The Entirely Unironic Segue Fairy lugs us back to (Hewitt)'s crypt, where the bad thing that is this episode just got a hell of a lot worse. How? Try Alyssa Milano writhing past a hieroglyphed pillar, swiveling her lamé-swaddled ass in an Kern-approved version of The Dance Of The Seven Veils. The Fun Bags angrily wrestle each other for dominance beneath a gold-toned, appliqué-encrusted latex brassiere. I bury my face in my hands in an outpouring of the sort of shame Alyssa Milano so obviously is incapable of feeling for herself. (Hewitt) somehow manages to take this all in from his slouch in a chair without barking up a lung. "Glad to see you're feeling so alive," he gamely offers as he sucks on a grape to prevent himself from dissolving into unseemly gales of derisive laughter. "It's this body," Alyssa slithers. "I've never felt so much power before. Passion. Desire." Saline. She smoothly tries to get her some by announcing, "Just because the witch is in me doesn't mean there's not room for you, too." Class-say! God, this is awful. Hideously, indescribably, soul-scarringly awful. I have a horrible feeling Brad Kern tarts Alyssa Milano up in ludicrous scenes such as this not, as he claims, to chase higher ratings, but rather to provide himself with some free masturbation material. So disturbing. So...bad. I can't keep watching this scene over and over again. I just can't. It's too, too traumatizing. So, we'll cut to the chase. Bring Me The Head Of John The Baptist Barbie reads the following from a slip of paper in an attempt to banish the Feeble One's soul: