The Golden Girls (1985) s02e04 Episode Script

Hi, Ma.
How did you do? - I got 35 people to sign up.
- That's great.
Wait, Ma, three of these people are dead.
Who are they gonna tell? - Hi.
- Hi, Blanche.
There you go.
You've been gone three hours and you only got one guy to sign? Give me a chance to freshen up.
I'll get you another one.
Girls.
I've got some bad news.
I couldn't get Mrs Claxton to sign the petition.
That tree's on her property.
If she doesn't sign, the city will chop the tree down.
It doesn't make sense.
Why would she wanna cut down that 200-year-old oak? Because Frieda Claxton is a miserable, vile, scum-sucking crank who gives nice old ladies like me a bad name.
Believe me, she's a totally rotten human being.
There is no such a thing as a rotten human being.
There's good in everybody.
I agree with Sophia.
Mrs Claxton is a mean old woman.
- All the neighbours hate her.
- Don't say that.
Come on.
Last Halloween, half the kids in the neighbourhood wore Frieda Claxton costumes.
Maybe she just needs to be shown some kindness, like a fellow I knew back home.
Ernest Minky.
I'm suddenly so hungry.
I'll get some food.
Boy, that was a close call.
One more story about the colourful people from St Olaf, and I'll explode.
- He was St Olaf's librarian.
- Kaboom.
He was also our town's only dentist.
His office was in the library.
He did both jobs at the same time.
Everyone hated Minky.
He seemed to enjoy giving other people pain.
They hated him so much, nobody ever went to the dentist or the library.
In 1938, you could tell if someone was from St Olaf.
They were illiterate and they had teeth that looked like Indian corn.
Thank you, Rose.
That was a wonderful story.
I'm only half done.
I passed a kidney stone once that was less painful than this.
One summer, I worked up enough nerve to check out the latest Nancy Drew mystery and Mr Minky was stamping my book and his tie caught in the stamping machine.
He'd have died, if I hadn't cut his tie with my Girl Scout knife.
He was so grateful, he checked my book out for a week.
- What's so special about that? - Usually it was for an hour.
Mr Minky always said, "Books belong in a library.
" Really? 'Cause I always thought Churchill said that at Yalta.
The point is, some people seem mean but just need a little kindness.
And some people, like old lady Claxton, are just plain rotten.
I'm gonna prove you all wrong.
There is a week left before the commissioners' meeting.
I'll be as nice as I can.
I bet, by then, she'll be as anxious to save that tree as us.
Hello, Mrs Claxton? This is Rose Nylund.
How are you? I've never sat on one before, but wouldn't that be painful? Sophia, Forget it.
We can't do that.
- Why not? - Because stapling a $20 bill to the petition is illegal.
It's bribery.
Don't say that's how you got things done in Sicily.
That's not how we got things done in Sicily.
Bribery was how we got things done in New York.
In Sicily, you cut off a horse's head and put it in somebody's bed.
- Sophia, you're making that up.
- Like hell.
Our garbage commissioner, Fredo Lombardy, went on strike once.
He woke up the next morning sharing a pillow with National Velvet.
At 7.
00am, he was out cleaning the street with his tongue.
Sophia, we live in the greatest country in the world.
A country founded on the principles of honesty, truth and fairness.
I'm certain that, once we present our petition, the democratic system will prevail.
And our noble effort to save that mighty oak will prove victorious.
- You certainly sound pretty confident.
- She slept with two commissioners.
That works in Sicily and New York.
Girls, I've got great news.
I've just come from Mrs Claxton's and she says she wants to save the tree.
- You're kidding.
- How did you manage that? Persistence.
I have gone to her house every day with home-made Danish, begging her.
She didn't want the apricot nor the cheese, but the prune did the trick.
Always does for me.
After she snarfed down two, she said she'd save the tree.
Speak of the devil, here's the miserable witch.
Sophia Mrs Claxton, how lovely to see you again.
