The Golden Girls (1985) s05e01 Episode Script
Sick and Tired (1)
Thank you for being a friend Traveled down the road and back again Your heart is true You're a pal and a confidante And if you threw a party Invited everyone you knew You would see The biggest gift would be from me And the card attached would say, "Thank you for being a friend" Oh, girls, let me tell you this wonderful idea I had.
When I was a little girl, my mama told me my destiny.
She said, "Peacock" - that was my nickname - Peacock.
"you are destined for great things.
" Why "Peacock"? Because I was so beautiful.
Anyway, she said I don't find peacocks so beautiful.
They've got skinny necks.
And they shriek.
It doesn't matter, Rose.
And they attack chickens.
I don't care about chickens, Rose.
She didn't call me "Chicken," she called me "Peacock.
" You look more like a chicken.
When you're angry, your neck sticks out like a chicken.
Rose, it doesn't matter.
I was beautiful.
That was the point.
I was breathtaking.
Even more breathtaking than I am today.
But my beauty was not everything, my mama said.
My destiny was to be more than every man's passion.
She said my destiny was to be great.
She lied to you so you'd finish high school.
Well, now I know what my destiny is, Rose.
I'm gonna be a novelist.
A great romance novelist! That is my destiny.
I shall become a great Southern writer, carrying on the tradition of the other great Southern writers like uh All those others so famous they need not be mentioned.
Oh, girls, it's gonna be so exciting.
I am gonna make a fortune.
And I won't even have to use my imagination.
My life is a romance novel.
Your life is a sports page.
Listen.
Tell me I can't do better than this in my sleep.
"He grabbed her.
"She could feel his fingers pressing into her moist flesh.
"Her heart was pounding, her loins on fire.
As he spun her around, her dress ripping open" You know how many times I've experienced that? Your loins have been on fire? Yes.
"She melted" Where exactly are your loins? Rose, it doesn't matter.
Just listen.
"She melted into his arms, faint now with the animal musk of him.
" I didn't know people had loins.
I've heard of loin of pork, but In her case, the same thing.
Dorothy, you want to hear my idea? You won't believe it.
Sorry, Blanche, I can't.
What's the matter, Dorothy? Oh, I don't know what to do.
I just don't know.
I was in front of the class and I couldn't talk.
I was too tired to talk.
Not that they would have listened.
They were too busy sniffing the whiteout they'd stolen from typing class.
I had to excuse them early.
I mean, I just cannot get rid of this flu.
And it keeps getting worse, not better.
But it's been months now.
Maybe it's not the flu.
Flu doesn't last that long.
You ought to go back to Dr.
Raymond.
I did, Blanche.
He said I'm fine.
Get a second opinion.
She did.
She went to Dr.
Schlesinger.
Well, then, you are fine.
Now, you want to hear my idea? She is not fine, Blanche.
Look at her.
I didn't say she looks fine.
I said she was fine.
She looks like hell.
Thank you, Blanche.
Oh, you know, I think in my novel, my heroine will be sick.
Tragically sick, but snatched back from death by a doctor with the hands of a peasant and the soul of a poet.
Oh, my God, I'm writing already.
Somebody take this down.
What is she talking about? Forget her.
Dorothy, you've got to see another doctor.
Raymond is not a specialist.
Yeah, but what kind of specialist do I need? Well, just call up Dr.
Raymond and ask him.
He'll refer you.
You have to, honey.
You're getting sicker and sicker.
Just like my heroine.
Sicker and sicker.
Though, of course, my heroine doesn't look like you.
This is a romantic novel, not science fiction.
Remind me when I feel better to kick the crap out of her.
Sorry to keep you waiting, Lorraine, but there was something I had to take care of.
No, I'm not Lorraine.
You're not Lorraine Maslansky? No.
Really? Because I have her chart here.
Hand me my purse.
I'll check my driver's license.
I'm sorry.
Then you must be Oh, Dorothy.
Right, of course.
OK, we have Dorothy here.
Right.
Sorry to keep you waiting, Dorothy, but there was something I had to take care of.
That's all right.
A famous person - very, very famous.
But I can't tell you who it is.
Ethics - you know, we have to be quite careful about that.
But if this was Win, Lose or Draw, I'd draw a crown.
What? That was a hint.
Oh, oh.
Do you have my test results? Sure do.
And? A king.
But that's it.
No more clues.
My lips are sealed.
Oh, come on, come on.
Think about it.
