S1-E07 - Imaginary Friend

Written by Pamela Eells & Sally Lapiduss

Directed by Lee Shallat

Executive Producers Robert Sternin & Prudence Fraser

Final Draft September 22, 1993

Show #105

COLD OPENING

INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY

MAGGIE IS PAINFULLY PLAYING A SLOW RENDITION OF “HEART AND SOUL” ON THE PIANO,
CONSTANTLY REPEATING THE SAME MISTAKE. FRAN, READING A MAGAZINE, AND BRIGHTON,
READING A COMIC BOOK, EXCHANGE A PAINED GLANCE. NILES IS DUSTING, AND GRACE IS
STARING INTENTLY AT A CHECKER BOARD LAID OUT IN FRONT OF HER. MAGGIE HITS
ANOTHER SOUR NOTE. BRIGHTON JUMPS UP, HANDS OVER HIS EARS.

BRIGHTON: Make her stop! It’s torture!

MAGGIE STOPS PLAYING

FRAN: You don’t know what torture is. My sister played the zither. One time my
ears actually bled.

MAGGIE: My teacher says I have nimble fingers.

NILES: (HOPEFULLY) You know, sign language is an excellent hobby.

FRAN: Be nice. You think Beethoven played perfect from the get go?

GRACE: That dog played the piano?


FRAN: Not the dog. Ludwig Van. But his sister Helga never teased. And you think
that was easy? All day long, (A LA FIFTH SYMPHONY) with the Da Da Da Daaa, Da Da
Da Daaa. Plus, they had no indoor plumbing.

BRIGHTON: I never heard of Helga Beethoven.

FRAN: Sure, because women’s contribution to history is always swept under the
rug.

GRACE: (TO AIR, IMPATIENT) Come on, Imogene, king me. (BEAT) Okay, I’ll do it
myself.

GRACE REACHES ACROSS THE BOARD AND “KINGS” HER CHECKEER PIECE. THEY ALL LOOK AT
HER STRANGELY. BRIGHTON HUMS THE “TWILIGHT ZONE” THEME.

BRIGHTON: (A LA ROD SERLING) Submitted for your approval: A girl who has a
friend who isn’t there. An imaginary friend. Here, in The Gracie Zone.

FRAN: Give her a break… she’s six. We’ll start worrying if she asks an imaginary
guy to the prom.

GRACE: (TO AIR) I win. You want to play hide and seek? Okay, you hide. (COVERING
HER EYES) One, two, three, four, five. (UNCOVERS HER EYES, LOOKS AROUND AND
GASPS) Where’d she go? She’s good.

FRAN: Gracie, honey, why don’t we all play a game together, like Go Fish, or my
favorite, Old Maid? (THEN, BEFORE BRIGHTON CAN SPEAK) Shut up, Brighton.

AS MAGGIE HITS ANOTHER SOUR NOTE, NILES ACCIDENTALLY KNOCKS THE PIANO LID DOWN.
MAGGIE PULLS HER FINGERS AWAY JUST IN TIME.

NILES: Oops… a bit too much polish.

FADE OUT.




ACT ONE

SCENE ONE


FADE IN:

INT. THERAPIST’S WAITING ROOM – DAY

CC ENTERS.

AN ELEGANT UPPER EAST SIDE OFFICE. A WELL-DRESSED MAN AND WOMAN SIT LEAFING
THROUGH MAGAZINES, AND THERE IS A RECEPTIONIST OFF TO ONE SIDE. FRAN ENTERS.

FRAN: Well, this must be the place. Dr. Bort, (INDICATING DOOR, WHISPERS)
psychiatry.

RECEPTIONIST: (SMILING) May I help you?

FRAN: (INSTANTLY DEFENSIVE) What’s that supposed to mean? (CATCHING HERSELF)
Sorry, it’s just that I’m kind of new at this whole (WHISPERS) therapy thing.
Although, what am I worried about? I’m okay, you’re okay. (THEN WORRIEDLY
INDICATING PEOPLE ON COUCH) Are they okay?

RECEPTIONIST: You must be a new patient.

FRAN: Me? A patient? Whaddaya nuts? (TO PATIENTS) Not that there’s anything
wrong with that. I’m just here to pick up Gracie Sheffield.

RECEPTIONIST: Oh, you must be the new nanny.

FRAN: Fran Fine. I’m sort of Gracie’s role model. I’m sure she’s told you all
about me.

RECEPTIONIST: Anything Grace may have said about you is strictly confidential.

FRAN: Whaddya mean? If she blabbed about that little “Chutes and Ladders”
incident, I did not cheat; she just can’t count.

THE RECEPTIONIST WRITES SOMETHING DOWN. FRAN TRIES TO SEE WHAT SHE’S WRITING,
BUT THE RECEPTIONIST LOOKS UP AND CATCHES HER.

RECEPTIONIST: Excuse me?

FRAN: (COVERING) Great nails. You must eat a lot of Jello.

RECEPTIONIST: Please have a seat. You’re disturbing the other patients.

FRAN: Like they’re not disturbed already.

FRAN SITS DOWN NEXT TO THE OTHER PATIENTS. THEY LOOK AT HER AND FRAN SMILES BACK
NERVOUSLY. THERE IS A LONG PAUSE, THEN FRAN NOTICES ONE WOMAN HAS AN EXPENSIVE
HANDBAG. SHE NUDGES A MAN.

FRAN (CONT’D): Alligator handbag, two thousand dollars. We should all have her
problems.

GRACE ENTERS FROM THE THERAPIST’S OFFICE.

FRAN (CONT’D): Hi, Gracie, how was your session?

GRACE: It was great. I’m making real progress. C’mon, Imogene, lunch time.
(PLEASED) Stage Deli? I was gonna say the same thing.

FRAN: And that’s after a hundred and fifty dollar session.

DISSOLVE TO:


ACT ONE

SCENE TWO

INT. LIBRARY – LATER THAT DAY

CC AND MAXWELL ARE LOOKING AGHAST AT SEVERAL HIDEOUS COSTUME SKETCHES.

MAXWELL: (ON PHONE) Well… What can I say about these costumes? They’re… awfully
well-drawn. You stayed almost completely inside the lines.

CC IMPATIENTLY GRABS THE PHONE.

CC: (INTO PHONE) They’re grotesque. You couldn’t design a dickie! You talentless
hack! (BEAT, THEN INCREDULOUS) He hung up on me!

MAXWELL: Perhaps we should review the chapter on tact in the Producers Handbook.


FRAN KNOCKS AT THE OPEN DOOR AND ENTERS.

FRAN: (AGREEING) You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.
(THINKING) Although what would you want with a whole bunch of flies? I mean
unless you had a lizard to feed, or a salamander or something…

MAXWELL: Miss Fine, may I ask why you’re in my office babbling about reptiles?

FRAN: Well, actually I wanted to talk to you about one of the kids.

MAXWELL: If this is about canceling Maggie’s piano lessons, God yes!

FRAN: Okay, so she’ll never be Liberace. Is that a crime?

CC: Yes, in some countries they’d cut off her hands.

FRAN AND MAXWELL STARE AT HER.

CC (CONT’D): (OFF THEIR STARES) What?

FRAN: Let me ask you a question: When they shot Bambi’s mother, did you find
that a sad moment… at all?

CC: I’m sure she’s mounted on a nice wall in a fine home somewhere.

FRAN: (REACTS) Okay… (THEN TO MAXWELL) And now I’ll talk to you.

MAXWELL: I’m waiting.

FRAN: So, today, I took Gracie out to lunch and that figment of her imagination
tagged along. Not that I mind eating two BLT’s, but she stuck me with the check.


MAXWELL: Oh, Imogene, yes. She’s been cropping up quite a bit lately.

FRAN: (NODDING) You should have seen poor Gracie in the park, sitting on that
teeter- totter, her little tush in the dirt, not budging an inch. Just waitin’
and waitin’. It broke my heart.

MAXWELL: (CONCERNED) Perhaps we should increase her therapy.

FRAN: I was thinking just the opposite. She’s six years old. Does she really
need to be lying on some couch getting her head shrunk?

CC: Miss Fine, they don’t actually shrink the child’s head.

FRAN: What am I, an ignoramus? Who recommended this quack anyway?

CC: (DEFENSIVE) She happens to be one of the finest therapists in New York. You
can’t get in to see her until one of her patients commits suicide.

FRAN: Same with my pedicurist, Selma. That woman knows her way around a bunion
like nobody’s business.

MAXWELL: Miss Fine, while I appreciate your concern, Grace is a complex child
and therapy is an important outlet for her.

FRAN: If she needs an outlet, I’ll take her to Jersey. There’s a Ralph Lauren
outlet, a Donna Karan outlet. Look, I’m not saying the kid has to go cold
turkey. I just think she needs less Freud and more fun.

CC: It just so happens that therapy can be enormously beneficial. I’ve been
going for twenty years.

FRAN: (STARTS TO SPEAK, THEN THINKS BETTER OF IT) Nah, it’s too easy.

DISSOLVE TO:


ACT ONE

SCENE THREE

INT. KITCHEN – A WEEK LATER

GRACE AND FRAN ARE MAKING A MESS BAKING COOKIES. GRACE IS HAPPILY SIFTING FLOUR,
WHICH IS SMUDGED ON HER FACE. FRAN IS TAKING A BATCH OF COOKIES OUT OF THE OVEN.


GRACE: How come they call them “toll house” cookies?

FRAN: ‘Cause you eat now, and pay later.

FRAN TASTES SOME DOUGH.

GRACE: Don’t eat raw dough. It’ll make you sick.

FRAN: Not true. Grown-ups just say that.

GRACE: Why?

FRAN: More dough for them.

GRACE: Grown-ups lie sometimes. You don’t really have to wait an hour before you
go into the pool.

FRAN: Unless you’ve eaten my mother’s kugel, in which case you have to wait a
week.

FRAN STARTS TO SIT DOWN.

GRACE: Don’t! Imogene’s sitting there.

FRAN: Oops! Sorry.

FRAN STARTS TO SIT IN THE ONLY OTHER CHAIR.

GRACE: No! Now she’s sitting there.

FRAN: She’s a zippy little thing, isn’t she? (LISTENING TO AIR) Excuse me? Oh,
sure.

GRACE: What?

FRAN: She wants to sit over on the counter.

FRAN MIMES MOVING NORMAL-SIZED CHILD.

GRACE: What are you doing? She’s only this (HOLDING HER FINGERS UP) big.

FRAN: She’s only that big and she’s causing me this much trouble? Here, sit in
the teacup.

GRACE: She’s bored.

FRAN SPINS THE CUP AROUND.

FRAN: There. It’s just like Disneyland.

GRACE HAPPILY EATS DOUGH, AS MAXWELL ENTERS.

GRACE: Hi, Daddy!

MAXWELL: Hello, sweetheart. Don’t eat raw dough, you’ll get sick.

GRACE: Yeah, right.

FRAN: (TO MAXWELL) The eggs are pasteurized, live dangerously…. have a
fingerful.

FRAN OFFERS A SPOONFUL OF DOUGH. MAXWELL HESITATES, THEN TAKES A FINGERFUL AND
EATS IT.

MAXWELL: Very tasty. (TAKES ANOTHER FINGERFUL) So what did you ladies do today?

GRACE: We shopped ‘til we dropped.

FRAN: (PROUD) She tried on every pair of shoes in the store and bought nothing.

GRACE: (PROUD) I made a salesman cry.

FRAN: (WELLING UP) I’m tellin’ ya, she’s got a gift.

GRACE STARTS HAPPILY DROPPING THE BATTER ON THE COOKIE SHEETS.

MAXWELL: Well, Miss Fine, cutting back on her therapy seems to have done some
good.

FRAN: (SOTTO, TO MAXWELL) Who needs Freud when you got Ferragamo? Maybe I should
hang out my shingle.

FRAN TAKES A BITE OF COOKIE. AS SHE PUTS IT IN HER MOUTH, GRACE LETS OUT A
BLOODCURDLING SCREAM.

GRACE: Stop!

MAXWELL: What? What is it?

FRAN: Whatsa matter?

GRACE: (TO FRAN) You killed Imogene!

FRAN: (PANICKED) How? What’d I do?

GRACE: (SCREAMING) You ate her!

MAXWELL: (HORRIFIED) You ate her?

FRAN: I did not eat her!

GRACE: She was sitting on that cookie, and you ate her!

FRAN QUICKLY SPITS IMOGENE OUT, BRUSHING HER TONGUE WITH HER FINGERS. THE CRUMBS
LAND ON MAXWELL. GRACE CONTINUES TO SCREAM.

MAXWELL: Grace, Grace… look, Miss Fine spit her out. Imogene’s fine. She’s right
there, see?

FRAN: Sure, and she’s not dead, she’s just stunned. You alright, honey?

GRACE: (SCREAMING) Help her!

MAXWELL: (TO FRAN) Do something!

FRAN: (SARCASTIC) Like what? C.P.R.?

MAXWELL: Right! C.P.R.!

FRAN: But I’ve only done it on a dummy! I’ve never done it on a real… What am I
talking about?

GRACE: (SCREECHING) Save her! She’s turning blue!

MAXWELL: You have to clear the air passageway. (MOVING HIS FINGER) There, the
throat is clear!

GRACE: That wasn’t her throat.

MAXWELL FREEZES IN DISGUST. FRAN JABS HIM.

FRAN: So you’ll wash your hands later. Keep going!

MAXWELL: Now I breathe into the mouth. (TO GRACE) This is her mouth?

GRACE NODS, AND MAXWELL PROCEEDS TO GIVE MOUTH TO MOUTH RESUSCITATION.

FRAN: I’ll pump her little heart!

MAXWELL: Don’t break her ribs!

GRACE: She stopped breathing!

FRAN: Oy.

FRAN GRABS TWO POT LIDS AND RUBS THEM TOGETHER LIKE FIBRILLATOR PADDLES.

FRAN (CONT’D): Clear!

SHE JOLTS IMOGENE AND JUMPS BACK. MAXWELL LOOKS AT HER STUNNED.

MAXWELL: I’m getting a pulse! She’s coming around! She’s a bit disheveled, but
she’s a plucky one.

FRAN: She pulled through!

MAXWELL: We’ve done it!

FRAN AND MAXWELL JUMP UP AND DOWN, CONGRATULATING EACH OTHER. GRACE JUST STARES
SADLY AT THE COUNTER.

GRACE: It’s too late. She’s gone.

GRACE RUNS OUT OF THE ROOM.

MAXWELL: This is terrible.

FRAN: I know. My malpractice insurance is gonna go sky high.

MAXWELL: I don’t believe this.

FRAN: It was an accident.

MAXWELL FOLLOWS GRACE, LEAVING FRAN ALONE. SHE SHOUTS AFTER THEM.

FRAN (CONT'D): I’m telling you, I didn’t eat anybody! (REACHING IN HER MOUTH)
Oooh, a hair.

FADE OUT.

END OF ACT ONE



ACT TWO

SCENE ONE

INT. LIVING ROOM – THE NEXT DAY

A TABLE WITH CANDLES AND FLORAL DISPLAY IS SET UP.

MAXWELL: We’re having a mock funeral for an imaginary person, and Grace is the
one in therapy.

FRAN: It’s a good idea. Trust me.

MAXWELL: Sure, why not? It’s gotten us this far.

FRAN GIVES MAXWELL A LOOK.

FRAN: I remember when Goldie passed away – she should rest in peace –

MAXWELL: (SYMPATHETIC) Your grandmother?

FRAN: My golfish…

MAXWELL: Goldie the goldfish. Clever. You should write.

FRAN: I loved her so much. Then one day I found her, belly up in her bowl, her
little body covered with ick. (DISTRAUGHT) We gave her a twenty-one flush
salute.

MAXWELL: What a lovely tribute.

FRAN: No, she just wouldn’t go down.

FRAN LOOKS AROUND FOR A TISSUE, THEN SPOTTING MAXWELL’S POCKET HANDKERCHIEF, SHE
YANKS IT OUT AND BLOWS HER NOSE.

MAXWELL: Miss Fine, I understand you were fond of your fish, but are we floating
anywhere near a point here?

FRAN: The point is – and by the way, thank you so much for your sympathy – that
when death comes tappin’ at your tank, you need some kind of closure.

MAGGIE AND BRIGHTON COME DOWN THE STEPS.

FRAN: Is Gracie coming down?

BRIGHTON: She’s going through your shoe boxes trying to pick out the casket.

MAGGIE: She’s leaning toward your Ferragamo box.

FRAN: The kid’s got taste.

MAXWELL: This whole thing is surreal.

FRAN: (TO MAXWELL) When you do the eulogy, be sure to mention how much Imogene
loved peanut butter.

MAXWELL: Me? Why do I have to do the eulogy? Why not you?

FRAN: Because I’m the killer.

MAXWELL: I suppose that would be in poor taste.

FRAN: Of course, it wasn’t my fault. First she’s in the cup, then she’s on the
cookie…

MAXWELL: I suppose next you’ll be saying it was a suicide.

FRAN: She did seem a little despondent.

MAXWELL: So now you’re the imaginary Dr. Kervorkian.

MAGGIE PLAYS A BAD, MINOR KEY VERSION OF “HEART AND SOUL.” NILES DESCENDS THE
STAIRS, IN TOP HAT AND MOURNING SUIT, CARRYING A SHOEBOX. GRACE FOLLOWS, WEARING
A STYLISH BLACK DRESS, HAT, AND VEIL. MAXWELL AND FRAN RUSH TO HER SIDE.

MAXWELL: Niles?

NILES: It’s my Mr. Peanut look. Grace picked it out. You know how Imogene loved
–

MAXWELL: Peanut butter, yes, I know. Grace dear, how are you holding up?

FRAN LOOKS INSIDE THE SHOE BOX AND REACTS.

GRACE: I’m coping.

FRAN: I see you went with the open casket. (HOPEFULLY) But won’t she be crowded
with my new boots in there?

GRACE: No, she always wanted to be buried in suede.

BRIGHTON: It’s in the will. She left me her imaginary Porsche.

BRIGHTON MAKES A “SHE’S NUTS” GESTURE.

GRACE: You don’t mind, do you Fran?

FRAN: (WHIMPERING) Uh-huh.

NILES: Lord and Taylor giveth, and Lord and Taylor taketh away.

FRAN: She couldn’t have gone with a nice casket from Kinney’s?

NILES: (RE: PICTURE FRAME) Imogene? (GRACE NODS) That’s a lovely photo.

GRACE: (NODDING) Annie Leibovitz.

FRAN: I know you miss Imogene, but remember part of her will always be with you.


MAGGIE: And the rest of her is in Fran’s stomach.

BRIGHTON: Unless she’s already been… passed on.

FRAN: (POINTEDLY) Maybe we should start the memorial service now.

MAGGIE STARTS PLAYING; BRIGHTON REACTS.

NILES: Isn’t there enough pain in this house?

MAGGIE CONTINUES PLAYING.

FRAN: Thank you, Maggie.

MAGGIE PLAYS ON.

FRAN (CONT'D): (TERSELY) Thank you, Maggie.

MAGGIE STOPS.

FRAN (CONT'D): Mr. Sheffield wants to say a few words about the dearly departed.


MAXWELL: (AWKWARDLY) Um, yes, well. What can one say about Imogene? Faithful
friend, constant companion, peanut butter lover… Niles?

MAXWELL QUICKLY SITS DOWN. NILES LOOKS APPALLED.

NILES: Sir, please… I’m too overcome with grief.

MAXWELL: (FIRMLY) Stiff upper lip, man.

BRIGHTON: I have a few words prepared.

ALL: No!

MAXWELL BECKONS A RELUCTANT NILES FORWARD.

NILES: Perhaps in these difficult times, we can find solace in the immortal
words: “Therefore ask not for whom the bell tolls…”

MAXWELL: Is that Donne?

NILES: No, there’s still a bit more. (STARTING OVER) “Ask not for whom the bell
tolls…”

SFX: DOORBELL RINGS.

NILES LOOKS HEAVEN WARD.

NILES (CON'T): Thank God, it tolls for me.

HE QUICKLY EXITS TO ANSWER THE DOOR.

FRAN: Oy, Maggie, play something.

MAGGIE: (THRILLED) Really? Any requests?

BRIGHTON: Gee, how about “Heart and Soul”?

MAGGIE: (HAPPILY) Okay.

MAGGIE STARTS PLAYING AGAIN.

SFX: PHONE RINGS

MAXWELL AND BRIGHTON BOTH JUMP UP.

MAXWELL/BRIGHTON: I’ll get it!

MAXWELL: It’s my house, I’ll get it.

MAXWELL EXITS, AS CC ENTERS WITH A BOUQUET OF FLOWERS.

CC: Grace dear, I’m so sorry for your loss. How dreadful for you, to see your
little friend… (SHUDDERS) consumed by your caretaker.

FRAN: (DEFENSIVE) I spit her out.

GRACE SIGHS, TAKES CC’S FLOWERS, AND LAYS THEM ON THE TABLE BY THE SHOE BOX
CASKET. MAXWELL RE-ENTERS.

MAXWELL: (TO FRAN) That was Grace’s therapist. She wants to see the three of us
this afternoon.

FRAN: Why me? What did I do?

CC: Oh, nothing, merely cannibalized the child’s best friend… Nanny Lector.
(PUTTING A PROTECTIVE ARM AROUND GRACE) I only hope the good doctor can undo the
damage you’ve done. Because nothing is more important than the emotional well
being of our little Grace.

MAXWELL: I knew you’d feel that way. That’s why we’re taking your appointment.

CC: (HURLING GRACE AWAY) What?!!

MAXWELL: You’ll be alright, won’t you?

CC: Fine. I’ll be fine.

FRAN HAS BEEN EDGING SIDEWAYS TOWARD THE FERRAGAO BOX AND TAKES OUT A BOOT.

MAXWELL: Miss Fine!

MAXWELL GRABS IT BACK.

FRAN: Just paying my last respects.

FRAN CARESSES THE BOOT AND PUTS IT BACK.

DISSOLVE TO:



ACT TWO

SCENE TWO

INT. THERAPIST’S WAITING ROOM – LATER THAT AFTERNOON

THE RECEPTIONIST IS READING A PAPERBACK. ANOTHER COUPLE SITS NEARBY, HOLDING
HANDS. MAXWELL AND FRAN ENTER, ARGUING.

MAXWELL: (LOOKING AT HIS WATCH) We’re late. Can’t you ever be on time for
anything?

FRAN: You think this look happens by accident? These clothes just fall on me?
The only shoes that go with this outfit are six feet under.

THE OTHER COUPLE EXCHANGE A GLANCE.

WOMAN: (TO FRAN AND MAXWELL) That’s how we used to talk to each other, (TO HER
HUSBAND) remember sweetheart?

MAN: Yes, dear.

WOMAN: But then Dr. Bort gave us the tools to rebuild our marriage.

MAN: And now it’s perfect.

MAXWELL: (TO COUPLE) We’re not married.

MAN: (SOTTO TO MAXWELL) Get out now!

THE WOMAN SHOOTS THE MAN A LOOK. HE SMILES, COVERING. THEY GO BACK TO HOLDING
HANDS. FRAN STARTS PACING BACK AND FORTH.

FRAN: Uch, you know what the doctor’s gonna do? She’s gonna try and pin the
whole thing on me.

MAXWELL: And she would be wrong exactly how?

FRAN: Not that anyone’s pointing fingers here, (POINTING HER FINGER) but this is
your fault.

MAXWELL: Even the twisted pathways of your mind couldn’t lead to that
conclusion.

FRAN: Oh yeah? Watch. You cut back on Gracie’s therapy.

MAXWELL: At your suggestion!

FRAN: Since when do you listen to me?

MAN: (SOTTO) Ooh, he walked right into that one.

FRAN: Besides, I never would have opened my mouth if I’d know then what I know
now.

MAXWELL: What do you know?

FRAN: You know! Niles told me all about how your family tree is crawling with
meshuggenehs.

MAXWELL: (FRUSTRATED) Sorry?

FRAN: Nuts, kooks, wackos.

MAXWELL: Ah, my family’s dementia is a vicious rumor. (BEAT) Just because my
Great Aunt Hermoine lived in the gazebo with a giant hoot owl…

FRAN: Yeah, there’s the Queen of Normal. Not to mention your Uncle Duncan and
his magic kilt.

MAXWELL: (DEFENSIVE) It was magic! And I shudder to think about the eccentrics
in your family.

FRAN: We don’t have any. Well, except for my Aunt Bessie. She collects gravel.

MAXWELL: Now that is odd. Not to mention difficult to catalog.

FRAN: It’s Ozzie and Harriet compared to owls and kilts!

MAXWELL: (FRUSTRATED) What on earth is an ‘aussienharriot’?

FRAN: And you’re in the theatre?

THE INNER DOOR OPENS AND GRACE APPEARS, FOLLOWED BY DR. BORT.

MAXWELL: Grace, dear, how are you feeling?

GRACE: I’m drained. I don’t bounce back like I use to.

TRYING TO CHEER HER UP, FRAN HANDS HER A MAGAZINE.

FRAN: (TEMPTING) Want to read “Psychology Monthly”

GRACE: (PERKING UP) Ooh. (READING) “Ritalin: friend or foe?”

