Stephen Colbert wants back in the warlock game, and he’s not being subtle about it.

Monday night on The Late Show, the host opened with the kind of manic, caffeine-fueled energy that usually signals either genius or a nervous breakdown. Turns out it was both.

“Listen up, Hollywood!” he shouted, slamming a glittery, bedazzled résumé onto the desk. “Stu Robison is officially available. That’s right, I will reprise my iconic, career-defining, chest-hair-forward performance as the narcissistic actor who played Darrin in the 2005 cinematic masterpiece Bewitched. I still have the wig. I still have the ego. I will do it for scale and unlimited LaCroix.”

He then produced an actual framed still of himself from the film (shirt unbuttoned to dangerous levels) and kissed it on the glass. “Nicole Kidman, call me. Will Ferrell, I know you’re busy being Santa, but think of the chaos. Nora Ephron is gone, but her ghost would want this. I’m begging on my knees, Sony. Bewitched 2: Endora’s Revenge. I’ll even let Kidman twitch my nose this time.”

The audience was already howling when Colbert pivoted, eyes wild. “Speaking of things coming back after being frozen for decades… science has officially gone full Jurassic Park, but with babies.”

He clicked to a headline: “Healthy Baby Born from 30-Year-Old Frozen Embryo.”

“That embryo was conceived when George H.W. Bush was president, people!” Colbert yelled. “It spent thirty years on ice while we invented the internet, TikTok, and whatever Ozempic is. And now it’s a bouncing baby who’s technically older than half the staff writers in this building. Somewhere there’s a toddler with a 401(k).”

He paused, mock-whispering, “Imagine the first birthday party. ‘Happy 1st… and 31st, little Madison!’ The cake has two sets of candles: one for actual age, one for embryo seniority.”

Then he spun to the next story like a man possessed.

“But wait, there’s more late-stage capitalism! A bottling plant in Lithuania accidentally filled thousands of energy drink cans with vodka. Straight vodka. Nine percent ABV. They’re calling it a ‘mix-up.’ I’m calling it the greatest innovation since Red Bull gave itself wings.”

Colbert held up a can labeled “Vodka Bull – Now With Real Regret.” “Kids trying to cram for finals opened these and suddenly spoke fluent Lithuanian and tried to fight their RA. One teenager reportedly finished a calculus exam, proposed to his TA, and woke up in Poland. The company issued an apology and then quietly raised the price forty percent because, honestly, the streets are talking.”

Jon Batiste hit a triumphant chord as Colbert grabbed the final headline like it was the One Ring.

“And finally, gentlemen of America, your insecurity has reached Mount Everest. The Wall Street Journal reports that some men are now dropping six figures (six figures!) on penis enlargement surgery. We’re talking $100,000, $200,000, private clinics in Belgrade, stem-cell injections, the whole horror movie.”

He went full silent for three beats, then whispered, “For that price I could buy an actual Tesla and still have enough left over for therapy, which I would need after spending two hundred grand to add half an inch.”

The audience lost it.

Colbert leaned into the camera, deadly serious. “Bro, if you have six figures lying around and your first thought is ‘Let me pay a Serbian doctor to turn my penis into a timeshare,’ maybe, just maybe, the real enlargement that needs to happen is emotional. Or just buy a truck. Same result, cheaper, and you get cup holders.”

He stood up, threw his hands in the air, and tied it all together with the deranged bow only he can tie.

“So there you have it, America: frozen babies older than Spotify, energy drinks that skip the hangover and go straight to international incident, rich men paying European surgeons to live out their anime fantasies, and me, Stephen Colbert, ready to slip back into a soul patch and a spray tan if anyone, anyone, will green-light Bewitched 2: The Twitchening.”

He grabbed the framed photo of 2005-era Stu Robison, cradled it like a baby, and walked off set mid-show, shouting over his shoulder:

“Call my agent! Or a priest! Or both! Good night!”

The band played him out with the Bewitched theme while the audience gave a standing ovation that lasted through the entire commercial break.

Hollywood, the embryo is thawed, the vodka is flowing, the surgeons are on standby, and Stephen Colbert is ready.