Who are you? Your neighbour, Blanche Devereaux.
Yeah.
I didn't recognise you with your clothes on.
I beg your pardon? With my binoculars, I have a terrific view in your bedroom window.
Some of the stuff you do must be illegal.
I'm looking into it.
Why, you miserable old Let's try to get along.
Mrs Claxton, I don't know if you remember me.
Dorothy Zbornak.
Sure.
You're the one with nothing going on in your bedroom.
- Why, you miserable old - Dorothy.
Mrs Claxton, we want you to know we all appreciate you helping us to save the tree.
I'm not.
I'm here to make sure they tear it down.
I hate trees.
And people.
Rose told us you said you would help us.
- That's right.
- Now you're not? - Why did you lie? - To get the Danish.
Look, there's nothing I hate more than someone who thinks everyone who lives alone wants company and a few kind words.
I live alone because I like it.
I've no use for people.
Never have.
See you inside.
- Where are you going? - To throw holy water on her.
If her head spins around, we're in big trouble.
It is the consensus of the committee that the promoters' petition for the outdoor concert be denied.
Next on the agenda is the proposal to widen Richmond Street.
Will the representative of those wanting to block this step forward? - Wish me luck.
- Wait.
Why should you do it? Because we'll have a better chance.
I happen to be a wonderful orator.
Two of the commissioners can verify that.
Blanche, "orator" means "speaker".
Really? Somebody else do the talking.
- Ladies, we're waiting.
- Let me save everyone time.
My name is Frieda Claxton.
The tree is on my property and I don't care if the city wants to cut it down.
they've all signed to save the tree.
Concrete's cleaner.
- They'll get used to it.
- Mrs Claxton, please.
I have pictures of it to show you.
You wanna look at pictures? I've got pictures.
Of her roommate, the human slinky.
Shut up, Claxton.
Were there any other faces recognisable in those pictures? You shut up too, Ed.
Stop wasting the taxpayers' money.
Yank out that tree and start pouring cement.
Mrs Claxton, think about what you're doing.
That beautiful old tree is 200 years old.
How can you hate a living thing? I hate you.
That's it.
I have had all I'm gonna take from you.
If you don't have the common decency to treat people like human beings, then I'm not gonna waste my time kissing your fanny.
If you don't like it, Mrs Claxton, you sit there and shut up while we have our say.
If you don't like it, drop dead.
Go on, Dorothy.
- What happened? - You know you said, "Drop dead"? - Yes.
- I think she did.
Why do people die, Dorothy? Rose, please.
I don't even know why fools fall in love.
I killed her.
I might as well have shot her with a gun.
Honey, the woman was 83.
She had a heart attack.
It was coincidence.
You haven't slept for two days.
Stop torturing yourself.
I guess you're right.
- Rose, you can't sleep again? - No.
Rose, you have to put this behind you.
You killed Mrs Claxton two days ago.
Blanche.
I mean she died two days ago.
Rose knows she didn't do anything.
She's just upset.
Go to her funeral, have a good cry.
You'll feel better.
There won't be a funeral.
Mrs Claxton didn't have any friends or relatives.
She'll be buried in an unmarked grave in a potter's field.
That's too bad.
Is there any more cheesecake? Blanche, how can you be so callous? Sorry, but I won't pretend to be in mourning.
Mrs Claxton worked overtime at being a nasty woman.
Blanche is right.
That's why nobody wants to go to her funeral.
How would you feel if you dropped dead and nobody showed up at your funeral? It's probably a personal thing, but for me, I think dropping dead would be the bigger disappointment.
There'll be tons of people at mine.
How can you be sure? I was at my funeral at 16.
I saw it all.
What? My hormones were racing, my body was blossoming.
I had urges and yearnings so strong.
Sometimes I'd wake up in the night, sweating and screaming and clawing, like a trapped panther.
