Wishbone (1995) s01e07 Episode Script

What's the story, Wishbone?
What's this your dreaming of?
Such big imagination
on such a little part.
What's the story, Wishbone?
Do you think it's worth a look?
It kind of seems familiar
like a story from a book.
Shake a leg now, Wishbone.
Let's wag another time.
Tell, sniffing out adventure
with Wishbone on the trail.
Come on Wishbone.
What's the story, Wishbone?
Watch the story, Wishbone.
Watch the story, Wishbone.
Watch the story, Wishbone.
Watch the story, Wishbone.
What's the story, Wishbone?
Ellen?
This is it.
This is the sculpture I told you about.
Now, this represents a whole
new direction in my work.
This is a breakthrough for me.
And in a way, you're responsible.
I am?
Hmm, I do not like the looks of this.
Get down, Wishbone.
It was inspired by your dog.
Huh?
You're kidding. A statue
of a statue of this.
Me?
Really? A piece about Wishbone?
I didn't think he would
ever be a source of
great artistic inspiration
for you, Wanda.
Hey, I've inspired many
an artist in my time.
This piece is about coming to terms
with the savage instincts within myself.
The kind of instincts that lead this animal
to destroy my yard time and time again.
Oh.
I call it so
So
Unleashed!
It's the garag oil!
Ellen!
Run for your life!
Quickly!
It's, um
Very, uh
Interesting, Wanda.
I want you to have it.
It's not the kind of thing
I could sell to a stranger.
It's not the kind of thing
I could sell to a stranger,
but I can give it to a friend like you.
I can't let you do that.
I mean, um, well, it's
such a personal piece.
Don't you want to hold on to it?
The artist must learn to let go.
Besides, it's my tribute to your dog.
It belongs in your house.
Well, I, um
I'm speechless.
Coffee? How about some coffee?
You like it?
You like it.
Hmm, she's speechless, huh?
Maybe I ought to take
another look at this guy.
Hmm, from this angle, you
Hey, you're ferocious!
I like that.
With a face like that, you
don't back down, do you, buddy?
You've got a certain
Genesee Croix.
A certain something.
Something bold?
Something inspired?
Yes!
You are a certain
a lot like my personal
hero, Cirano de Bergerac.
Sirinot had the guts to stand alone.
He's the main character in a play
written by the French playwright
Edmund Rostin in 1898.
The story takes place in France in 1640.
Cirano is the best soldier and most
brilliant poet in all of Paris.
And he's also a great soldier in
most brilliant poet in all of Paris.
And he's also
in love with the beautiful Roxanne.
But he has one major problem.
Cyrano has an enormous nose,
the kind of nose that humans call ugly.
Excuse me, dogface,
but your nose is rather large.
My nose is rather large.
Rather large, you say?
Is that the best you can do?
Ha ha ha ha ha!
I do not need my sword
to teach you a lesson.
I have words.
Let me teach you how to
insult my nose, monsieur.
You could have said,
Your nose is so big you should call
a doctor and have it amputated.
Or
What do you carry around in that snout?
Your pens are your whole writing desk.
Ooh, how about this one?
Do you love the bird so much that
you let them perch on your nose?
But no!
The best you can come up with is
Your nose is rather large.
Well, ha ha ha!
Any fool can see that
my nose is rather large,
but your brain is rather small.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.
Thank you very much,
ladies and gentlemen.
You're a beautiful.
wonderful audience, really, really.
Well done, Cyrano.
Such daring, such wit.
You amaze me.
Why?
Thank you.
Believe me.
It was nothing.
Tomorrow we must speak privately.
I have certain things to tell you.
Meet me in the morning
at the pastry shop.
Good night, Monsieur.
The most beautiful woman
in Paris wants to see me?
Alone?
Is it possible?
could love me of the canine countenance.
Sir or no.
I have something to tell you.
But I don't know if I dare to say it.
Oh, go ahead. Dare.
Dare.
All right.
Yes, I dare.
Listen.
Yes.
I love someone.
Yes.
Someone who does not know.
Yes.
But he will know soon.
Yes.
The man I love is Veron Christian
the New Villette.
Yes!
No!
He is the most handsome
man that I have ever seen.
And I love him.
Wait a minute.
Have you ever talked to this guy?
No, we have never spoken.
But I can read his soul
in his beautiful face.
His head is covered with
the most glorious curls.
Hello?
What if there's nobody
home under the curls?
He must be as brilliant
as he is beautiful.
Well, I hope you two will be very happy.
But you must help us.
Oh, this is getting good. Pardon me?
Yes.
I want you to keep Christine from
getting into any fights or jewels.
You are the best soldier in Paris.
Cristin is in your regiment.
You must protect him.
You want me to watch out for curly locks.
Yes.
Please.
For my sake?
I will do anything for
your sake, Roxanne.
Thank you. Thank you.
I must go now. Adieu.
Bye.
I would never want Roxanne
to be disappointed.
Me and my big nose.
Today, we are going to begin a two-week
discussion of a very special subject.
Poetry.
Imagination is the soul of poetry,
according to Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
Coleridge wrote The Rhyme
of the Ancient Mariner,
which we'll study in this class.
It contains the famous line,
Water, water,
everywhere, but not a drop to drink.
Any questions?
David.
Can I get a drink of water?
There. You see a drink of water?
See? Coleridge described thirst in
such a way that made David thirsty.
Tomorrow's assignment is one
that I encourage you to enjoy.
I want each of you to
write an original poem.
It doesn't have to rhyme.
Doesn't have to be of
any particular length.
Choose a subject for which
you have strong feelings
and then let your
imagination rule the day.
Write a poem?
Wait a minute.
Mr. Pruitt?
Mr. Pruitt, did you say
we had to write a poem?
Yes.
Um, I can't.
Don't worry, David. Just give it a try.
Do we really have to write a poem?
Yep.
But how?
Great shot, Mom.
I don't see why we have to
do this poetry stuff anyway.
It doesn't make any sense.
Well, poetry can be fun, David.
It's a way to play with words.
I can't do it.
I just don't know how to make up poetry.
Everyone has a poet within, David.
Ooh, nice shot, though.
Besides, you're such a good student.
I'm sure you'll do fine.
This is an opportunity
to express yourself.
Express myself?
Yes.
You just need to get inspired.
and then run with it.
Poetry is food for the soul.
Mmm, yes, food for the soul.
Kostien, we are alone at last.
Let me feast upon the
beauty of your words.
Speak.
I love you.
Tell me of your love.
I love you.
Yes, that's your subject.
Expand upon it.
I love you.
So.
You give me water when I ask for cream.
Where's the poetry?
Where are the beautiful
words to feed my soul?
But
I love you.
You.
Your words do not move me.
Adieu.
But
But
But
Oh boy.
Well, congratulations, Christian.
A brilliant success.
I need help.
No kidding.
If only I had your wit.
Yeah.
If only I had your looks.
Hey.
I've got it.
It's dark enough to hide.
You.
You stand under the balcony, and I'll
give you the words to win Roxanne.
Thank you.
I gotta be out of my mind.
Who's there?
It is I. Christian.
You have nothing to say to me.
Your love has gone with your words.
Okay, okay. My love is
born in new every day.
It rises with the sun.
My love.
My love is born anew every
day and rises with the sun.
It should die for lack of eloquence.
Ouch.
Okay, I tried to kill it, but
it has the strength of Hercules.
I tried to kill it, but it
has the strength of Hercules.
That's better.
Please continue.
This is too hard.
All right, then let me do the talking.
Why do you hesitate?
Has your imagination left you?
Uh
My words grope through the
darkness to reach your ears.
And if you let a harsh word drop
from that height, it will crush me.
Then I will come down to you.
No, no, no!
Why not?
Stay on your perch. You
must give me your oath.
For, though we continue to stand apart,
the dark veil of night
that covers us both
allows me to speak the words in my heart.
You sound different.
Your words please and my heart.
me.
The very name, Roxanne,
rings in my heart every day.
I love everything about
you and forget nothing.
What do you want of me?
A kiss.
Oh, what?
Hey, not so fast, muscle boy!
A kiss!
Yes!
Come up and you shall have it!
No wait. Christian.
Christian!
Come back here. Christian!
Figures.
I do the work. He gets the work.
And the kiss.
Major, major, major bummer.
Becaboo!
Hey, anybody here?
Joe! What's up, pal?
Ooh, heavy sigh.
I don't know what to write.
Bummer.
He's you.
He scores!
That's it.
That's what?
Alright.
Okay, wait, hold on, Mom.
Dad, can I have dinner
at Moms on Wednesday?
Sure. No, wait. No, that's soccer night.
Well, I can't on Wednesday,
but Thursday's fine.
Okay. I'll see you then. Bye.
Sam, can we talk about
Saturday's plan for a minute?
I'm sorry, Dad, I can't do
any more scheduling right now.
I have to write this poem for tomorrow.
Okay, okay.
Don't want to disturb the poet.
David, this is yours.
Look, I've got homework to do, okay?
But it has your name on it.
Where'd you get it?
On the front porch.
For David, may you be inspired?
Does this mean you have a girlfriend?
Yeah, right. I don't even
know who's sent it, okay?
David's got a girlfriend.
David's got a girlfriend.
Very good job, Stacy.
All right, who's next?
Joe.
It's called basketball.
When I get the ball, I really come alive.
I look for a hole and dribble and drive.
If a defensive player gets in
my face, a fall away jumper,
puts them in their place.
The taller they come, the more I'm keyed.
They got the height, but I got the speed.
Very good. Very good, Joe.
Couplets.
Huh?
Pares of rhyming lines.
All right, who's next?
Samantha.
Mine doesn't rhyme. You said
No, it doesn't have to.
It's called My Two Homes.
Most people have one
home, but I have two.
One is my mother's and
one is my father's.
But both are mine.
You might think I'm
lucky, but it's not easy.
To learn two sets of rules, or
to keep two bedrooms picked up.
My dad works at home,
so he's always there,
and the house feels cozy and lived in.
My mom travels, so her house
is mostly neat and empty.
I love both houses, and I wish
I could live in both at once,
so I could call myself in the telephone.
That's very good.
Now, most poems create a world.
In that poem, Samantha,
you created two worlds.
That was very good.
Thanks, but I didn't have to
create him. They're already there.
All right. Who's next?
David.
It's called Birds of Myrots.
My backyard by David Barnes.
Oh, swift, swift, swift,
swift, see the tree robin, lake
robin, cat robin, evening
robin, from light to gloom.
My heart is the light, the glide, just to
the side of the roof is sided to a week.
The gloom is my fear, the rush, the thrush,
the kingbird hiding in the rose bush.
But I resign my heart when all is done.
Resign it to its real master,
the bright one, the blue jay.
The blamishment is over.
David!
We're all quite stunned.
You actually created
the feeling of and the
sound of, and the sound
of flapping wings.
Swift, swift, swift, swift, swift.
Amazing.
And you used internal rhyme.
David, I want to publish your poem.
Would you mind?
Mom, Mom, Mom, guess what?
Mr. Pooh is going to
publish David's poem.
Well, David, that's wonderful.
And you were so worried that
you couldn't write a poem.
Yeah.
Hey, I'll bet you'll
even get paid for it.
Maybe.
Yeah.
Hey, what's a rufus-sided towing anyway?
Well, it's, you know, it's a bird.
Huh?
What'd you come up with the idea?
Well, I just, um, well, I didn't.
Oh, no.
What?
I didn't write the poem.
Well, if he didn't
write the poem, he did.
I don't know, but I didn't.
Great.
My mom's going to kill me.
Mr. Pruitt, he's going to flunk me.
Mr. Tau, what should I do?
Well, I think you know
what you have to do, David?
Yeah, I've got to go tell him.
Good for you, David.
The truth always comes out.
Cyrano and Christian are
in the same regiment,
and they are called away to war together
right after Roxanne and Christian
have their meeting on the balcony.
While they are at war,
Cyrano writes beautiful
letters to Roxanne.
Of course, he signs.
Christians' name to
them, the letters are so
moving that she decides
she must see Christian,
even if she has to go to the battlefield.
After reading all of your beautiful letters,
I had to see you. I had to tell you.
My letters?
Yes, of course. These letters
have breathed your soul into me.
My soul?
My soul?
At first, I loved you because
of your handsome face.
Please forgive me.
Now I love you for your soul,
for what you have on the inside.
Do you mean that?
You really don't care what I'd look like?
I would love you even if you
were the ugliest man alive.
Oh, no.
Roxanne.
Roxanne, wake here.
Cyrano.
Christian, there you are.
This is a letter that I wrote
for you to give to Roxanne.
Here.
Yeah.
Take it to her.
Serenow.
Roxanne loves you, not me.
Impossible!
She loves the person
who wrote the letters.
She said that she would
love me even if I were ugly.
She said that?
Yes.
She must decide who she really loves.
Me for my handsome face,
or you for your beautiful soul.
Tell her that you wrote the letters.
Tell her now.
Well, okay, cover for me.
Sir, no.
Roxanne, there's something
I have to ask you.
Did you tell Christian that you
would love him even if he were ugly?
Yes.
I would love him even if he had
Had the face of a dog?
Yes, even then.
Oh, boy.
Should I tell her the truth?
What was that?
Uh-oh.
So close.
This is bad.
Stay here.
Oh, no.
It's Christian.
Christian, my love.
Ruth said, I
I
The last letter he wrote.
A piece of his soul for me.
She believes that Christian
wrote the letters.
I can't tell her now it was me.
She'd be so disappointed.
He was a great.
poet, a magnificent soul.
But David, I called my friend last
night about publishing your poem.
He is very interested.
Uh, it's not my poem, Mr. Pruitt.
What?
I didn't write it. It's not my poem.
You didn't?
I'm disappointed, David.
You still have to make up the assignment.
You still have to make up the assignment.
Oh, I wrote a poem last night.
Well, good.
Please read it for the class.
It's called The Thrill of Discovery.
When I got this assignment,
I didn't want to do it.
But it so happens that my teacher
is this guy named Mr. Pruitt.
He says, try.
I like the word try.
I'm more at home in the lab, but it's
still invention, so I'll give it a stab.
To imagine what I'm a stab.
To imagine,
What might be is the only way to start.
I guess that's why good poetry
has to come from the heart.
Good.
An honest effort, David.
That was really good, David.
Thanks.
Yeah, way to go.
David, about that other poem,
The Birds of My Backyard.
If you didn't write it, who did?
I don't know. Somebody left
it for me on the front porch.
I don't know who wrote it.
I must.
find out who wrote that poem.
I think I can help.
Yeah.
Ah, poetry.
Which phone? That's a poet.
You got it!
Supernows to the rescue!
Miss Gilmore? Of course,
it has to be her.
Her?
Yeah, she was there the other day
when we were talking about it.
I must meet this poet.
One dollar.
Good boy, which phone?
Just doing my job.
Oh, oh, excuse me.
Yes?
Did you write this poem?
The birds of my backyard?
Did I what?
I want to publish it.
What?
Your poem. I want to publish it.
It's brilliant.
Really?
It's absolutely wonderful.
But you think it's any good?
It reminds me.
of T.S. Eliot.
My favorite poet.
I think she likes you.
Mine too.
The truth comes out.
A poet revealed.
Cyrano.
It takes 15 long years before Roxanne
finds out the truth about her poet.
So, it was you all along.
It was you who wrote this letter.
Not Christian.
It was you who wrote all the letters.
It is your soul that I have loved.
And I didn't know it.
Why didn't you tell me?
I couldn't.
Not after Christian's death.
So you have loved me all this time.
You love me even now.
Oh!
Wow.
Wow.
Better late than never.
Good boy, Wishbone.
You know, Mr. Pruitt, I mean Bob.
I'm also a visual artist.
Oh, I would love to
see your work sometime.
Joe, could we go over to
your house so I could show
So Unleashed to Bob?
Sure. Let's go, Wishbone.
Follow me all you happy people.
Poetry and motion.
Poetry and motion.
It's a beautiful thing, don't you think?