Phoebe: Make it? No -- I bought it.
Melinda: You must be rich.
Thump! Be more funny! Prue and Piper enter to compliment Melinda on her new look. Melinda idly wonders how modern gals keep their legs warm. "We drink coffee," Prue replies. Thump! Be more funny! And oh, thank God -- here comes the Dolt.
Whoa. Did I just say, "Thank God -- here comes the Dolt"? Shoot me. Now.
The Dolt bumbles into Phoebe's room unannounced, then immediately apologizes for barging in. Idiot. Phoebe introduces Melinda as their cousin. Piper tells Melinda that the Dolt's there to upgrade the Manor's plumbing. Melinda doesn't know what plumbing is. And I'm getting a migraine. I'll not be transcribing any more of these "gags," okay, because they make no sense. Melinda didn't slip into some alternate universe after she died -- she was a ghost, for Christ's sake. As such, she would have become familiar with recent and not-so-recent technological developments, right? Whatever. She's not familiar with them, so just assume that whenever Melinda encounters something novel from here on out, she says something stupid. She is a blonde, after all, so I guess that works. Melinda does attempt to cover for her ignorance by stammering, "To work with one's hands is a great gift." The Dolt's response? A breezy "Well, 'I am a true laborer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear.'" "'Owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness,'" Melinda replies with delight. I'll give Melinda a pass on knowing Shakespeare, but the Dolt? No way. He can't even read, can he? The Ps plus Melinda book on out of there as the Dolt smiles gently at their retreating forms. Shut up, Dolt.