Fade up on the Manor dining room, wherein Phoebe and Raige are just finishing a formal sit-down dinner with Chronic and Slampiece Buttfuck. Well, it's sit-down, at any rate. I don't know how formal it could possibly be with Buttfuck in a track suit and the gals in those flimsy camisoles they've decided to call blouses this evening. Buttfuck, by the way, seems to have no problem attending tonight's Manor affair despite his oft-cited mysterious and annoying problems with magic. Raige, meanwhile, seems to have no problem chugging on that fat glass of wine, despite her oft-cited problems with the hooch. In any event, Raige announces what a swell time she's had, then awkwardly segues, "But Phoebe actually brought us here tonight to say something -- didn't you, Phoebe?" Raige and Buttfuck smile encouragingly, silently urging her drop the bitchcraft bomb on Chronic's horribly coiffed head. Phoebe, gracelessly gathering plates while still seated, dodges the issue. Buttfuck shiftily darts his eyes around while Raige glares. Chronic, clueless, natters something about their impending trip to Paris the following morning to finalize a "French merger," but Raige won't let the issue drop, needling Phoebe in so many words to just come out with it already. Phoebe, flustered, allows her evasive responses to sputter and die, and ends up simply grinning goofily at the boyfriend. Buttfuck steps into the awkward conversational gap to offer Chronic a hearty "You must have great business karma." And if that's an example of his conversational skills in social settings, perhaps he should remain alone in Castle Montanague at all times. "I don't believe in that stuff," Chronic claims, and much as it pains me, I'm forced to agree with him. While it's nice to hope, as Chronic admits he often does, that "if somebody cuts [you] off on the road," "they're going to get what's coming to them," a belief in karma also dictates that if you find yourself suffering from, say, the heartbreak of psoriasis, you deserve it. You rotten, wretched, worthless excuse for a human being. And that? Is bullshit.
Buttfuck waxes poetic on the nature of karma just long enough for Raige to get as peeved as I've been since the beginning of this episode, and she cuts him off with "Great -- whatever," before brutally booting the Feebs in the shin beneath the table. Phoebe tiresomely makes as if to drop her bitchcraft bomb before offering a last-minute toast to Chronic's super-fabulous French merger. Raige scowls and orders Phoebe to haul her ass into the kitchen, pronto, so she can "help [Raige] with the cobbler." The gals skedaddle while Chronic cluelessly mumbles, "Uh, am I missing something?" Slampiece Buttfuck wiggles his wonky eyebrows.
Raige gesticulates with a couple of wine glasses for emphasis as she bitches and snipes her way over to the coffee pot. "You are going with him to France tomorrow!" she cries, dumping the glasses on the counter and snatching up the pot. "You've been putting this off for too long," she adds, ramming the tempered glass down on the center island with a force that should shatter it into thousands of flesh-slicing shards. "You have to tell him you're a witch." Phoebe babbles that it might be best to wait until they get to France before letting Chronic in on the big secret -- that way, Raige can orb her back to San Francisco if there's a problem. No, it doesn't make sense for her to haul her hag ass halfway around the planet when there's a very good chance Chronic will dump said ass the second he learns about the whole bitchcraft thing, but it's Phoebe we're talking about here. We should be used to such nonsense by now. "You've probably been caught almost like a million times," Raige exasperates. "You can't keep taking that risk!" Phoebe half-heartedly agrees, then shouts, "YOU KNOW, MAYBE I SHOULD WAIT TILL TOMORROW UNTIL AFTER THE BIG BANQUET SO I DON'T UPSET HIS BIG DAY," like, he's sitting ten feet away from you in the other room, you dingbat. Is he deaf on top of the dumb? Raige wrinkles her nose and announces, "I think you have a big problem avoiding conflict, and one day, missy, it is going to come back and bite you in the ass." Phoebe grimaces as Buttfuck lopes in from the dining room to announce that the Chronics are getting restless. All one of them. Raige instantly chides him for rambling endlessly about karma when he's "supposed to be making it easy" for Phoebe. Fortunately, the Dolt orbs in with some bad news before I find myself ramming my fists through the television screen in a vain attempt to throttle these nitwits. "Piper's under attack!" the Dolt gulps. "She needs your help, fast!" Phoebe and Raige shove the cobbler and coffee into his hands, instruct him to keep Chronic occupied, and orb out. Buttfuck and the Dolt return to the dining room, where a confused Chronic makes stupid noises. Buttfuck and the Dolt make stupid noises in kind, and the boys settle in for some dessert.