The Golden Girls (1985) s02e12 Episode Script

Hi, Ma.
Aren't you going to ask me why I'm sitting in the dark? I know.
Your birthday's this weekend and you're depressed about being older.
No.
I'm depressed because you give me such lousy birthday presents.
Ma, you want better presents, adopt Monty Hall.
I wish I could.
Jewish sons are the best.
They give great gifts, always call, and you don't have to worry about them getting hurt playing sports.
Ma, trust me.
You are going to love your present.
- What is it? - You'll find out Saturday.
I'm old.
I could die before I see it.
You'd feel terrible.
Of course I would.
I got it on sale.
I can't return it.
We just went shopping for Sophia's party.
That's what I want to talk about.
It's hard finding a present.
- What are you getting? - I'd rather not say.
- A surprise.
- You know what it is? That's right.
How come I don't get to know? Rose.
How can I say this diplomatically? You're a blabbermouth, Rose.
You're a blabbermouth.
OK, so I made one little slip.
So I told Harriet Webster you had your ears pinned back in college.
Dorothy, you had your ears pinned back.
What did they use, a big ear stapler? OK, so I made a few little slips.
But I can keep a secret.
I'll prove it to you.
If I spill the beans, I'll give you my most prized possession.
No, Rose, I couldn't do that.
I couldn't accept your favourite album, Hans Klabnermeyer Yodels Beethoven.
Actually, I am going to tell you what I'm getting Ma, because I need your help.
Wait.
My nose.
Ma, quit listening at the door.
I'm flying my mother's sister Angela over from Sicily.
And she's bringing the surprise? Rose, she is the surprise.
They haven't seen each other since Angela moved back to Sicily That's a wonderful surprise.
I need your help to set up the party and keep Ma out of the house while I pick up Angela.
Ma, get away from the back door.
Have you got eyes in the back of your head? Ma, why can't you just relax and enjoy your surprise? Because the last surprise I got was walking in on cousin Vito parading around in my girdle.
You're going to love this one, Sophia.
You know what it is? What about the blabbermouth, does she know? Maybe.
She knows.
Rose, after dinner, what do you say we ride over to the Dairy Queen for chocolate cones? My treat.
With rainbow sprinkles? They're five cents extra.
What the hell? I'm a sport.
Are you still here? Dorothy's due back with Angela.
Sophia keeps finding excuses not to go shopping.
I'm ready, Rose.
Sophia, what's the matter? I saw the doctor yesterday and he I can't talk about it.
Let's go.
Wait a minute.
What is it? You dragged it out of me.
My heart is a time bomb.
But don't be concerned.
Even though I've only made love in one position, I've led a very full life.
- Let's go.
- Wait a minute.
Isn't there something we can do? He says any little shock or surprise and it's kaboom.
I guess all we can do is pray.
Unless you know of any surprises, Rose? Sophia, now, you stop trying to trick Rose, just because she's weak and vulnerable and dim-witted.
Yeah.
OK, Blanche, I give up.
Rose, let's go shopping.
Sorry you got stuck shopping with me.
I realise Dorothy is forcing you.
- No, she isn't.
- Yes, she is.
She always takes terrible advantage of you, Rose.
- We should go.
- Wait.
Listen.
At the movies, who always stands in line for the popcorn? I do.
- Who always lifts up furniture? - I do.
When we clean the kitchen, who always mops? - Dorothy.
- Who cleans the mop? I do.
She takes advantage, Rose, and it's time you stood up to her.
There's no time like the present.
Speaking of presents Rose, what are you doing here? I asked you to take Ma shopping.
Take your mop and put it where herring don't swim.
I was this close.
Dorothy, you're home.
Where's Angela? Still out in the car.
Aunt Angela, you were supposed to wait in the car.
- Did anyone see you? - Relax.
Somebody passed by and I made like I was a lawn jockey.
I think it worked.
His dog tried to pee on me.
Aunt Angela, please meet my dear friend Blanche.
Blanche, this is my Aunt Angela.
Pleasure to meet you.
Shall I get Angela's luggage? - She doesn't have any luggage.
- I never travel with luggage.
Ever since I found a dead man in my suitcase.
You found a dead man in your suitcase? Right.
Picture it.
New York City.
1956.
I was a young widow returning to Sicily.
There I was on the boat alone, watching Lady Liberty grow smaller in the distance.
When suddenly I heard a voice from the vicinity of my knees.
I looked down.
There was a midget.
It turns out that his name was Peewee Bonbunzi, and he was fleeing from the Mob.
For the next few days, we ate together, laughed together, and went for short walks in circles.
And then, one day, suddenly Peewee disappeared.
We docked in Sicily.
I was going through customs.
I noticed a strange odour coming from my suitcase.
I thought it was the veal shank I was bringing for Mother's Day.
But when the customs man opened the suitcase, there was Peewee.
Someone had stuffed him in my suitcase between the veal shank and my beaver coat.
The Mob had gotten Peewee after all.
You must have been heartbroken.
I was absolutely devastated.
I mean, first I had to burn the suitcase and then the beaver coat.
And the veal shank never did taste right.