Unable to release the lusty, steamy passions that constantly threatened to erupt from within me.
When I was 16, I had acne and played the accordion in a marching band.
Nothing seemed to go right that year.
But the final indignity occurred during the Miss Magnolia Blossom Pageant.
Instead of awarding me the crown as the most beautiful girl in the county, they made me runner-up.
And awarded me Miss Congeniality instead.
At that moment, I vowed to make that town pay for valuing my personality over my perfect body.
I hear Vanna White has the same problem.
I decided to kill myself to teach that town a lesson.
I phonied-up my death in a riverboat accident.
I had the captain, who I was seeing after school, help me.
Everything went perfectly.
The town had never seen a funeral like mine.
Hundreds of people, beautiful eulogies.
Then, just as the minister was getting everybody in a frenzy of grieving, I rushed out and said, "Yoo-hoo.
It's me, Blanche.
I'm not really dead.
" The next thing I knew, my daddy was horse-whipping that riverboat captain and dragging me off to a religious girls' school in Atlanta.
My daddy didn't get angry, but when he was, he was a real peckerwood.
What's everybody talking about? I can honestly say I have no idea.
We started out talking about Mrs Claxton's funeral.
But somewhere along the way, we segued into Blanche, The Miniseries.
When's her funeral? I wanna pay my respects.
- But I thought you hated her.
- I did.
You go to a funeral to show the man upstairs your respect for human life, no matter how wretched.
Any idiot knows that.
- I knew that.
- See? Mrs Claxton won't have a funeral.
She had no friends and no relatives.
- We'll pop for her funeral.
- Why? To show the man upstairs that we have some regard for human life.
No, it's a Sicilian custom.
It's good luck to bury somebody you hate.
You're not fooling me.
You feel bad because Mrs Claxton didn't have anybody.
Maybe I do.
What's it to you? - You're right.
I'll chip in.
- Sophia, count me in, too.
Sophia, I think you're a wonderful person.
It's a lovely idea to share Mrs Claxton's funeral expenses equally.
I figure your share should be half.
After all, you're the one who killed her.
- Let's get this over with.
- Try to calm down.
Funeral homes give me the willies.
That's why I've avoided them.
I've only been to two funerals and I'm 45.
You're such a liar.
Alright, then, three funerals.
The point is, let's hurry up and go.
- Hello.
- I'm alright, I'm fine.
Excuse her.
Funeral homes make her nervous.
They used to make me nervous, too.
At funeral homes, all they talk about is caskets and burials.
At Forever Peaceful, we've got rid of all that death stuff.
Are you running a sushi bar? Come this way.
This is our slumber chamber.
And here's my card.
How may I be of service to you? - Mr Pfeiffer.
- That's Pfeiffer, no silent P.
Mr Pfeiffer.
We're interested in arranging a funeral.
Isn't that lovely? The three of you planning for Mother.
Pfeiffer, how would you like a punch in your p-face? The funeral is for a neighbour.
- My condolences.
- No need.
We didn't like her.
The whole neighbourhood despised her.
- How did she pass on? - She killed her.
Rough neighbourhood.
Look, Mr Pfeiffer About the p-funeral.
About the About the funeral arrangements, we'd like something simple, - tasteful, yet incredibly cheap.
OK.
Let's get down to brass handles.
Ladies, I'd like to present to you the winner of the 1985 Casket Design Award.
Paris has been talking about it.
- It's the Omega 3,000.
- How much? That top is hand-embellished gold-leaf detail work.
The satin interior is imported from a textile mill outside Gstaad.
- How much? - It's also lead-lined We're not burying Superman.
How much? - $6,000.
- My first house cost less.
Mr Pfeiffer, we have already told you we are bereaved on a budget.
Now, if you can't accommodate us, we'll find someone who can.
You know, the Avanti Supreme is a big seller.
- That retails for just $3,000.
- What's this one? - A pine box.
- How much? - $200.