I don't care who it is.
It could be the king of England.
I don't care.
No, no.
England doesn't have a king.
Try Saudi Arabia.
Look, all I can think about are my test results and how to keep this gown closed.
Well, don't worry about it.
You won't be needing it.
Dorothy, get dressed.
You're fine.
I beg your pardon? We've run every test known to man.
They're all normal.
You can get dressed, go home, enjoy your life.
Dr.
Stevens, I was always healthy, and then I came down with this flu.
I can't get rid of it.
I've been sick for five months now.
I have a constant sore throat, swollen glands, fevers.
My muscles ache and are weak.
I am totally exhausted all the time.
I know, I know.
You told me.
Well, maybe it bears repeating.
Maybe you still think I'm Lorraine Maslansky.
Look, Dorothy, can I ask you a personal question? Yes.
You're divorced? Yes.
How's your social life? Do you see men? What in the world does seeing men have to do with anything? Well, Dorothy, we know for a fact that if people are not happy - and lonely people aren't - they get all kinds of symptoms.
Depression, fatigue Symptoms very much like the ones you describe.
Look, Dr.
Stevens, I don't think you understand, so I'm gonna tell you again.
I am at a point now where I am so exhausted that sometimes I cannot speak, literally cannot speak.
There are days when I can't get out of bed.
I Raising my arms to wash my hair in the shower is too exhausting for me.
I can't even do that.
I have heart palpitations.
I can't concentrate.
I forget things.
I I get confused.
Look, Dorothy, I don't believe you're sick, but you do.
You want to pursue this, you want to spend more money, that's fine with me.
So, go to New York and see the man I studied with.
He's the best neurologist there is.
I don't know anyone better.
If you have anything, anything at all, he'll find it.
Two and a half hours! I thought you'd died.
What's wrong with you? Nothing.
Who are you? I'm the doctor.
We'll see about that.
Look, Mrs Petrillo.
I'm Dorothy's mother, and I want to know what's wrong with her.
And don't tell me nothing.
I know there's something wrong with her.
Mothers know.
Look, Ma, I'll talk to you about it later.
Your daughter is fine, Mrs Petrillo.
Tiptop? Tiptop.
Then, Mr.
100% Tiptop, why the hell does she feel like hell? Look, Ma Wait, I gotta hear this.
It could be functional.
Functional? Mental.
Mental! Well, let me tell you something, Mr.
100% Tiptop Mental.
My daughter may be no spring chicken, and her jaw might crack when she chews and she may have noticeable trouble digesting raw vegetables, but one thing she's not is mental.
Thanks, Ma.
Ribs, great.
Why don't you just kick the dentures out of my mouth? We never had a barbecue in St.
Olaf after the tragedy.
I guess we have to ask.
No, we don't.
She'll work it in anyway.
What tragedy, Rose? I can't talk about it.
Fine.
Good.
But it had to do with barbecuing elk, a big fire and someone who lost his balance.
Got it.
Clear as a bell.
Well, now I know why Hemingway killed himself.
Oh, girls, I have writer's block.
It is the worst feeling in the world.
Try ten days without a bowel movement sometime.
You just sit there hour after hour after hour.
Tell me about it.
I just don't know what to do.
I don't think there's any worse feeling in the world than facing that blank piece of paper.
Tell me, how much have you written so far? Well, that's just it.
Nothing.
That's how I know I have writer's block.
Blanche, you have to have written to have writer's block.
Otherwise, all of us have it.
Dorothy, maybe I ought to go to New York with you.
New York is a writer's city.
I could hang out at the Algonquin, talk to my colleagues, get the juices going.
Honey, I'm going just for two days to see a doctor.
I've asked Rose to go with me.
Rose? Why her? She's comforting.
And I'm not? You told me you were having a pedicure when your husband was dying.
Well, of course I was, Sophia.
It was the third Thursday of the month.
If I'd cancelled, that would have been it for July and August when I'd be wearing open-toed sandals.
Angel of mercy.
Well, I didn't know he was gonna pick that precise hour to die.
How could I know that? Well, he was in a coma.
Oh, he'd been in a coma for days.
The fact is, I happen to be very good with sick people.
I was once a candy stripper.
That's "striper.
" Whatever.
You know, a volunteer.
Oh, Dorothy, I want to go to New York.
How come Rose gets to go? Blanche, whenever I don't feel well, Rose makes me feel OK.
What is she? Your best friend? Rose knows I'm sick.