Aunt Angela, you made that up.
I'm 80.
As long as I keep talking, I know my heart is still beating.
Angela, may I offer you something to eat? As long as it isn't veal.
It's not because of Peewee.
I had some on the plane.
Ma, what are you doing home? My shopping list is in the kitchen.
There you are, Sophia.
She outsmarted me, Dorothy.
You're kidding.
I mean, how is that possible? It wasn't my fault.
We were backing down the driveway and Sophia said I ran over Mrs Stofer.
And you believed her? I had to check.
Last week I pinned her to the fence on a right turn.
I'll get my shopping list.
I have your shopping list.
Everyone is happy with the possible exception of Mrs Stofer.
Enjoy your shopping.
Why don't I show Angela where she'll be staying? Get yourself settled and then we'll catch up on family.
OK.
You know, Blanche here could be the identical twin of your cousin Apollonia.
Apollonia was a stunningly beautiful woman.
Thank you.
Except for that huge donkey butt.
Hi, Ma, are you having fun? No, give me my present.
Not until after we slice my looks-like-chocolate, tastes-like-spice, you'Il-wish-you-had- a-bigger-slice marble cake.
- Know where it got its name? - No, give me my present.
I'll go get the candles.
Rose, I've got to congratulate you.
You made it without giving away my present.
You stop trying to make me tell you.
Relax, Rose.
Dorothy already told me what it is.
- She did? - Yeah, what a present.
Boy, was I surprised.
Dorothy, I didn't know you'd already told Sophia her surprise was Rose.
All right, Ma.
You'll get your present right now.
I give up.
You win.
You always win.
I know.
Me and Mighty Mouse.
All right, everybody, gather round.
My daughter is about to give me my big birthday surprise.
I just want to say happy birthday to my mother, whom I love very, very much.
And I just hope that you love this present as much as I love giving it to you.
OK, Blanche.
Angela? No, Gina Lollobrigida.
This is my surprise? Yes.
- Happy birthday, Ma.
- Happy birthday? You call this old bag a present? You brought me all the way from Sicily to be insulted? I hate that woman.
I hate her double.
- Did you get 'em talking? - Nope.
I just spent a half hour out in the hall talking to two closed doors.
Don't feel bad.
Sometimes I talk to the little pigs on my shower curtain.
I was trying to talk to my mother and Aunt Angela.
But they wouldn't talk to me or each other.
I have no idea what this is about.
There's only one thing that turns relatives into enemies.
Jealousy.
I ought to know.
You see, I was a devastatingly beautiful child.
Pink cheeks, cute little button nose, red ruby lips, adorable, little ringlet curls.
I was the tallest baby in the history of New York and had a rash on my head till I was two.
My sister Charmaine was insanely jealous of me from when I was a gorgeous little infant.
She was one year ahead and we'd compete for everything.
But there was one thing Charmaine did excel at.
Cheerleading.
Not only could she twirl that baton like a propeller, but knew every cheer in the county.
And she could twist her body into the shape of an R.
Charmaine decided it was her turn in the spotlight.
She challenged me to compete against her for captain of the cheerleading squad.
We had to perform in front of the entire school, and Charmaine was fantastic.
She twirled those batons so fast, she looked like a DC3 coming in for a landing.
Then it was my turn.
So I did some cartwheels and only fell once.
I did a handstand and almost got my balance.
And I only dropped my baton four times.
And when I was finished, I was unanimously voted captain of the cheerleading squad.
Blanche, how was that possible? Underneath my regulation uniform, I was wearing little, black French lace panties.
Bearing the words "bonjour".
Or was it "bon appétit"? I don't remember.
Anyway, it was something in French.
I guess, nobody minded I couldn't do a handstand, but they surely did appreciate me trying.
I don't understand.
Blanche, just once, why couldn't you let your sister win? I told you.
Jealousy is a terrible thing.
That'll teach Charmaine to be Daddy's favourite.
Girls, there is only one way we're going to solve this problem.
We have to find out what Sophia and Angela are mad about.
And then force them to settle it.
It's like that old Scandinavian saying.
"You can let two angry mackerel fight it out in a purse, but don't plan on carrying that purse to a formal affair.
" It loses a little in the Translation.
But the point of it is, it's human nature to want to make up.
People stay angry out of habit.
If we can just get Angela and Sophia to talk, they'll do the rest.
- Sounds logical to me.
- To me, too.
But don't forget we're dealing with two old women who think that boils on a man are a sign of virility.
I mean, logic doesn't exactly apply here.
- At least we can give it a try.
- Rose is right.
You take Angela, we'll take Sophia.
Fine.
At this point I'll try anything.
I thought it was the size of a man's feet that were a sign of virility.
I thought it was the number of newspapers piled outside the motel room door.
Aunt Angela, please.
We have to talk.
What's to talk about? Your mother's a stubborn old goat, who apparently pays a buck and a half to have her hair done.
- What is going on between you two? - I don't want to talk about it.
I spent weeks working on this surprise, only to have it blow up in my face.
I deserve to know why.
OK.
OK, you want to know so bad, I'll tell you.
