Written by Czar Fruitcake
SUMMARY: Phoebe gets hers (FINALLY!)
Leo was talking with Paige and Phoebe in low tones. “I’m really worried. Piper is acting very strange.”
“Is that a spatula mark on the side of your head?” Paige asked astutely. Leo nodded. “She smacked you with a spatula?” Paige asked, amused. “She just smacked me once upside the head.”
“Once!” Phoebe exclaimed. “She smacked me repeatedly.” There was an awkward pause. No one was terribly surprised, because they wanted to smack Phoebe all the time.
“Talking about me?” Piper asked. “That doesn’t make the pregnant lady very happy.” Everyone shrank away from her. Piper looked at Paige, glaring at her ugly shirt.
“What kind of screwy fashion-blind deranged she-hag designed that ugly piece of crap?” she asked. “You’re not a sailor or a prostitute, so get some clothes that don’t make you look like a sailor-prostitute. Kapeesh?” Paige was insulted: first her hair, and now her sense of fashion. Was nothing sacred?
Piper turned her attention to Phoebe. “Is that your fourth hairstyle today? For the love of all things good and sacred, Phoebe, I’d almost prefer seeing you in your I’m-not-a-slut hat than seeing you in a different hair style every five minutes, and for the record, they are all ugly, as is that pathetic maybe-I’m-bangs-maybe-I’m-not thing you’ve got going on. AAARGGG!”
THWACK. THWACK. THUD. Piper smacked each of her sisters and then banged their heads together. Leo remained wisely silent, and orbed up to talk to the elders. As Piper jumped the orb to follow him, she rubbed her stomach and her eyes glowed a bright bluish white.