Cut to Chronic, moping in his office at All The News That's Fit To Fuck Me. Slampiece Buttfuck raps on the door, looking for the Feebs. Chronic attempts to commiserate with Buttfuck over their witchy girlfriends, but the bonding session quickly ends when Buttfuck drops a bitchcraft bomb of his own on Chronic's horribly coiffed head. Buttfuck then presents Chronic with a vial that contains some of dear dead Dad's spirit-banishing potion. All Chronic needs to do is wing it at Phoebe the next time he sees her, and everything will revert to its normal state. Chronic just gapes during all of this, so Buttfuck slips the vial into Chronic's shirt pocket, begging him to follow his instructions. Chronic finally shakes his head, and with a simple "I gotta go," brushes past Buttfuck to exit. Buttfuck looks guilty.
Manor sun porch. Piper and Raige dab at each other's wounds while conducting a processing summit on the wicker love seat. Piper eventually realizes that Mata Whori -- having spent her life pleasing men, only to wind up betrayed by them in the end -- "wants to return the favor." Raige looks concerned. Or annoyed. Or, you know, vacant. I can't tell anymore.
Out on the street, Raige orbs in behind a truck with Piper; off-camera reporters shout questions at Chronic as he wends his way to his limousine. Distracted by the journalists, Chronic doesn't notice that Mata Whori's waiting for him in the back seat of the car. Raige and Piper, though, spot her immediately and frown. Chronic eases into the back of the car and shuts the door before noticing his erstwhile and demonically possessed girlfriend. "Phoebe," he begins, "I've had enough." "Shhh!" she orders as two bondage clones squiggle in on either side of Chronic. Chronic looks like, well, exactly what any normal person would look like if they found themselves suddenly surrounded by squiggling bondage queens. "I always get my man," Mata Whori murmurs. Chronic's subsequent protests cut off abruptly just as Raige and Piper arrive at the limousine. They yank open the door to find the entire back end empty. The gals roll their eyes all the way into the final commercial break.