The Last Temptation Of Christy

Episode Report Card
We Don't Need No Water, Let The Bimbo Retard Burn!

Suicide Boudoir. Maggot Neck and Chrissssty leaf through an old scrapbook -- that is, if you consider scrapbooks that have only been around for fifteen years "old" -- and rank on each other for the embarrassing preadolescent crushes they had on Pee Wee Herman and John Stamos, respectively. Chrissssty then apologizes for setting the Retard on fire, but you can totally tell she doesn't mean it. Well, I could totally tell she doesn't mean it, because Chrissssty and I are now most awesome BFFs and she's been sending me telepathic messages through the television screen. The two vow to protect each other to the bitter end, or something, as the camera cuts outside the Boudoir door, where Piper and the audience find nosy Phoebe with her ear pressed against the wood. Seems the one thing Phoebe misses since moving to The Hagquarters is eavesdropping on everyone else in the Manor, which I'd normally rip her to shreds over, but hey. It's character continuity, and from the very first season, no less. That's got to count for something. I'm not sure what it counts for this late in the game, but there you go. Anyway, once Piper busts Phoebe, they turn towards the center of the second floor to hash out tonight's events, which have left Piper supremely wary of Chrissssty. "She's the 'key,'" Piper reminds Phoebe, "and whatever that means, it can't be good." Sure as hell blew chunks when the key was played Michelle Trachtenberg and Michelle Trachtenberg's Shiny, Shiny Hair (but mostly by Michelle Trachtenberg's Shiny, Shiny Hair), so I can't say I disagree with Piper. Phoebe, of course, is of another opinion. "Maybe it is!" she suggests. "Maybe she's here to help us fight whatever comes next, you know? Maybe they both are." "I guess," Piper concludes with a sigh, "we're just going to have to wait and see." Yeah, but we'll only have to wait and see for seven more episodes, because CANCELLED! Hooray!

Meanwhile, over in Not!warts, the Zombie Triad shudders up through the floor on sharply defined columns of black mojo to materialize upon the faux marble with menacing expressions on their faces. "She's in position," the point man announces before turning to face his fellows. "We're almost there." The Zombie Triad muah-ha-ha-has as the screen flares white one last time before slamming to black.

Next week: Like, the thirty-seventh wedding episode they've aired since 1998. Raige looks lovely, and Darling Henry dapper, but please. Enough with this bullshit already.

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