God! Anyway, after retrieving the scribbled Trokster vanquish, Raige orders Big Gay Chris off to the attic with her leash of mutts. The pack lugs Chris headlong up the stairs, and millions of sharp-eyed viewers learn that Drew Fuller flies commando when his pants drop below his waist to reveal a yard of ass crack. I'd linger on that embarrassingly tantalizing image, but this motherfucker's two hours long, and we haven't hit the goddamn opening credits yet. Anyone mind if I just carry on, then? Didn't think so.

After Piper putters from the kitchen, clad in an eye-searing blue floral print apron evidently designed for maximum clash with her orange floral-patterned blouse, the gals arrange themselves in a neat line beneath the stairs for the vanquish. Phoebe takes summoning duties, and the Trokster presently appears in the center parlor, grunting and scowling as is apparently his wont. Phoebe orders Piper to freeze him. Piper promptly flings out her Hands Of Discontent and spite-bombs one of the heads instead. "What did you do that for?" shrieks the Feebs. "I don't know!" Piper giggles. "I didn't mean to!" The remaining Trokster head growls in the Glamorous Ladies' direction, emitting a series of vocal concussion waves that flings them against the stairwell wall. The gals bounce into a pile on the floor, where Phoebe quickly spits out the following verse: