COLD OPENING

INT. KITCHEN – MORNING

FRAN AND NILES ARE SEARCHING FOR A MOUSE. NILES IS WEARING A PAIR OF OVEN MITTS. FRAN IS CARRYING A WHISK BROOM AND A PAPER

FRAN: Here, mouse. Come here, mouse…

NILES: Here, little mousey wousey…

FRAN: (TO NILES) Don’t talk down to him. (COMFORTING TO MOUSE) There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re just going to put you outside.

NILES: We’re just going to put you outside. (EQUALLY COMFORTING) And then we’re going to kill you.

FRAN: Niles! How could you kill Mickey Mouse?

NILES: If you must know, I’ve always found his voice annoying.

FRAN: How could a voice be annoying? (BEAT) You’re not really going to kill him?

NILES: Miss Fine, need I remind you that the inspectors from the Professional Butlers Association will be coming here to observe my work and decide to accept me as a member?

FRAN: Really? I thought you were kidding about that. I mean it sounded so ridiculous (OFF HIS LOOK) in a profound and important way.

NILES: I happen to come from a long line of butlers, and every one of them has belonged to the P.B.A… until the day my father, butler to the Duke of Gloucester, accidentally knocked over a vase.

FRAN: And for that they kicked him out?

NILES: He was wrestling naked with the Duchess at the time.

FRAN: To each his own. Unless Duchess was a rotweiller.

NILES SPOTS THE MOUSE ON THE TABLE AND IN ONE SWIFT MOVE GRABS THE COVER TO A SERVING TRAY AND PUTS IT DOWN OVER THE MOUSE.

NILES: Got it!

NILES LAUGHS AN EVIL LAUGH.

FRAN: Leave the poor little guy alone. Don’t you believe in instant karma? He’s an innocent creature.

NILES: Not so innocent. He has brie on his breath.

CC ENTERS.

CC: I’m famished. Who do you have to know to get a cucumber sandwich around here?

NILES HANDS HER A CUCUMBER

NILES: Here. Knock yourself out.

CC: What’s in here?

SHE LIFTS THE LID OF THE SERVING TRAY, SEES THE MOUSE AND SCREAMS.

CC (CONT’D): Aaaaahh!!!!

FRAN: You scared him!

NILES: Blast! He got away!

CC: I can’t stand mice. I have to go.

SHE SCURRIES OUT THE DOOR ON TIP-TOE, BEING CAREFUL TO AVOID ANY MICE.

FRAN: When you gotta go, you gotta go.

NILES: Well, back to the hunt. The inspectors will be here next Monday and they frown upon vermin running free about the house.

FRAN: Then you better change the locks ‘cause CC has a key.

FADE OUT.

END OF COLD OPENING



ACT ONE

SCENE ONE

INT. LIVING ROOM – LATER THAT DAY

FRAN IS LOUNGING ON THE COUCH. ENGROSSED IN A MAGAZINE. MAXWELL ENTERS FROM OFFICE WEARING A PAIR OF LARGE, BRIGHT YELLOW GALOSHES, CROSSES TO STAIRS AND CALLS UP.

MAXWELL: Children, time to go!

FRAN: You’re not planning on wearing those boots to the museum?

MAXWELL: My wellies? Yes, there’s a chance of rain.

FRAN: There’s a chance I’ll fall off the couch, but you don’t see me wearing a seat belt?

MAXWELL: Your point?

FRAN: What happened? You’re normally so GQ. Now suddenly you’re the Gordon’s Fisherman?

MAXWELL: Miss Fine, I didn’t hire you as a fashion consultant, I hired you to take care of the children.

FRAN: That’s what I’m doing. Your son just got elected class president. His first day in office you’re gonna embarrass him with a scandal like this?

ALL THE CHILDREN COME DOWN THE STAIRS

MAXWELL: (RE: BRIGHTON) There he is. Hail to the chief!

BRIGHTON HOLDS UP BOTH HIS ARMS IN THE CLASSIC NIXON VICTORY POSE.

BRIGHTON: Thank you, thank you. I am not a crook.

MAGGIE: I still can’t believe you got elected.

BRIGHTON: Why?

MAGGIE: That means someone had to vote for you.

FRAN: Hey, give your brother some credit. We’re all very proud of him. He obviously commands the respect and admiration of his classmates, and he’s showing some real leadership qualities. Meanwhile, (SOTTO TO BRIGHTON) your fly is open.

BRIGHTON MAKES THE APPROPRIATE ADJUSTMENT.

MAXWELL: So now we’re off to celebrate Brighton’s achievement by taking in the German Expressionist show at the Met.

FRAN: Oh.

BRIGHTON: There’s a fine line between reward and punishment in this house.

GRACE: I love Edvard Munsch’s painting, “The Scream.”

GRACE IMITATES THE PAINTING BY CLASPING THE SIDES OF HER FACE AND MIMING A SCREAM.

MAXWELL: Now, Brighton, you get to pick where we have lunch.

BRIGHTON: I’m the president… McDonald’s.

FRAN: McNuggets too? Please, I’m already green with envy.

MAGGIE: What are you doing on your day off?

FRAN: Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I told my my mother I have to stay home and rest. Otherwise I’d be having lunch right now with my Uncle Jack and cousin Marsha. They’re up from Boca, and believe me, spending an afternoon with Jack and Marsha, well, don’t ask.

MAXWELL: (IN HIS OVERCOAT BY NOW, AND EAGER TO LEAVE) I don’t think I did.

FRAN: (OBLIVIOUS, WORKING HERSELF UP) “Jack the k’nocker,” we call him. Uncle big mouth. Always trying to one-up my mother. We buy a Skylark, he buys an El Dorado. We move to Flushing, he moves to Florida. She never won. Oh yeah, one time. She got a mustache before he did.

GRACE: Fran…?

FRAN: Yes, sweetheart?

GRACE: I’m sweating.

FRAN: So what are you hanging around here for? Go, go, have fun.

ALL AD-LIB GOODBYE, MAXWELL AND THE CHILDREN EXIT. NILES ENTERS CARRYING A SMALL GIFT BASKET.

NILES: Mr. Sheffield?

FRAN: They just left.

NILES: Oh. Lauren Bacall just sent over some Beluga caviar.

THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER A BEAT.

FRAN: You make the toast. I’ll write the thank you.

FRAN AND NILES HEAD TOWARD THE KITCHEN.

NILES: Why is it that we can’t kill a mouse but we can suck the unborn offspring from a fish?

FRAN: (BEAT) I’m pro-choice.

DISSOLVE TO:



ACT ONE

SCENE TWO

INT. LIVING ROOM – A SHORT WHILE LATER FRAN IS ON THE COUCH, TRYING TO GET THE LAST BIT OF CAVIAR OUT OF THE JAR WITH HER FINGER.

FRAN: Come on, little fish egg. Come to mama.

SFX: DOORBELL RINGS.

FRAN GETS UP AND OPENS THE DOOR TO SYLVIA.

FRAN (CONT’D): Ma?

SYLVIA: Hi, darling.

SYLVIA ENTERS, GIVING FRAN A PECK ON THE CHEEK.

FRAN: What are you doing here?

SYLVIA: You feel a little flushed. Are you overheated?

FRAN: I was lying on the couch, how could I be overheated?

SYLVIA: Meanwhile your father’s friend Gus dropped dead on our couch. Lucky for me I have plastic slip covers. The paramedics wrapped him up and took him away.

SYLVIA SITS DOWN ON THE COUCH

FRAN: (STILL AT THE DOOR) Come on in, Ma, make yourself at home.

SYLVIA: I gotta tell you about my lunch with Jack and Marsha. Uch, they give me such a pain. (TOUCHES HER STOMACH) It feels like there’s an asparagus spear sticking right through the wall of my stomach.

FRAN: Ma, it’s my day off. Do we have to discuss gas?

SYLVIA: So we’re sitting, we’re eating, and, per usual, Jack’s going on and on about Marsha. Marsha and her doctor husband, Marsha and her four-karat solitaire, Marsha and her beach-front property right next to Dan Marino.

FRAN: Who the hell is Dan Marino?

SYLVIA: How the hell should I know? Anyway, just when I’m about to scream, they ask me about you.

FRAN/SYLVIA: (ADOPTING AN INFURIATINGLY SYMPATHETIC TONE) “And how is Fran doing?”

FRAN (CONT'D): Oh, I hate that tone of voice.

SYLVIA: So I told them you eloped with a rich Broadway producer, and you live in a palace on the Upper East Side.

FRAN: (HURT) Ma, how could you do that?

SYLVIA: What?

FRAN: You left out the butler.

SYLVIA: Damn.

FRAN: So how did they take the good news? I trust they were devastated?

SYLVIA: Crushed. You shoulda seen their faces.

FRAN: I woulda liked to.

SYLVIA: You will.

FRAN: What, you took pictures?

SYLVIA: (COYLY) No.

FRAN: (REALIZING) Oh no. No way, Ma. Where are they?

SYLVIA: Looking for a place to park.

SFX: DOORBELL RINGS

SYLVIA (CONT'D): Oh, good, they found one.

FRAN: Forget it. I’m not doing this.

SYLVIA: Fine, that’s your choice. It’s good to have choices. Not that I had a choice when I was in labor with you for ten hours, with that big head.

FRAN: I’m sorry, Ma, it’ll never happen again.

SYLVIA: Darling, do it for me. It’ll shut Jack up once and for all. After I’m dead, you can tell him whatever you want.

FRAN: Is it really so important that I gotta make up a whole story and pretend I’m something I’m not?

SYLVIA: Would you?

FRAN: No.

FRAN OPENS THE DOOR TO UNCLE JACK AND COUSIN MARSHA. THEY’RE BOTH WELL-TANNED. MARSHA WEARS PINK FROSTED LIPSTICK. THEY’VE BOTH RECOVERED FROM THE SHOCK OF SYLVIA’S NEWS AND HAVE THEIR GAME FACES BACK ON. AD LIB HUGS AND KISSES.

MARSHA: Look at you, ya’ caught a husband! Mazel tov!

JACK: (TO SYLVIA) The way she was going, we were sure she’d wind up an old maid.

FRAN: (A BEAT, THEN GESTURING GRANDLY) Welcome to my home.

JACK AND MARSHA ENTER.

SYLVIA: (INDICATING THE ROOM) Heh, Jack? Heh? Is this a palace? She’s living like Seigfried and Roy.

JACK AND MARSHA ARE IMPRESSED, BUT DO THEIR BEST TO HIDE IT.

JACK: Not bad. How many square feet?

FRAN: Oh, we don’t get into all that. As long as we’re comfortable, that’s all that matters.

JACK: (TO MARSHA) Your place is what…?

MARSHA: Twenty-eight hundred.

FRAN: (NOT SKIPPING A BEAT) Ours is twenty-eight thousand. (THEN, REALIZING) The upstairs is enormous. (BEAT) I’d put out a spread, but the butler is off today.

SYLVIA: The butler, Jack.

JACK: Yeah, I heard, Syl.

FRAN: Well, this has been fabulous, but if you miss your plane I’ll never forgive myself.

JACK: You really think we’d go home without meeting the lucky man?

FRAN: You want to meet Mr. Sheffield?

MARSHA: You call your husband “Mr. Sheffield?”

FRAN: It’s a pet name. You know, Sheff, Sheffie…

SYLVIA: Chef Boy-Ardee

FRAN: Ma, stay outta my private life.

JACK: Sylvia says he looks just like Fernando Lamas.

FRAN: When he was alive. Unfortunately Maxwell’s at a rehearsal, he won’t be home for hours.

MARSHA: So we’ll wait.

JACK: We bought full-fare tickets, we can change them anytime.

MARSHA: We’re not going anywhere till we meet this mystery man.

JACK AND MARSHA SIT.

NILES ENTERS.

NILES: I’m going to run down to the bank, I’ll –

FRAN: Honey, you’re home!

NILES: Beg your pardon?

FRAN: (CROSSING TO NILES) Rehearsal went quick, huh? Come here and meet your new relatives. (SOTTO) These are the k’nockers from Boca.

NILES: (SOTTO) And they just k’nocked at your door?

FRAN LAUGHS EMBARRASSEDLY, AS THOUGH NILES HAD SAID SOMETHING VERY INTIMATE.

FRAN: Stop, Sheff, not here. (TO THE OTHERS) He’s so naughty. (SOTTO TO NILES) You’re Mr. Sheffield, I’m your wife, we’re deliriously happy.

NILES: (LAUGHS, THEN SOTTO) What’s in it for me?

FRAN: Does the phrase “hairline crack in the Ming” mean anything to you?


NILES QUICKLY CROSSES TO JACK, HAND EXTENDED.

NILES: Maxwell Sheffield, producer.

JACK: (SHAKES HANDS) Jack Norman.

MARSHA: (SHAKING) I’m Marsha, nice to meet you.

NILES: Likewise. (EXTENDS HIS HAND TO SYLVIA) And you are…?

SYLVIA: Your mother-in-law.

NILES: (MAKING A JOKE OF IT, SMACKS HIS FOREHEAD) OH, right! I was drunk at the wedding. (LAUGHS, PUTS AN ARM AROUND SYLVIA’S SHOULDER) How are you, mumsy?

JACK: They say entertainment is recession- proof. I take it business is good?

NILES: Too good. I curse every moment I’m away from my beautiful bride.

FRAN: Oh, Sheff…

NILES: Sure, I hobnob with the rich and famous. But the only time I’m truly happy is when I’m with her. She’s my center. My compass. The love of my life. Sorry, sometimes I get swept up in the magic that is Fran.

FRAN: Hey, who can blame you? (THEN) So, Marsha, how are things with you and whatsisname?

MARSHA: (DEFENSIVELY) Stan. And they couldn’t be better. That man would throw himself in front of a truck for me.

FRAN: That’s how she lost her first husband.

MARSHA: (GIVES FRAN A LOOK, THEN PROUDLY) Stan is a doctor.

FRAN: (DISMISSIVELY) Podiatrist.

MARSHA: So, where are your kids? I want to meet your kids. I should say his kids, ‘cause, you know, they’re not the fruit of your womb.

FRAN: That’s why this womb can still wear a bikini.

NILES: Unfortunately the children, who adore my sweet Fran, went to the museum.

SYLVIA: (PICKING HER TEETH WITH A TOOTHPICK) They’re very cultured.

MARSHA: (ACCUSINGLY) They’re off by themselves? In this city?

FRAN: Marsha, please. What kinda mother you think I am? They’re with, uh… (TO NILES) who are they with…?

NILES: Niles the butler.

FRAN: Oh yeah, I love him.

JACK: I thought it was his day off.

FRAN: It is. But it’s, you know… (TO NILES) what’s it called again?

NILES: I can’t wait to hear.

FRAN: It’s Butler Day at the museum.

MARSHA: Butler Day?

FRAN: Bring your butler, get a free beverage.

SFX: DOORBELL RINGS.

NILES REFLEXIVELY STARTS TO GET THE DOOR. FRAN STOPS HIM.

FRAN (CONT’D): (TO NILES) Babe, you always get the door. Let me wait on you.

FRAN CROSSES AND OPENS FRONT DOOR TO THE BUTLER INSPECTORS. TWO FASTIDIOUSLY DRESSED GENTLEMEN NAMED STANTON AND GEORGE.

FRAN (CONT’D): Hello. Who are you?

STANTON: We’re from the Professional Butler Association.

GEORGE: We’ve come to observe Niles.

FRAN: Oy, I thought you were coming next Monday.

NILES HAS CROSSED IN FROM LIVING ROOM.

STANTON: It’s our policy to show up early, to catch the prospective member unawares.

FRAN: Boy, you butlers are sharks. Unfortunately, Niles isn’t here. (TO NILES) is he, darling?

NILES: (CONSIDERS HIS OPTIONS, THEN) No, darling, I’m afraid Niles is out.

FRAN: You’ll have to come back.

NILES: (POINTEDLY) Actually, darling, that might not be good. If they came back to observe Niles they might confuse him with someone else.

FRAN: Huh? Oh, yeah. What he said.

NILES: (USHERING THE INSPECTORS IN) Come in. We’ll tell you everything you need to know about Niles.

STANTON: I take it, sir, you’re the gentleman of the house?

NILES: Apparently.

STANTON: And you are the lady?

FRAN: (DEFENSIVE) Yeah, can’t ya’ tell?

STANTON REACTS. THEY CROSS INTO THE LIVING ROOM.

FRAN (CONT’D): Guys, these are inspectors from the Butler Association. They want to talk to me and him – Max – about our butler – Niles – who isn’t here.

NILES: (FOR THE INSPECTORS’ BENEFIT) And we miss him so. He’s quite indispensable.

JACK: Are you guys butlers, too?

STANTON: Yes, we are.

JACK: I’m surprised you’re not at the museum.

STANTON: (CONFUSED) The museum?

NILES: So, what can we tell you about Niles? He’s organized, efficient, considerate, tactful… I could go on and on, but in short, Niles is one of the greatest – perhaps the greatest – service professional of our time.

FRAN: I’ll say. He’s right up there with Mr. French.

THE FRONT DOOR OPENS AND MAXWELL BARGES IN, UPSET, FOLLOWED BY THE KIDS.

MAXWELL: You’re not going to believe this! They had to close the museum because of a bomb threat. What kind of world are we living in?

HE’S TAKEN OFF HIS COAT AND THROWS IT TO NILES.

MAXWELL (CONT’D): Here.

THE COAT HITS NILES, BUT HE MAKES NO ATTEMPT TO CATCH IT, AND IT FALLS TO THE FLOOR.

STANTON: Who is this person?

FRAN: Uhh… that would be Niles the butler.

FADE OUT.

END OF ACT ONE



ACT TWO

SCENE ONE

INT. LIBRARY – A SHORT WHILE LATER

FRAN, NILES, MAXWELL AND THE KIDS ARE IN MID-CONVERSATION.

MAXWELL: I leave the house for twenty minutes, and I come back to some bizarre parallel universe. I’m you, you’re me, and you’re married to her.

FRAN: He could do worse.

NILES: And I have. Sir, I would be the last to coerce you…

FRAN: Coerce, coerce.

NILES: But I would point out that if Miss Fine’s relations see through our little charade, they’ll never let her forget it. Or her poor mother.

FRAN: And if you blow it for Niles, he won’t get in the Butler Association and his family name’ll be mud forever. By the way Niles, what is your family name?

NILES: Just Niles. Like Cher.

FRAN: The important thing is, your employees are bonding. It’s a beautiful thing.

MAXWELL: Perhaps you’ll get your next job together.

FRAN: C’mon, I’m helping my mother, Niles is helping me, and so far you’ve been no help at all… Mr. Sheffield, sir.

GRACE: I thought you weren’t suppose to fib.

FRAN: Technically no, but there’s a gray area when somebody’s feelings are at stake. Like if your friend walks out of the ladies’ room with the back of her dress tucked into her panty hose and her tush hanging out, you have to tell her. But if she asks “Did those guys over there see anything?” you fib through your teeth.

BRIGHTON: You gotta love her.

MAGGIE: Father, I think you should do it.

GRACE: Me, too.

BRIGHTON: Fran and Niles do so much for us. It’s the least we can do for them.

FRAN: How sweet.

BRIGHTON: (TO MAXWELL, DELIGHTED) And I get to boss you around.

MAXWELL: (TO FRAN AND NILES) Look, if you can pull it off, fine, but I won’t be a part of it and neither will the children.

BRIGHTON: So what you’re saying is we have no rights?

MAXWELL: None whatsoever.

BRIGHTON: Just checking.

MAXWELL AND THE KIDS EXIT TOWARD LIVING ROOM, FRAN AND NILES EXCHANGE A LOOK AND FOLLOW ALONG.

RESET TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM – CONTINUOUS

THE INSPECTORS ARE STANDING IN BUTLER POSITION, OBSERVING. SYLVIA IS SHOWING JACK AND MARSHA VARIOUS OBJECTS D’ART MAXWELL AND THE KIDS ENTER AND HEAD FOR THE STAIRS. FRAN AND NILES ENTER BEHIND THEM.

SYLVIA: This they picked up in Rome… This they picked up in the Orient… And this, isn’t this gorgeous? This they picked up for me.

SHE STICKS IT IN HER POCKET.

FRAN: Ma!

SYLVIA: But I already have one.

SYLVIA IMMEDIATELY PULLS IT OUT OF HER POCKET AND RETURNS IT TO IT’S ORIGINAL POSITION.

JACK: (TO SYLVIA) I am so parched.

MAXWELL PASSES BY.

JACK (CONT’D): You got something to drink?

MAXWELL: (AUTOMATICALLY) Niles!

JACK: (TO MAXWELL) Sorry. You got something to drink, Niles?

MARSHA: (RE: MAXWELL) Touchy, touchy.

THE INSPECTORS LOOK AT EACH OTHER.

STANTON/GEORGE: (DISAPPROVINGLY) Touchy.

THE INSPECTORS WRITE ON THEIR CLIPBOARDS.

STANTON: Just like the father.

THE INSPECTORS CLUCK THEIR TONGUES.

JACK: My Marsha knows how to run a household. She says jump, they go out on a ledge.

FRAN: (SOTTO, TO NILES) That’s how she lost her second husband.

STANTON: Well, I think we’ve seen enough.

MARSHA: (TO STANTON) You can’t really hod the butler responsible. After all, the help reflects the hostess.

MAXWELL: (BEAT, THEN TO JACK AND MARSHA) Will that be crushed ice or cubes?

BRIGHTON: All right Dad!! – (COVERING) e-o. My butler, with whom I have a cool kind of hepcat kind of beatnik kind of –

MAGGIE: Shut up, Brighton.

BRIGHTON: Thank you.

MAXWELL: My apologies for the momentary lapse. The bomb scare must have rattled my nerves. (TO INSPECTORS) They haven’t been the same since that unpleasantness in the Falklands.

GEORGE: You saw action too? Which ship were you on?

MAXWELL: The other one.

MAXWELL STARTS TOWARD KITCHEN.

BRIGHTON: Oh, Niles?

MAXWELL: Yes, Brighton.

BRIGHTON: That’s Master Brighton. While you’re at it, rustle me up some chips – I’m thinking onion and garlic – and a nice tall glass of soda. (TO MAGGIE AND GRACE) Ladies?

MAGGIE: Soda sounds good. And some cake.

GRACE: And ice cream. In the soda. With a crazy straw.

MAXWELL: Do you really think your father would approve of all these sweets in the middle of the day?

NILES: It’s not a problem for me.

MAGGIE: (TO NILES) You’re the coolest dad.

MAXWELL: She never says that to me.

FRAN: Of course not, you’re the butler.

MAXWELL: Right.

BRIGHTON: (TO MAXWELL) And while you’re out there, let’s lose those boots.

MAXWELL REACTS AND EXITS, FOLLOWED CLOSELY BY GEORGE.

FRAN: (PINCHING BRIGHTON’S CHEEKS) Is this a darling child or what? (SOTTO) Blow it and I’ll pinch your cheeks right off. (THEN, TO EVERYONE) He just got elected president of his class.

BRIGHTON: I believe in a place called “hope.” Where are my drinks?

BRIGHTON SNAPS HIS FINGERS.

SYLVIA: (RE: BRIGHTON) Smart as a whip, that one. He’s gonna be a real doctor. A doctor doctor.

BRIGHTON: A gynecologist.

MARSHA: How nice. You should see our Libby. Here she is at the equestrian center.

MARSHA SHOWS FRAN A PHOTO.

FRAN: (POINTING) Oh, beautiful smile.

MARSHA: That’s Lightning. There’s Libby.

FRAN: Oh look at her, she’s got your nose. The old one.

MARSHA LAUGHS WEAKLY. NOTE: AT SOME POINT DURING THE FOLLOWING, MARSHA WANDERS UPSTAIRS.

JACK: Max, why don’t we let the gals gab while I tell you about some exciting real estate opportunities in the greater Boca Raton area.

NILES: I really don’t think…

JACK: Wait, you’ll listen, you’ll decide. Prices have never been better thanks to Hurricane Andrew. Lotsa fixer-uppers.

JACK LEADS NILES OVER TO THE PIANO, TAKES A SKETCH OUT OF HIS POCKET AND GOES OVER IT. MAXWELL ENTERS FROM THE KITCHEN WITH A TRAY OF REFRESHMENTS, FOLLOWED CLOSELY BY GEORGE, TOO CLOSELY FOR MAXWELL’S COMFORT. NILES LOOKS OVER FROM WHERE JACK IS SHOWING HIM THE SKETCH.

NILES: Back so soon, Niles? (TO INSPECTORS) Speedy service, as always.

MAXWELL: Thank you, sir. It’s all part of being a good butler.

HE TRIPS ON THE EDGE OF THE RUG AND ALMOST GOES SPRAWLING, BUT MANAGES TO RECOVER HIS BALANCE AND MIRACULOUSLY KEEP WHAT’S LEFT OF THE REFRESHMENTS FROM SPILLING OFF THE TRAY.

NILES: (LAUGHING HEARTILY) He’s a master of physical comedy.

FRAN: He studied with Buster Keaton’s butler.

AS MAXWELL GIVES JACK HIS ICE, HE ACCIDENTALLY KNOCKS JACK’S GLASS OVER.

JACK: Hey! Schlemiel!

NILES: (LAUGHS HEARTILY, HOLDING HIS SIDES) Enough, Niles, you’re killing me.

MAXWELL QUICKLY SETS THE GLASS RIGHT AND MOPS UP.

BRIGHTON: Do that trick where you free up our trust funds.

MARSHA ENTERS DOWN THE STAIRS.

MARSHA: Fran, your master bedroom is to die for. All that closet space… (POINTEDLY) with none of your clothes.

MAXWELL: I sent them out to be dry cleaned.

MARSHA: All of them?

SYLVIA: They had to after the fire.

JACK: You just had a fire? I don’t see any damage.

FRAN: It was a closet fire. We contained it.

SFX: DOORBELL RINGS

FRAN/MAXWELL/NILES/SYLVIA: I’ll get it!

MAXWELL: I’m the butler, I’ll get it.

MAXWELL CROSSES TO ANSWER THE DOOR.

MARSHA: Oh no, you’re not fooling me for a minute. This entire marriage is a sham. (INDICATING FRAN AND NILES) You’re not sleeping in the same bedroom. Admit it.

FRAN: Okay, we’re not. But there’s a simple explanation (AT A LOSS) which is none of your business, ‘cause it’s private.

SYLVIA: Maxwell served in the Falklands. It’s a war wound.

GEORGE: I thought it was Niles who served in the Falklands.

SYLVIA: Oh, right. Maxwell’s a producer. It’s a theater wound.

FRAN: (INCREDULOUS) “Theater wound” Ma, is there oxygen on your planet?

MAXWELL CROSSES BACK WITH A TEN YEAR OLD CHILD.

MAXWELL: This is Master Crawford. He’s here to invite Brighton to an inaugural ball.

FRAN: (TO BRIGHTON) Oh, isn’t that nice, they’re throwing you a big bash. We’ll get your hair cut, but not on a runway.

CRAWFORD: The party’s for me. I’m the president. (INDICATING BRIGHTON) He’s just the eraser monitor.

MAGGIE: I knew no one would vote for you.

FRAN: (TO MAGGIE AND GRACE) Time for bed, girls, you’re getting cranky.

GRACE: It’s only three o’clock.

FRAN: You’ll read.

MAGGIE AND GRACE EXIT UP THE STAIRS. EVERYONE LOOKS AT BRIGHTON.

MAXWELL: Brighton?

BRIGHTON: Excuse me.

BRIGHTON RUNS INTO THE KITCHEN.

FRAN: Oh, Brighton.

FRAN FOLLOWS.

MAXWELL: Excuse me. At a time like this they may need… refreshments.

MAXWELL EXITS TO THE KITCHEN. STANTON AND GEORGE START TO FOLLOW, BUT NILES INTERCEPTS THEM, STEERING THEM AWAY.

NILES: Let me take this opportunity to tell you a little more about Niles. It’s hard to talk in front of him, praise embarrasses him so. Did I mention that he’s the greatest service professional of our time?

STANTON/GEORGE: Yes, you did.

NILES: Let’s pick up from there.

RESET TO:

INT. KITCHEN – CONTINUOUS

BRIGHTON: Everyone made such a big deal when I was running for president, I didn’t know how to tell you I lost.

FRAN: Aw, honey. Well at least you got nominated.

BRIGHTON: I nominated myself.

FRAN: Oh.

MAXWELL: Brighton, it doesn’t matter that you’re the (WITH DIFFICULTY) eraser monitor. I’d be proud of you even if you were the…

BRIGHTON: There’s nothing lower, Dad.

FRAN: Who needs to be the president? All that paperwork, meetings after school, responsibilities? Plus no one’s ever assassinated an eraser monitor.

MAXWELL: What Miss Fine is trying to say is… What exactly are you trying to say?

FRAN: Honey, we’re proud of you no matter what you do, as long as you do it well. You don’t have to pretend you’re something you’re not.

BRIGHTON: Isn’t that what you’re doing?

FRAN: (BEAT) Yes, as a matter of fact. And why doesn’t my mother think I’m good enough?

RESET TO:

INT. LIVING ROOM – CONTINUOUS

SYLVIA: Oh sure, they got their own Lear jet. They flew me to Pennsylvania for a Hershey.

JACK: (TO MARSHA) I’m lucky if you drive me to the dog track.

SYLVIA: Fran and I are more than mother and daughter. We’re like the best of friends.

FRAN ENTERS.

FRAN: Ma, why can’t you love me for what I am?

SYLVIA: Eighty-six it. I’ve got them eating out of my hand.

FRAN: Enough with the charade.

SYLVIA: Fran…

FRAN: Ma, let it go. It’s over. You were just like this with Perot. (TO JACK AND MARSHA) The truth is, I’m not married. This is not my house. I’m the nanny here. I work for Mr…

SHE POINTS AT MAXWELL, NILES WHIMPERS. SHE POINTS AT NILES.

FRAN(CONT'D): Sheffield.

NILES SIGHS, RELIEVED.

SYLVIA: (HOLDS HER STOMACH) Oy, there’s that asparagus spear, again.

MARSHA: (ECSTATIC) You’re just a nanny? Did you hear that, Daddy? She’s just a nanny.

MAXWELL: If I may speak as just the butler… Miss Fine is not just anything. She’s an essential part of this family. She’s transformed this house into a home, she’s done wonders with the children and I haven’t seen Mr. Sheffield this happy for a long time.

FRAN: Oh, that is the sweetest. Thank you, Mr. (CATCHES HERSELF) Niles.

STANTON: That was a very moving speech.

GEORGE: And totally inappropriate.

NILES: I’ll decide what’s inappropriate in my home. I like a bit of sentiment among the servants.

MARSHA: You hear that, Daddy? Servant.

JACK: Yeah. That must really hurt, Syl.

SYLVIA: Ah, shut up, Jack! I wouldn’t change Fran for all the Marshas in Miami. Now go get the car, I’ll meet you out front.

SYLVIA WALKS MARSHA AND JACK TO THE DOOR. FRAN FOLLOWS IN TOW.

FRAN: Ma, you’re the best.

THEY HUG.

SYLVIA: Meanwhile, don’t quit your job. Your boss has the hots for you.

FRAN: Ma!

SYLVIA: Me, I love you just the way you are, but your father’d like to see a ring on your finger.

SYLVIA EXITS.

STANTON: Well, we’ve seen all we need to see. (TO MAXWELL) Niles, we’d like to welcome you to the Professional Butlers Association.

MAXWELL: I don’t know what to say. I’m really rather touched.

CC ENTERS.

CC: Good afternoon, all.

FRAN: Oy.

CC CROSSES TO THE SOFA.

CC: (TO MAXWELL) I just had a fabulous conversation with our investors. I think I got us the St. James Theater for January.

MAXWELL: Wonderful. (TO NILES) Did you hear that, Mr. Sheffield?

NILES: Yes, I heard and I’m very excited.

CC: Mr. Sheffield? What is going on here?

SHE SEES THE MOUSE RIGHT NEXT TO HER ON THE BACK OF THE SOFA AND SCREAMS.

CC (CONT'D): Ahhh! I have to go! I have to go! Max, I’ll call you later.

NILES: Looking forward to it.

CC REACTS AND EXITS

FRAN: (TO NILES) Now that’s what I call karma.

FADE OUT.

END OF ACT TWO

---

Back to Title Page

---

Back to Main Page

---

Back to Library

---