Piper, cutting through the crap, clenches her teeth and seethes, "You can't have him." "You don't have a choice," Death duhs, and all of this again is a lesson she learned last year, so I don't know why he's being so patient with her, but whatever. Death admits that, because of his long history with the Manor Morons, he simply wanted to warn Piper in order "to give [her] time to prepare." "No!" Piper blurts, furiously shaking her head. Death simply states, "I'm afraid you don't have much time." Piper, struggling to control her emotions, closes her eyes and takes a few quick breaths before opening them again to demand, "Why?" "I'm not about why or how," he needlessly reminds her, "I'm simply when -- you know that." "It's not right, and it's not fair," she interjects, ignoring his implication and shaking her head once more, "not after everything we've gone through and everything we've been promised." "There's a reason for everything," he shrugs, not unkindly, "even this. You know that, too, Piper." "I am sorry," he concludes before vanishing in his smoky twist of Death's-head mojo.
Piper, thus left alone in the nonexistent room, hesitates not a second before heading over to the potions table. She snatches up a small pad of paper and a pen and wings the following spell, which she then reads aloud:
Hide him from sight
So I might fight.
Ignore which leaves bereft:
My husband from The Angel Of Death.
And that makes no goddamned sense at all, now does it? "Ignore my husband from The Angel Of Death"? Maybe if I fiddle with the punctuation a little...oh, fuck it. We'll just chalk it up to Piper being distraught and leave it at that, I suppose. A magical glissade hits the soundtrack after she's finished her recitation, followed by a loud crashing noise from below. Piper snaps her head around in the direction of the upper stairs before shooting out of the frame to end up in...
...that garage they've never had before tonight, and if we're meant to believe that the crashing noise she heard all the way up in the nonexistent attic originated in this garage, this show can blow me. "[Dolt]?" she calls out hesitantly. After a few non-tense-making moments, he pops up from behind the truck to wonder what gives. Once more, Piper refuses to level with the husband, but at least this time she can use the Manor's suddenly and conveniently bleating cordless phone for an excuse. At least temporarily. The Dolt retrieves the thing from his nearby tool chest and answers to find an evidently frenzied Raige on the other end of the line. He quickly passes the phone to Piper, who opens with a curt, "What?" "Whaddya mean, 'What'?" Raige exasperates from an anonymous street corner elsewhere in the city. "Do you have any idea what is going on down here?" "What's the matter?" Piper demands. "You are never gonna believe it," a flabbergasted Raige sighs as a badly green-screened Dolt-alike passes in front of her. Another Dolt-alike -- this one actually physically present in the shot and sporting a navy blue business suit -- accidentally bumps into Raige and mutters an apology before exiting the frame. We finally cut to Raige's point-of-view of the street to discover that Piper's little spell has apparently transformed every single man in the city into the Dolt's twin. We also discover that this show's drastically reduced effects budget has resulted in this entire sequence looking like hot buttered ass, what with the indifferent green-screening of Cop Dolt, Trendoid Dolt, Louche Dolt, Preppie Dolt, Dot-Com Dolt, and Personal Shopper Dolt into the shot. The color tones and apparent light sources are all horribly fucked up, and the only Dolt who isn't suffering as a result is Driving Dolt, who evidently was actually on the backlot for all of this, rather than bumbling about some interior set. God, I hate this show. In any event, we eventually cut back to Raige, who goggles her way into the first commercial break.
Manor. Aftermath. The Glamorous Ladies have gathered on the sun porch for a rather frantic processing summit. Phoebe and Raige are bright-siding that the fact that every man in town is sporting the Dolt's wrinkly chimpanzee face must be confusing The Angel Of Death, but Piper's having none of it, reminding the others that it's only a matter of time, and besides, the Dolt could quite simply slip in the shower or fall down the stairs, so clumsy and bumbling is he. "We'll find a way," Raige insists, before wandering into a non-sequitur by wondering whatever happened to The Retarded Bimbo. "She's upstairs," Phoebe replies, "trying to find the demon who took her demon." "Why don't you go keep an eye on her?" Piper suggests, adding in a mumbled almost-aside, "Make sure she doesn't get herself killed." "Are you sure?" Phoebe asks, and heh. No, Feebs. You just sit there on the wicker love seat and let the stupid Retard blow her brainless self up, or whatever. Piper unfortunately disagrees with me, so Phoebe heads up to the nonexistent attic while Raige again assures Piper, "We're gonna figure out how to save him." "Save who?" the suddenly appearing Dolt inquires. Piper and Raige, both in head-to-toe black, just stare at him. "What?" the Dolt dims. Heh.