Picture it.
New York City.
Christmas 1955.
It's Francesca Ragouso's annual Christmas bash.
Everybody is there, eating, drinking, guzzling the Pepto-Bismol.
Francesca's a beautiful woman, but she makes a manicotti like you could anchor a boat with.
As usual Sophia's stationed at the eggnog and she's drinking right from the bowl through a swizzle stick.
My husband Carmine walks in and passes under the mistletoe.
She makes a beeline to him and gives him such a kiss she practically sucks the beard off his face.
I don't remember Uncle Carmine having a beard.
He was in a Santa suit with one of those hook-on beards.
I mean, I can't believe what I'm looking at.
I yank her into the pantry and I say, "What do you think you're doing?" She says she thought Cunio the bookmaker was in the Santa suit.
I say, "That's a lie.
" We have a big fight about it.
She denies the whole thing and we never speak again.
That was 30 years ago.
Don't you think you should talk to each other? I won't say one word unless she apologises.
That's the only reason I came here.
Aunt Angela, please.
We're talking about family here.
Won't you try to work it out? Do it for your favourite niece.
What's your cousin Graziella got to do with this? Please, just do it.
Please.
Please.
- Pretty please.
- All right.
Don't beg.
You sound just like your Uncle Carmine after he'd been away on a goat drive.
- You won't tell us? - Nope.
That's your choice, but you're making a mistake.
The same thing happened in my family once.
- My cousin Astrid - I'll tell you what happened.
Picture it.
New York City.
Christmas, 1955.
Francesca Ragouso's annual Christmas bash.
Everyone was there including the neighbourhood heartthrob Salvadore.
All the women adore Salvadore, the only guy in the room with a neck.
Anyway, I'm feeling a little queasy.
Francesca makes a great party, but she bakes a manicotti you could anchor a boat with.
So I go upstairs for a seltzer when suddenly Salvadore grabs me from behind and begins passionately kissing me.
Being a respectable married woman, I cop a few good feels.
I push him away and run back to the party.
I tell the only person in the world I trust.
My sister Angela.
Five minutes later, everybody at the party is talking about it.
I drag Angela into the pantry and ask her how she could betray her sister.
We have a big fight, she denies everything and we never speak again.
But, Sophia, honey, that was 30 years ago.
Isn't it time to forgive and forget? Forget I do plenty.
I never forgive.
But Angela's your sister.
If she wants to talk to me, she knows where to find me.
- In the closet.
- Ma.
Angela has something she'd like to say.
So does Sophia.
Hello.
Yeah, hello.
Your hair got white.
So did yours.
You still got that cat? The same cat I had 30 years ago? Fine.
You ask the questions.
- Don't tell me what to do.
- Let's not lose our tempers.
If you don't apologise, why don't you leave? - Why should I apologise? - I'll tell you why.
You're nothing but a backstabbing Judas in sensible shoes.
You know what you are? You're a two-lira tramp with cheap bridgework.
May you put your dentures in upside down and chew your head off.
May your legs grow old and gnarled and withered like an olive branch.
You should be so lucky.
May your moles grow hair thicker than Jerry Vale's.
May your marinara sauce never cling to your pasta.
That's it.
Come here and say that to my face.
Aunt Angela, you really don't have to go.
Dorothy, I'd like to stay, but I hate your mother.
Goodbye, ladies, and thank you for everything.
- She's still here? - No, I left an hour ago.
- What does it look like? - At least say goodbye.
Like civilized human beings.
That's it.
I give up.
Ma, goodbye.
Angela, let's go.
No, wait.
I have something I want to say.
When I was a little girl, there were two people I admired more than anyone else in the world.
My mother and my favourite aunt.
Now the two of you are at each other's throats and it's breaking my heart.
So my mother kissed your husband at some stupid party.
What does it matter now? You realise that this may be the last time you two see each other ever? Is this the way you want things left between you? Wait.
Are you referring to Francesca Ragouso's Christmas party back in '55? The one where you kissed Carmine.
What? I never kissed Carmine.
You never even kissed Carmine.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
You wore a green satin dress and a fringed shawl which you did everything but sleep in.
You're crazy.
I lent my shawl to Maria Fenestru.
Who? Maria, the one with the huge breasts.
There was no entertainment, so the men pitched pennies into her cleavage.
She walked off with $19 of my husband's hard-earned money.
She was wearing the fringed shawl.
Are you saying it was Maria who came on to Carmine? Him and every other male there.
So why am I mad at you? I'm mad at you.
You betrayed me.
I never betrayed anybody in my life.
Bull.
You told everybody Salvadore de Milo tried to kiss me.
- I never told a soul.
- Nobody else knew but you.
We were alone when I spilled my guts out.
We weren't alone.
Vinny Jamala was drunk under the table.
What are you talking about? I can't believe you don't remember.
He threw up on your shoe.
That was Vinny? He must have overheard everything.
He blabbed your secret.
- Then you never betrayed me? - Of course not.
- You're my sister.
- Angela.
Sophia.
I don't believe this.
- I think it's sweet.
- I think I'm going to cry.
I think they should both be committed.