Meanwhile, down in Hell, perpetual Halliwell doormat Piper is doing battle with a legion of muscle-bound West Hollywood bondage queens in a torch-lit brick hallway. The problem is, every time she deploys her Hands Of Discontent to blow one up, two more appear in the vanquished queen's place. Piper, incidentally, is wearing a loose-fitting black knit poncho with white pinstripes to disguise the fact that Holly Marie Combs is, by now, a hundred and seventy-three months pregnant. One of the bondage queens hurls a Flaming Ball Of Death at her face, so she dives to the floor in a dodge that leaves her with a nasty scrape on her forehead. She flicks out an angry hand to vanquish the offending queen as Phoebe and Raige orb in and hustle her to her feet, dragging her off to a nearby alcove. As Piper explains her predicament, the gals hear two more bondage queens squiggle into the hallway, so Piper pokes her head around the corner to offer them a Hand. She misses them completely, and they retaliate by slinging a matching pair of FBODs in her general direction. The Balls go wide as Piper ducks back into the alcove. "Okay," Phoebe sings, pushing Piper aside. "Back up." Rude! Phoebe emerges into the hallway and calls out, "Hey, boys!" The bondage queens, in no way appreciative of Alyssa Milano's costly plastic surgery, whip a couple of FBODs at the Fun Bags. Phoebe, using her bizarre new power of whatever the fuck it was the boneheaded writers dumped on her in the season premiere, redirects the FBODs back into the boys' chests. The bondage queens howl and moan and blaze their merry way to Hell. Or, you know, a deeper section of Hell than the level they just occupied. Whatever. Phoebe allows herself a small, pleased smile of triumph before smugly turning to rejoin her sisters. Of course, she doesn't see the four replacement queens who squiggle in behind her. Raige and Piper hastily yank Phoebe back into the alcove, where Piper announces, "New plan: blast, then bail." The other Glamorous Ladies quickly agree.
Kitchen. Chronic barges into the room in search of the Feebs, but of course finds the place empty. "Where'd they go?" he demands, spinning around to confront Slampiece Buttfuck and the Dolt. "Uh, must be an emergency, or something," Buttfuck lames. "It's always some emergency," Chronic retorts. "Or some phone call, or some marathon pee break! What's going on?" Raige chooses this moment to orb back into the room with her sisters. Chronic's eyes roll back in their sockets as he drops out of the frame in a dead faint. Hee. I hope he slammed his head into the center island on his way down. Piper, whose own garish head wound has vanished since last we saw her, hoots, "Ooop!" as we collapse into the opening credits.