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
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
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.
INT. THERAPIST’S WAITING ROOM – DAY
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)
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
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
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
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
FRAN: And that’s after a hundred and
fifty dollar session.
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
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
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
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
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.
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
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.
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?
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
GRACE: She’s bored.
FRAN SPINS THE CUP AROUND.
FRAN: There. It’s just like Disneyland.
GRACE HAPPILY EATS DOUGH, AS MAXWELL
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
MAXWELL: Very tasty. (TAKES ANOTHER
FINGERFUL) So what did you ladies
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
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
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
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
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.
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 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.
END OF ACT 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
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
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
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.
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
BRIGHTON: It’s in the will. She left me her
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?
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.
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.
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
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
CC: (HURLING GRACE AWAY)
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.
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
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
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
MAXWELL: What do you know?
FRAN: You know! Niles told me all about
how your family tree is crawling
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
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
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.
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
DR. BORT: I think you’ve done a good job
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.
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
GRACE: Well, sure. She killed her.
DR. BORT: But she didn’t really kill her,
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
MAXWELL: No, the miracle is her being
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.