I call to thee, pure witch's fire --
Through vortex flow the heavenly mire:
Cleanse brackish karma of debris,
From dark to light, sweep history.
The five candles spew gouts of flame three feet into the air as the shot abruptly cuts to a view of the earth from outer space. White wisps of the cosmic order with which Buttfuck's heedlessly screwing erupt from various locations around the world and writhe around the planet before diving down towards the West Coast, which shoots towards the camera in what has to be the best effects shot this show has ever seen. As the camera flies down towards the Bay Area, the Presidio looms into view at the top of the screen. The karmic wisps shoot straight down to the Manor -- which for the purposes of this sequence rests on a block of Washington Street between Walnut and Presidio -- and the camera cuts at the last second to an overhead of Buttfuck gaping up at the rapidly approaching swirl. The karmic plasma corkscrews down to his head, then widens to form a rapidly spinning, ethereal sphere around his body while the pentacle of candles flames higher.
Meanwhile, Phoebe enters the shadowy Manor through the front door and places her handbag and coat on the entry table.
Up in the attic, the plasma swirls around Buttfuck for a bit, then dives down through the floor.
Down in the hall, the plasma streams through the ceiling and plunges into the Fun Bags, hurling Phoebe into a post-monition. A World War One-era French infantry brigade readies, aims, and fires as a disembodied female voice screams at them in tones of defiance mixed with panic. When the shots ring out in the post-monition, we cut back to the Manor, where Phoebe absorbs the blast of the phantom bullets and hurtles violently backwards through the air to smash a vase halfway down the hall with her ass before sliding on said ass along the floor to the dining room doorway. Phoebe clutches at her unharmed stomach for a moment before darting her eyes around and wondering aloud, "Qu'est-que c'est?" D'oh!