Charmed
Valhalley Of The Dolls, Part I

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SPARKLE, Phoebe, SPARKLE! (Part I)

Sigh.

Anywho, where was I? Oh, yeah. The Dolt's been AWOL since the fifth-season finale, and The Ever-Useless Elders naturally haven't a clue where he is. "They think he's been kidnapped," Chris breathes. "By whom?" bleats the Feebs.

Incoming! No, seriously -- and no, this transition doesn't make any sense -- we cut to a military helicopter swooping down through some trees, presumably to strafe the camouflage-clad Marines hopping into a Jeep on the ground below. There's far too much foliage for this to be Iraq, so I'm forced to assume that yet another Republican administration has been conducting clandestine warfare against a Latin American regime the Central Intelligence Agency finds distasteful. Weren't the '80s great? And the '70s, the '50s, and the '20s, for that matter? One of the camo lads takes a bullet to the chest, so his friends zip away in the Jeep to leave him gasping and bleeding on the ground. Slick move, boys. A swirly green portal materializes in the nearby underbrush to disgorge the Bride Of Riley, who slinks up to the mortally wounded chump in the dirt. I just know he's with the Reserves. "It's all right," the Bride smiles sweetly. "You don't have to be afraid -- you're one of the chosen few." Yep, that clinches it. One weekend a month, my ass. Chumpy's head lolls back against the dead leaves, and soon enough, his ghost rises from his corpse to stagger over to the Bride's side. She uncorks a vial that swallows Chumpy's soul whole. Once Chumpy's vanished into the bottle, the Bride replaces the stopper and picks her way back into the portal, which then dematerializes.

Ohmigod! There's something horrible on the floor! Ooops. Sorry. It's just a snot-nosed rugrat banging on a plastic drum. The camera pulls back to reveal, like, a gross of the things penned up in a side area of P3. Darryl and his Dazzling Mrs. trail Piper down the club's stairs, the Dazzling Mrs. Darryl trilling Piper's praises the entire way. How does Piper do it? The Dazzling Mrs. Darryl could barely take care of herself when her snot-nosed rugrat was a wee sprog, much less find time to run both a nightclub and a daycare center…in the very same space? Yick! I hate kids, but what the hell must they be licking off that floor? Forget how Piper finds the time -- who'd she blow to get a license? Ew! ANY-way, Piper Stepfords a pshaw about the whole thing just before the Dazzling Mrs. Darryl plants her pump in her mouth by mentioning the worthless Dolt's disappearance. Whatever could the Dazzling Mrs. Darryl mean? Piper wonders blankly. Darryl mumbles, "Sheila's just been a little concerned about you lately," and the Dazzling Mrs. Darryl gets a name! Yes! Nine months after we first met her! Woo hoo!

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Charmed

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