Well, I know you're sick.
God knows you tell me all the time.
What a waste.
Rose Nylund in New York.
It's gonna be a great trip.
You wait and see.
You're gonna be cured.
And I'm gonna get to see the Big Potato.
I said she was comforting.
I didn't say she was smart.
So, what are you doing here? You've seen everybody.
Nobody found anything wrong with you.
And between their workups and mine, there are no more tests to run.
Yeah, but I know Look, Mrs.
Zbornak.
Your main complaint is you're tired.
I get tired too.
It's called getting old.
Dr.
Budd, that's not what this is.
I am sick.
I've had to give up my job because I was too tired to do it.
How'd you get here? I flew.
No, to my office.
A taxi.
And from the taxi? What, how did I get from the taxi to your office? Not a hard question.
I walked.
Right.
You walked.
You're not sick, Dorothy.
The people I see can't walk.
They can't swallow.
Some of them can't breathe.
Look, don't take this the wrong way, but have you ever thought about seeing a psychiatrist? I have seen two.
Here are their letters.
They both say there is nothing psychologically wrong with me.
They believe it is physical.
What the hell do they know? Psychiatry's not a science.
Then why did you suggest I see one? Because what you have is not scientific.
What else was I going to do? Send you to New Mexico to a shaman? There's nothing wrong with you, Dorothy, except what happens to all of us.
In case you haven't noticed, you're not 30.
Take a cruise, Dorothy.
Go to a hypnotist.
Change your hair color.
My wife became a blonde.
She's a new woman.
Yes, room service? Hello, this is Rose Nylund, and I'm staying here in your lovely hotel.
Well, I think I need a new menu.
Mine seems to be full of mistakes.
For example, it says a small glass of tomato juice is six dollars.
I see.
Oh, room service, I'll have to call you back.
Dorothy, what happened? Tell me, what did he say? Nothing.
He said exactly what everyone else did.
Oh, no.
That's terrible.
Oh, Dorothy, I am so sorry.
I thought surely he'd find something, so that you'd at least have a name for this thing.
Oh, let's not talk about that.
Tell me about your day.
Oh, forget about my day.
He didn't say anything new? Nothing.
Come on, now.
What did you do? You've never been here before.
What do you think? I don't know how people live here, Dorothy.
I mean, it's all very interesting, and everything in the world is here, but it's so tall and so crowded and so noisy and so much.
I've never seen so much of everything in my whole life.
I went to Bloomingdale's - the store.
I swear St.
Olaf could fit into it.
I went to the top of the Empire State Building.
You know what I don't understand? How come the fall didn't kill King Kong instantly? I mean, sure, he was big, but that's 102 stories.
You look down (crying) I know, it was a sad movie.
I cried too.
Every time I see it I hope, "Maybe this time it'll be different.
Maybe this time he won't die.
" But he always does.
It was only a movie, Dorothy.
That was really a fake gorilla.
Oh, Rose, that's not it.
Well, what is it, Dorothy? What happened? Oh Maybe I am crazy.
Nobody believes me.
Everybody thinks I'm crazy.
Maybe I am.
Maybe I'm really crazy.
Oh, Dorothy, you are not crazy.
I mean, you are absolutely not crazy.
I've seen the way you walk.
I've seen how wiped out you get.
You're not crazy, honey.
You're sick.
I think so too.
I really do, but nobody believes me.
Doctors don't know everything, Dorothy.
You're right.
I mean, they think they do, but they don't.
You're right.
I mean, after all, Dr.
Seuss was a doctor too.
I'm gonna finish it tonight.
I don't care if I never sleep a wink.
It's just like giving birth, Rose.
Once you get started, you can't stop.
Actually, you can, Blanche.
Ingrid Thurman stopped.
What was she writing? She wasn't.
She was giving birth to Hans and Franz, the twins.
And she stopped right in the middle, right after Hans.
Well, what happened to Franz? He stayed in.
For how long? I don't know.
A long time.
They were a year apart in school.
That's impossible, Rose.
No, it isn't.
How is she? Wiped out and depressed, even though she tries to hide it.
Oh, Sophia, she's gonna be OK, I know it.
She will be, Sophia.
Now, she's tough.
You know, there are all sorts of things that people get that they can't diagnose.
And then they disappear just as mysteriously as they came.
Gustav Ljungqvist got sick from something mysterious, and he nearly died.
Well, he did die, in fact.
