1994: A Fantasy Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving With The Outlaw In-laws
Wednesday, November 23 and Friday, November 25, 1994

SETTING: The LIVING ROOM of the CARRIAGE HOUSE, with a space set aside for a dining table formally set. ROSS stands away from the table, apprehensively studying a document. As BLAKE enters the room with an apron on, he initially is too distracted to pay attention.

BLAKE: The turkey’s in—didn’t even land in the floor once.

ROSS: Good, honey.

BLAKE [Plumping the sofa pillows as she talks]: Oh, Ross, I’m sorry. It’s just a shame that you have to wait one whole day to wait for the bank to correct that stupid mistake on that escrow account. I mean, it’s really a crime that they make us spend a holiday thinking about criminal charges and disbarment when you didn’t even do anything wrong.

ROSS: I know, honey, and I agree, and the subject is off-limits, at least for today. And besides, your father is coming, and he’s been doing enough gloating lately.

BLAKE: Honey, this is the first Thanksgiving we are going to spend at home as a married couple—please, I would like it to go well.

ROSS: So would I. [The doorbell rings as ROSS kisses BLAKE.] The outlaw in-laws are here.

BLAKE: Be good.

ROSS: I will.

BLAKE opens the door to HOLLY and ROGER.

BLAKE [Seeing HOLLY with food]: Hi! Happy Thanksgiving!

ROGER and HOLLY [Hugging BLAKE]: Happy Thanksgiving, honey!

Just when things seem impossibly normal, ROGER pulls out a box with an impressive carving set.

ROGER: Brought along my own carving set, and I sharpened the knife myself for the occasion.

ROSS: Eh, which one of us are you gonna use it on, Rog?

HOLLY makes a face.

BLAKE [To HOLLY]: Hey, is that a squash casserole?

HOLLY: Yes, it is. Let me put it in the oven for you.

BLAKE: Great.

ROGER: I’ll, uh, get this out of harm’s way.

BLAKE: Great.

[As ROGER and HOLLY go to the kitchen, BLAKE takes ROSS aside. She looks reproachful, and hangs onto his sleeve.]

ROSS: I’m sorry, honey. Don’t pull at me—I’m sorry! It’s just when I saw him, it reminded me that he was hanging around Ed’s arraignment yesterday like a carrion crow. Plus, he’s been making Ed sound like the deranged dipsomaniac on this vanity TV station of his. But I promise; I’ll do it. If I’ve got to spend the rest of the day with this man, it’s gonna take every ounce of my patience.

A little later, ROGER sits in the LIVING ROOM alone, holding the remote and watching his own station’s newscast.

UNSEEN NEWS ANCHOR: This is WSPR-TV and you’re about to hear a replay of Dr. Ed Bauer’s news conference, when the so-called “hit-and-run doc” actually implored the hit-and-run driver, who seriously—

HOLLY comes into the room and cuts the TV off.

HOLLY: Enough!

ROGER: I am in the business of reporting the news, Holly.

BLAKE: Listen, I take offense too, Dad. I mean, I am close with Ed.

HOLLY: It’s no use appealing to your father’s conscience on this matter. When it comes to Ed, he doesn’t have any!

ROGER: I’m a newsperson, as are you, and this is news.

HOLLY: This is tabloid trash, darling.

ROGER: You know, speaking of the Journal account, I’d think it has helped get rid of insomnia across the greater Springfield area.

HOLLY: Thank you.

ROSS [With a smile]: At least the Journal’s not gonna be sued for libel.

ROGER: Okay, is that a veiled threat, I ask you?

HOLLY: Okay, time out! [Pulling ROGER aside]

ROGER: Yes, dear?

HOLLY: Darling—sweetheart—you know that “family” thing you’re always talking about? This is it. Here we are!

ROGER: Okay. And a very litigious one, it would seem. Okay, I won’t say another word about St. Ed.

ROSS: Roger, please. Don’t push it.

HOLLY sighs.

ROGER: Look, if you had to put up with his holier-than-thou attitude for as many years as I did—

ROSS (smiles): Well, he is holier-than-thou.

ROGER (laughs): Okay, look, I am not unsympathetic to the feelings of his family, his friends, his attorney, his ex-wife, even ...

HOLLY: Look, is this all about my being upset over Alex? We’re even now. So, if you mention Ed’s name one more time I’m going to leave.

At this ominous moment, the doorbell rings—and the spell is broken.

ROSS: I’ll get it!

HOLLY hugs ROGER as BLAKE and ROSS open the door to TANGIE, clearly the designated-buffer for this party. She looks overwhelmed at her reception. ROSS and BLAKE hasten to get her out of her coat.

TANGIE: Am I late?

ROSS and BLAKE: No, no! You’re right on time. Let me take this coat.

TANGIE gives BLAKE the flowers she has brought.

BLAKE: Thank you, thank you!

ROGER: We’re anxious for more company. (ROGER gives TANGIE a big hug). Hello, it’s really good to see you. I can’t—I’m just so looking forward to spending another Thanksgiving with you, Tangie.

TANGIE: Well, I am, too.

ROGER: Well, I guess it is probably time to start lifting little lids on pots and seeing what’s—

BLAKE: Yes, yes, be my guest. Go on! Go on! Do it! Did you check the gravy, Mom?

HOLLY [ROGER and HOLLY head to the kitchen]: Yes, yes. . .

ROSS [To TANGIE and BLAKE, before disappearing]: Excuse me—I need an aspirin.

BLAKE and TANGIE laugh.

BLAKE: Oh, I know, my husband and my father in the same room! It’s like murder, but I don’t know what to do because I love both of them. I’m so glad you’re here. [TANGIE cracks up] How are you?

TANGIE: Oh, I’m fine. It was just a mistake not to tell Alan-Michael that my mystery friend was his father.

BLAKE: You told him. What happened?

TANGIE: We told him together, which was a mistake, because I should have told him on my own. Inadvertently, Alan really made it sound a lot worse than it was.

BLAKE: Oh, “inadvertent” my foot! I’ve warned you about Alan Spaulding! There is nothing that man does that is inadvertent! Everything that man does—every word he utters—is so carefully calculated to achieve his ends.

ROGER stands in the doorway, listening.

It’s about time to eat, and ROSS is seating the guests . . .

ROSS: All right, all right, Tangie . . . ah . . . why don’t you sit here? Holly, if you would be so kind, right here?

HOLLY: Aha. Thank you.

[They take their seats].

ROSS: And Roger, you can sit right here.

ROGER: Aha! [But his is a skeptical “Aha!”]. Okay, where are you sitting, Ross?

ROSS: At the head of the table, of course.

ROGER sits down between TANGIE and HOLLY, as directed, but immediately says . . .

ROGER: Ah, I can’t sit here.

ROSS: You know, never in all my life have I heard of a guest refusing to sit where the host wants them to sit!

ROGER [Holding up the carving knife]: You are forgetting about this.

ROSS: Roger, please, don’t wave the thing around, please, all right? Don’t wave it.

ROGER: Don’t worry. I have no intention of being yet another prominent citizen to become a crime statistic—

HOLLY: Roger!

ROGER: Sorry. But, I do need room to carve [He pushes at HOLLY and TANGIE with his elbows.] Look at this, you know . . .

HOLLY [Losing her cool]: Honey, just—

ROSS: All right! Never mind, Holly. It’s not worth fighting about. Besides, he’s armed! Go ahead! You want to sit head of the table, sit head of the table!

ROGER: Now, now, I’m not gonna usurp your place, but I do need a little room just to carve the turkey which I presume is going to be over here. [Taking the seat and spreading out the napkin] Then I will be docile, docile, docile papa.

ROGER looks most satisfied, but just at that moment, a frustrated BLAKE comes out of the kitchen.

HOLLY: Honey?

BLAKE: Well, I forgot to put the—take off the—foil tent to let it brown, so it came out . . .uhm . . . blonde.

ROGER: Ah . . .

BLAKE: I’m sorry.

TANGIE: Do you need help in there?

BLAKE: I’m sure; don’t come in!

TANGIE: Uh, you know, everybody’s really . . . uh . . . starving. I think the gentlemen wouldn’t mind a blonde.

BLAKE stalks out.

BLAKE: Everybody stop badgering me, because you’re gonna get a brown turkey if it kills me!

BLAKE stalks back into the kitchen.

ROSS: Welcome to Thanksgiving hell!

Fantasy Thanksgiving continued ...