- Sold.
When would you like the services? - I don't know.
- Thursday night? - Thursday night.
- Not Thursday.
Hell, no.
I'm sorry, I forgot.
The Cosby Show.
- How about Friday? - You have a TV guide? - Friday will be fine.
- Thank you.
As long as you're here, have you thought about your own final farewell? I intend to go out with a bang.
And she means that.
My God, this is terrible.
Such a tragedy, such a tragedy.
Ma, try not to upset yourself.
Two men on, the bottom of the ninth.
That botcher hasn't bunked.
Give me that.
I'm tired of sitting here.
Let's go.
I can't believe it.
There was an announcement in the paper.
Her friends must have realised she died.
Why didn't they come? They were too busy celebrating.
You go ahead, I just wanna sit here a while longer.
I hope I'm not too late for the funeral.
Why, no.
- No, not at all.
- Thank goodness.
I'd have felt terrible if I'd missed it.
She was one of my dearest friends.
Hear that? One of her dearest friends.
Yes.
Oh, my.
We've been friends for nearly 60 years.
Would you mind saying a few words? Me? Mind? I'd be happy to.
Up here? Today is a day of great sadness.
Not only for me, but also for the people whose lives have been touched by the warmth and the kindness of this woman who is lying here.
I wish I knew how many charities and hospitals and orphanages have benefited from her generosity.
But now, no-one will ever know.
Because she preferred to do all of her good work anonymously.
I'm sure a lot of people never even knew that she worked for 15 years in a leper colony.
Yes, Celia Rubinstein loved all mankind.
- She was - Who? Celia Rubinstein.
This funeral isn't for Celia Rubinstein.
It's for Frieda Claxton.
The Rubinstein funeral's down the hall.
I'm so sorry for the intrusion.
Frieda Claxton? Didn't she own that old house on Richmond Street? Yes.
You were all right.
Frieda Claxton didn't have a friend in the world.
She didn't make any difference to anybody.
She might as well never even have existed.
- Rose, honey.
- Let her be by herself.
This has been a hell of a night.
I'm glad it's over.
At least we've done the right thing.
Mrs Claxton is in somebody else's hands now.
I'm afraid for the moment she's in mine.
- What? - There was a mix-up out back.
Mrs Claxton was cremated by mistake.
We never should have hired a high-school student.
Whatever.
Ladies.
You're forgetting something.
Mrs Claxton.
We can't keep her.
- Morning, Blanche.
- I wanna ask you something.
Last night, at two in the morning, did you hear shrieking and screaming? No, but usually, if your door's closed, I can't hear anything.
Not me.
Those sounds were coming from that urn with Mrs Claxton in it.
Blanche, you were dreaming.
This house is possessed by her spirit.
- Morning.
- Last night, at two o'clock, did you hear some awful, ghastly sounds? Heard 'em? I made 'em.
There's a reason for expiration dates on cottage cheese.
My kingdom for an Alka-Seltzer.
Girls, I have great news.
I've found a resting place for Mrs Claxton.
You found one of her relatives? I spread her ashes round the tree in front of her house.
- What on earth for? - To prove her life had meaning.
- As fertiliser? - No.
After I spread the ashes and said a prayer, I went to City Hall and told them.
I said it might not be such a good idea to disturb a person's resting place.
They're not going to cut the tree down.
Rose, that's lovely.
Odd, but lovely.
Girls, come look at the tree.
Isn't it breathtaking? - It sure is.
- It's always gonna be there.
All because of Mrs Claxton.
I guess you were right all along, Rose.
Mrs Claxton did have a reason for being here.
- That tree will be a reminder.
- Reminder? Reminder to do something nice whenever I can for somebody else.
I want my life to have meaning while I'm still living.
- What are you all looking at? - That beautiful old oak tree.
Mrs Claxton's spirit's part of that tree now.
That's really lovely.
It's touching how that Great Dane is paying its respects.