Then at the cemetery, Beatrice Ljungqvist - his wife - kept screaming, "He's alive, he's alive! I can hear him from the grave!" Well, everybody thought it was the hallucinations of a grieving widow, so they sedated her.
But when she woke up from her sedation, she told them that he said, from the grave, "We never paid our '78 through '86 income taxes.
" And his partner said, "Only Gustav would know that.
He must be alive.
" So they all raced to the cemetery, and the entire town started digging like crazy - kneeling by the grave, using their hands even, dirt flying and Beatrice screaming - and when they opened that coffin, there he was, dead as a doornail.
What is the point of that ridiculous story, Rose? The point is Gustav didn't die from his mysterious disease at all.
He lived and recovered.
Trouble was, he recovered while he was buried, so by the time they got to him, he'd died of suffocation.
I just don't believe these stories you tell, Rose.
The other tragic aspect was the IRS was waiting at the cemetery to arrest Gustav's partner, Bergstrom.
So Bergstrom killed himself right then and there, by grabbing the gun from Sheriff Tokvisten and shooting himself.
What they did then was, since the grave was still open, and everybody was right there, and Gustav and Bergstrom had been partners, so they put Bergstrom in with Gustav and had a double burial.
Unfortunately, later they found out that Bergstrom wanted to be cremated.
Oh, shut up, Rose! I think the worst thing in the world is if your child dies before you do.
Sophia, Dorothy is not going to die.
I know that.
She'll be fine.
I know.
Why do you do that, Rose? Why do you make up stories? It wouldn't feel right to live anymore, you know? If a kid dies, it wouldn't feel fair to live.
Sophia, Dorothy's not dying.
How do you know, Rose? I know.
Oh, now, honey, she's right.
I know too, and I'm a writer.
I see things more clearly than the average person.
My perceptions are keener.
Oh, knock it off, Blanche.
Sophia, we have all seen our husbands die.
We know what that is.
Except for her.
She was getting a manicure.
Pedicure.
Well, I'm 80-something, and I've seen more death and dying than any of you.
Over the past five months, we've seen a perfectly healthy, energetic woman waste away.
She can't do anything anymore.
So what difference does it make that they don't have a name for it yet? It's still something.
There were lots of diseases they didn't have a name for.
You think they had a name for the Black Plague when one guy had it? Thousands had to die before they knew what it was.
Dorothy could be dying, and they just don't know it.
When I was a little girl, my mama told me my destiny.
She said, "Peacock" - that was my nickname - Peacock.
"you are destined for great things.
" Why "Peacock"? Because I was so beautiful.
Anyway, she said I don't find peacocks so beautiful.
They've got skinny necks.
And they shriek.
It doesn't matter, Rose.
And they attack chickens.
I don't care about chickens, Rose.
She didn't call me "Chicken," she called me "Peacock.
" You look more like a chicken.
When you're angry, your neck sticks out like a chicken.
Rose, it doesn't matter.
I was beautiful.
That was the point.
I was breathtaking.
Even more breathtaking than I am today.
But my beauty was not everything, my mama said.
My destiny was to be more than every man's passion.
She said my destiny was to be great.
She lied to you so you'd finish high school.
Well, now I know what my destiny is, Rose.
I'm gonna be a novelist.
A great romance novelist! That is my destiny.
I shall become a great Southern writer, carrying on the tradition of the other great Southern writers like uh All those others so famous they need not be mentioned.
Oh, girls, it's gonna be so exciting.
I am gonna make a fortune.
And I won't even have to use my imagination.
My life is a romance novel.
Your life is a sports page.
Listen.
Tell me I can't do better than this in my sleep.
"He grabbed her.
"She could feel his fingers pressing into her moist flesh.
"Her heart was pounding, her loins on fire.
As he spun her around, her dress ripping open" You know how many times I've experienced that? Your loins have been on fire? Yes.
"She melted" Where exactly are your loins? Rose, it doesn't matter.
Just listen.
"She melted into his arms, faint now with the animal musk of him.
" I didn't know people had loins.
I've heard of loin of pork, but In her case, the same thing.
Dorothy, you want to hear my idea? You won't believe it.
Sorry, Blanche, I can't.
What's the matter, Dorothy? Oh, I don't know what to do.
I just don't know.
I was in front of the class and I couldn't talk.
I was too tired to talk.
Not that they would have listened.
They were too busy sniffing the whiteout they'd stolen from typing class.