SHE HAPPILY SITS DOWN, AND STARTS READING.

DR. BORT: Hello, Mr. Sheffield. And you must be… the nanny.

FRAN: (DEFENSIVE) Is that what she told you?

MAXWELL: You are the nanny.

FRAN: Oh, right.

AS THEY DISAPPEAR INTO THE INNER OFFICE, THE WOMAN SLAPS THE MAN ON THE SHOULDER
WITH HER PURSE.

WOMAN: “Get out?” Is that what you want? “Out?”

MAN: (DEFIANT) Yes, I want out.

WOMAN: Forget it. You’re in. Forever.

MAN: (MEEK) Okay.

CUT TO:



ACT TWO

SCENE THREE


SCENE THREE

A STANDARD PARK AVENUE SHRINK’S OFFICE, ONE CORNER OF WHICH IS FILLED WITH TOYS.


FRAN: I’m not lying down.

DR. BORT: That’s alright.

FRAN: ‘Cause I just did my hair.

DR. BORT: Of course.

FRAN: Otherwise I’d love to lie down, because, frankly, I’m exhausted.

MAXWELL: Miss Fine, you can sit, you can stand, you can hang upside down like a
bat…

FRAN: (TO SHRINK) Is it just me, or do you sense some hostility here?

DR. BORT: Well, I’m sure it’s been a difficult time for everyone. (TO FRAN)
Would you like a cookie?

DR. BORT HANDS FRAN A PLATE OF COOKIES

FRAN: I think not. Look, before you start blaming me, you should know I was just
trying to do my best for Gracie, and I think I’ve done pretty well, other than
this one little measly dead friend thing.

DR. BORT: You know what I think?

FRAN: Just like that? Two seconds of conversation and you’re ready to pass
judgement?

DR. BORT: I think you’ve done a good job with Grace.

FRAN: (RE: THERAPIST) She’s very insightful.

DR. BORT PRESSES A BUZZER ON HER DESK.

DR. BORT: (TO RECEPTIONIST) Would you send Grace in? (TO FRAN AND MAXWELL) You
know Grace first started seeing me after her mother died.

MAXWELL: Which is when Imogene first appeared.

DR. BORT: To help fill the void in Grace’s life.

MAXWELL: I think I see what you’re getting at, Doctor.

FRAN: Well, somebody buy me a vowel.

GRACE ENTERS.

MAXWELL: Hi, sweetheart.

FRAN: Come sit with us.

GRACE SITS BETWEEN FRAN AND MAXWELL.

DR. BORT: You know, Grace, Fran’s feeling very bad about what happened to
Imogene.

GRACE: Well, sure. She killed her.

DR. BORT: But she didn’t really kill her, did she?

GRACE: Yeah, I was there. She ate her.

MAXWELL: I tried to save her.

FRAN GLARES AT HIM.

DR. BORT: Grace? I want you to think, was it really Fran’s fault?

GRACE: You mean, ‘cause Imogene was just my pretend friend?

DR. BORT: That’s right. And maybe you didn’t want to play with her anymore.

GRACE: Yeah, she was starting to get on my nerves.

DR. BORT: But what’s the real reason you don’t need Imogene anymore?

GRACE: (A BEAT) 'Cause now I have Fran.

FRAN HUGS GRACE.

FRAN: (MOVED) I’m speechless.

MAXWELL: This is a miracle.

DR. BORT: No, it’s really a common psychological occurrence.

MAXWELL: No, the miracle is her being speechless.

FRAN: Uch, I feel so much better.

GRACE: Me, too.

FRAN: Maybe this whole therapy thing isn’t such a crock.

DR. BORT: Oh, thank you, Miss Fine.

GRACE PICKS UP A COOKIE FROM THE PLATE.

GRACE: Fran, you want a cookie?

FRAN: I don’t know.

GRACE: It’s alright, Fran.

DR. BORT: Go ahead.

FRAN: Are you sure? You don’t see anybody sitting on this cookie?

GRACE: (AS IF TO A MADWOMAN) Nooo. Do you?

FRAN: Okay, just checking.

FRAN BITES A PIECE OF THE COOKIE. GRACE SCREAMS. FRAN SPITS IT OUT.

GRACE: Just kidding.

THEY LAUGH, AND FRAN PULLS HER INTO A HUG, AS WE:

FADE OUT.

END OF ACT TWO

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