Shut up! Hooray!
Yeah, but "Sheila" sort of sucks. You know. A little.
Fuck you! "Sheila" sucks no more! Because the Dazzling Mrs. Darryl is now the Dazzling Sheila, and she shall have dominion over land and sea and air and man and beast and, like, plants and shit, and her reign upon the earth shall last forever and ever and ever! Whee!
Whatever. I need a drink.
Dazzling Sheila! Woo! Woof woof woof woof woof woof WOOF!
Needless to say, part of me is far too excited by this development to pay much attention to the remainder of this scenelet. Not that it matters, really, as Piper just Pollyannas something stupid about her current predicament before Darryl and his freshly named wife -- Sheila! Hooray! -- take their leave.
Back at the stairs, the Dazzling Duo bump into Raige and Phoebe, who have just arrived with those tinkly chimes and that goddamned choir. Phoebe and her fucking backup band immediately determine that something's troubling the pair, and commence with the rudely intrusive questioning. Raige splutters apologies to the befuddled marrieds before lugging the Feebs off to the side. "What is going on with you?" she grits. "I don't know," Phoebe guhs. "Lately, I've just been feeling a lot of weird vibes." Raige insists that she "can deal with only one whacked-out sister at a time," and suggests Phoebe cram those weird vibes up her ass. Phoebe's all, "Gotcha," and the two hesitantly approach Piper to deliver the dreadful Dolt news. Piper receives said dreadful Dolt news with vacant aplomb. Also, when prodded, Piper admits she can't remember anything that was said during her last meeting with her deadbeat husband. Phoebe and Raige shake their heads sadly.
The Demon Cam On Crack evidently pulled a groin muscle the day before this episode was filmed, for the next shot involves his understudy, The Survivor Cam On Crack, which shoots backwards across the city and out over the ocean before landing on a tropic isle in the middle of nowhere. The difference between the Cams? Those ominous -- yet festive! -- native drums that tag along wherever The Survivor Cam goes. The Survivor Cam deposits us on a leafy trail deep within the tropic isle, where we find Bride Of Riley striding purposefully along, a terribly pleased smile plastered across her face. We follow as she passes through a blissful montage of various international warrior-types sparring with each other in various sun-dappled clearings. "Blissful," incidentally, because I don't have to recap it. Eventually, two women emerge onto the path to greet Bride Of Riley with open arms and air kisses. The newcomers are dressed in a similar fashion and are played by Bride Of Vaughn Melissa George and Colleen Porch, who, in honor of her appearance on a particularly infamous episode of the late, unlamented Fastlane, shall be known as Bride Of Strap-On. Bride of Vaughn, incidentally, was to inherit the role of Susan in the dismal American remake of Coupling, and I must note that she bears an uncanny resemblance to Sarah Alexander in some of these shots. In any event, Bride Of Riley proudly displays the Vial Of Chump for a moment before uncorking it and allowing Chumpy to escape. Vaughn and Strap-On appraise the apparition for a bit. Chumpy apparently meets with their approval, for Bride Of Vaughn soon whispers sweet nothings into his ear, then corporealizes him by blowing in his face. What? Hey, I'm not the idiot who wrote this shit.
Cut to Corporeal Chumpy face-planting in the sand that lines an octagonal bamboo cage. An old-timey Roman shield is tossed in after him, after which an Asian Amazon -- sorry, Valkyrie -- seals the cage shut by wiggling a bit of sparkly lavender mojo at the door. Corporeal Chumpy rises to his feet to find a cadre of leather-clad, lesbionic model-types eyeing him from sofas arranged on platforms encircling the cage. They coo and pet each other and, like, feed each other grapes. Because lesbians love the grapes. The entire set-up's supposed to be in a cave of some sort, but there's a suspicious amount of bright white light flooding the ring from above. Also, the back of the cage opens onto a gangway that leads deep into cave-parts unknown. Uneasy, Chumpy bellows, "What do you want from me?" "We want you to fight," puckers Bride Of Vaughn. The ominous -- yet festive! -- native drums kick up a notch as some dork in a gladiator outfit appears in the octagon's gangway. The dork sports a Greek helmet, and he's got some really stumpy legs. Stumpy kicks the old-timey shield into Chumpy's hands while all around the boys, lesbians titter. Suddenly, Stumpy attacks! Manly swordplay. Feminine caresses. Sharp steel meets spiky breastplate. Bare thighs rub gently against one another. Dodging. Stroking. Wow. Brad Kern is a fucking pervert. Finally, Stumpy gets the upper hand and slices through Chumpy's torso with his broadsword. Bride Of Vaughn eyes the grievously injured Chumpy, then announces, "He fought well enough. Heal him, and get him into training." The Asian chick drags Chumpy on out of there as Stumpy rips off his helmet to scream, "What about me!" and…it's the Dolt. Shit. Bride Of Vaughn blithers something about him being an Elder and therefore having "much to teach [her] warriors" before she bolts for a relaxing sponge bath with Strap-On and Riley. "Dramatic" "music" swells as the camera cranes up above the caged Dolt, which frankly only serves to make his legs seem that much shorter. I half expect him to KHAN! his way into the break, but the useless tool just stands there for a second before the sweet, sweet blackness of commerce temporarily obliterates him.