I had to excuse them early.
I mean, I just cannot get rid of this flu.
And it keeps getting worse, not better.
But it's been months now.
Maybe it's not the flu.
Flu doesn't last that long.
You ought to go back to Dr.
Raymond.
I did, Blanche.
He said I'm fine.
Get a second opinion.
She did.
She went to Dr.
Schlesinger.
Well, then, you are fine.
Now, you want to hear my idea? She is not fine, Blanche.
Look at her.
I didn't say she looks fine.
I said she was fine.
She looks like hell.
Thank you, Blanche.
Oh, you know, I think in my novel, my heroine will be sick.
Tragically sick, but snatched back from death by a doctor with the hands of a peasant and the soul of a poet.
Oh, my God, I'm writing already.
Somebody take this down.
What is she talking about? Forget her.
Dorothy, you've got to see another doctor.
Raymond is not a specialist.
Yeah, but what kind of specialist do I need? Well, just call up Dr.
Raymond and ask him.
He'll refer you.
You have to, honey.
You're getting sicker and sicker.
Just like my heroine.
Sicker and sicker.
Though, of course, my heroine doesn't look like you.
This is a romantic novel, not science fiction.
Remind me when I feel better to kick the crap out of her.
Sorry to keep you waiting, Lorraine, but there was something I had to take care of.
No, I'm not Lorraine.
You're not Lorraine Maslansky? No.
Really? Because I have her chart here.
Hand me my purse.
I'll check my driver's license.
I'm sorry.
Then you must be Oh, Dorothy.
Right, of course.
OK, we have Dorothy here.
Right.
Sorry to keep you waiting, Dorothy, but there was something I had to take care of.
That's all right.
A famous person - very, very famous.
But I can't tell you who it is.
Ethics - you know, we have to be quite careful about that.
But if this was Win, Lose or Draw, I'd draw a crown.
What? That was a hint.
Oh, oh.
Do you have my test results? Sure do.
And? A king.
But that's it.
No more clues.
My lips are sealed.
Oh, come on, come on.
Think about it.
I don't care who it is.
It could be the king of England.
I don't care.
No, no.
England doesn't have a king.
Try Saudi Arabia.
Look, all I can think about are my test results and how to keep this gown closed.
Well, don't worry about it.
You won't be needing it.
Dorothy, get dressed.
You're fine.
I beg your pardon? We've run every test known to man.
They're all normal.
You can get dressed, go home, enjoy your life.
Dr.
Stevens, I was always healthy, and then I came down with this flu.
I can't get rid of it.
I've been sick for five months now.
I have a constant sore throat, swollen glands, fevers.
My muscles ache and are weak.
I am totally exhausted all the time.
I know, I know.
You told me.
Well, maybe it bears repeating.
Maybe you still think I'm Lorraine Maslansky.
Look, Dorothy, can I ask you a personal question? Yes.
You're divorced? Yes.
How's your social life? Do you see men? What in the world does seeing men have to do with anything? Well, Dorothy, we know for a fact that if people are not happy - and lonely people aren't - they get all kinds of symptoms.
Depression, fatigue Symptoms very much like the ones you describe.
Look, Dr.
Stevens, I don't think you understand, so I'm gonna tell you again.
I am at a point now where I am so exhausted that sometimes I cannot speak, literally cannot speak.
There are days when I can't get out of bed.
I Raising my arms to wash my hair in the shower is too exhausting for me.
I can't even do that.
I have heart palpitations.
I can't concentrate.
I forget things.
I I get confused.
Look, Dorothy, I don't believe you're sick, but you do.
You want to pursue this, you want to spend more money, that's fine with me.
So, go to New York and see the man I studied with.
He's the best neurologist there is.
I don't know anyone better.
If you have anything, anything at all, he'll find it.
Two and a half hours! I thought you'd died.
What's wrong with you? Nothing.
Who are you? I'm the doctor.
We'll see about that.
Look, Mrs Petrillo.
I'm Dorothy's mother, and I want to know what's wrong with her.
And don't tell me nothing.
I know there's something wrong with her.
Mothers know.
Look, Ma, I'll talk to you about it later.
Your daughter is fine, Mrs Petrillo.
Tiptop? Tiptop.
Then, Mr.
100% Tiptop, why the hell does she feel like hell? Look, Ma Wait, I gotta hear this.
It could be functional.
Functional? Mental.
Mental! Well, let me tell you something, Mr.
100% Tiptop Mental.
My daughter may be no spring chicken, and her jaw might crack when she chews and she may have noticeable trouble digesting raw vegetables, but one thing she's not is mental.
Thanks, Ma.
Ribs, great.
Why don't you just kick the dentures out of my mouth? We never had a barbecue in St.
Olaf after the tragedy.
I guess we have to ask.
No, we don't.
She'll work it in anyway.
What tragedy, Rose? I can't talk about it.
Fine.
Good.
But it had to do with barbecuing elk, a big fire and someone who lost his balance.
Got it.
Clear as a bell.
Well, now I know why Hemingway killed himself.
Oh, girls, I have writer's block.
It is the worst feeling in the world.
Try ten days without a bowel movement sometime.
You just sit there hour after hour after hour.
Tell me about it.
I just don't know what to do.
I don't think there's any worse feeling in the world than facing that blank piece of paper.
Tell me, how much have you written so far? Well, that's just it.
Nothing.
That's how I know I have writer's block.
Blanche, you have to have written to have writer's block.
Otherwise, all of us have it.
Dorothy, maybe I ought to go to New York with you.
New York is a writer's city.
I could hang out at the Algonquin, talk to my colleagues, get the juices going.
Honey, I'm going just for two days to see a doctor.
I've asked Rose to go with me.
Rose? Why her? She's comforting.
And I'm not? You told me you were having a pedicure when your husband was dying.
Well, of course I was, Sophia.
It was the third Thursday of the month.
If I'd cancelled, that would have been it for July and August when I'd be wearing open-toed sandals.
Angel of mercy.
Well, I didn't know he was gonna pick that precise hour to die.
How could I know that? Well, he was in a coma.
Oh, he'd been in a coma for days.
The fact is, I happen to be very good with sick people.
I was once a candy stripper.
That's "striper.
" Whatever.
You know, a volunteer.
Oh, Dorothy, I want to go to New York.
How come Rose gets to go? Blanche, whenever I don't feel well, Rose makes me feel OK.
What is she? Your best friend? Rose knows I'm sick.
Well, I know you're sick.
God knows you tell me all the time.
What a waste.
Rose Nylund in New York.
It's gonna be a great trip.
You wait and see.
You're gonna be cured.
And I'm gonna get to see the Big Potato.
I said she was comforting.
I didn't say she was smart.
So, what are you doing here? You've seen everybody.
Nobody found anything wrong with you.
And between their workups and mine, there are no more tests to run.
Yeah, but I know Look, Mrs.
Zbornak.
Your main complaint is you're tired.
I get tired too.
It's called getting old.
Dr.
Budd, that's not what this is.
I am sick.
I've had to give up my job because I was too tired to do it.
How'd you get here? I flew.
No, to my office.
A taxi.
And from the taxi? What, how did I get from the taxi to your office? Not a hard question.
I walked.
Right.
You walked.
You're not sick, Dorothy.
The people I see can't walk.
They can't swallow.
Some of them can't breathe.
Look, don't take this the wrong way, but have you ever thought about seeing a psychiatrist? I have seen two.
Here are their letters.
They both say there is nothing psychologically wrong with me.
They believe it is physical.
What the hell do they know? Psychiatry's not a science.
Then why did you suggest I see one? Because what you have is not scientific.
What else was I going to do? Send you to New Mexico to a shaman? There's nothing wrong with you, Dorothy, except what happens to all of us.
In case you haven't noticed, you're not 30.
Take a cruise, Dorothy.
Go to a hypnotist.
Change your hair color.
My wife became a blonde.
She's a new woman.
Yes, room service? Hello, this is Rose Nylund, and I'm staying here in your lovely hotel.
Well, I think I need a new menu.
Mine seems to be full of mistakes.
For example, it says a small glass of tomato juice is six dollars.
I see.
Oh, room service, I'll have to call you back.
Dorothy, what happened? Tell me, what did he say? Nothing.
He said exactly what everyone else did.
Oh, no.
That's terrible.
Oh, Dorothy, I am so sorry.
I thought surely he'd find something, so that you'd at least have a name for this thing.
Oh, let's not talk about that.
Tell me about your day.
Oh, forget about my day.
He didn't say anything new? Nothing.
Come on, now.
What did you do? You've never been here before.
What do you think? I don't know how people live here, Dorothy.
I mean, it's all very interesting, and everything in the world is here, but it's so tall and so crowded and so noisy and so much.
I've never seen so much of everything in my whole life.
I went to Bloomingdale's - the store.
I swear St.
Olaf could fit into it.
I went to the top of the Empire State Building.
You know what I don't understand? How come the fall didn't kill King Kong instantly? I mean, sure, he was big, but that's 102 stories.
You look down (crying) I know, it was a sad movie.
I cried too.
Every time I see it I hope, "Maybe this time it'll be different.
Maybe this time he won't die.
" But he always does.
It was only a movie, Dorothy.
That was really a fake gorilla.
Oh, Rose, that's not it.
Well, what is it, Dorothy? What happened? Oh Maybe I am crazy.
Nobody believes me.
Everybody thinks I'm crazy.
Maybe I am.
Maybe I'm really crazy.
Oh, Dorothy, you are not crazy.
I mean, you are absolutely not crazy.
I've seen the way you walk.
I've seen how wiped out you get.
You're not crazy, honey.
You're sick.
I think so too.
I really do, but nobody believes me.
Doctors don't know everything, Dorothy.
You're right.
I mean, they think they do, but they don't.
You're right.
I mean, after all, Dr.
Seuss was a doctor too.
I'm gonna finish it tonight.
I don't care if I never sleep a wink.
It's just like giving birth, Rose.
Once you get started, you can't stop.
Actually, you can, Blanche.
Ingrid Thurman stopped.
What was she writing? She wasn't.
She was giving birth to Hans and Franz, the twins.
And she stopped right in the middle, right after Hans.
Well, what happened to Franz? He stayed in.
For how long? I don't know.
A long time.
They were a year apart in school.
That's impossible, Rose.
No, it isn't.
How is she? Wiped out and depressed, even though she tries to hide it.
Oh, Sophia, she's gonna be OK, I know it.
She will be, Sophia.
Now, she's tough.
You know, there are all sorts of things that people get that they can't diagnose.
And then they disappear just as mysteriously as they came.
Gustav Ljungqvist got sick from something mysterious, and he nearly died.
Well, he did die, in fact.
Then at the cemetery, Beatrice Ljungqvist - his wife - kept screaming, "He's alive, he's alive! I can hear him from the grave!" Well, everybody thought it was the hallucinations of a grieving widow, so they sedated her.
But when she woke up from her sedation, she told them that he said, from the grave, "We never paid our '78 through '86 income taxes.
" And his partner said, "Only Gustav would know that.
He must be alive.
" So they all raced to the cemetery, and the entire town started digging like crazy - kneeling by the grave, using their hands even, dirt flying and Beatrice screaming - and when they opened that coffin, there he was, dead as a doornail.
What is the point of that ridiculous story, Rose? The point is Gustav didn't die from his mysterious disease at all.
He lived and recovered.
Trouble was, he recovered while he was buried, so by the time they got to him, he'd died of suffocation.
I just don't believe these stories you tell, Rose.
The other tragic aspect was the IRS was waiting at the cemetery to arrest Gustav's partner, Bergstrom.
So Bergstrom killed himself right then and there, by grabbing the gun from Sheriff Tokvisten and shooting himself.
What they did then was, since the grave was still open, and everybody was right there, and Gustav and Bergstrom had been partners, so they put Bergstrom in with Gustav and had a double burial.
Unfortunately, later they found out that Bergstrom wanted to be cremated.
Oh, shut up, Rose! I think the worst thing in the world is if your child dies before you do.
Sophia, Dorothy is not going to die.
I know that.
She'll be fine.
I know.
Why do you do that, Rose? Why do you make up stories? It wouldn't feel right to live anymore, you know? If a kid dies, it wouldn't feel fair to live.
Sophia, Dorothy's not dying.
How do you know, Rose? I know.
Oh, now, honey, she's right.
I know too, and I'm a writer.
I see things more clearly than the average person.
My perceptions are keener.
Oh, knock it off, Blanche.
Sophia, we have all seen our husbands die.
We know what that is.
Except for her.
She was getting a manicure.
Pedicure.
Well, I'm 80-something, and I've seen more death and dying than any of you.
Over the past five months, we've seen a perfectly healthy, energetic woman waste away.
She can't do anything anymore.
So what difference does it make that they don't have a name for it yet? It's still something.
There were lots of diseases they didn't have a name for.
You think they had a name for the Black Plague when one guy had it? Thousands had to die before they knew what it was.
Dorothy could be dying, and they just don't know it.