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Season Eight - Episode 14

Written By The Virtual Staff


While the Cats are Away,The Mice … Work?



Hook:  Blue Moon Office, Friday Noon



Maddie is dressed too casually for the office, even for a Friday.  She is talking a mile a minute giving final instructions to Agnes.


Maddie:  We’ll be back on Monday around noon.


Agnes:  Yes ma’am.  Have a great time.


Maddie:  Why do I think I am forgetting something?


Agnes:  Whatever it is, we’ll take care of it or it can wait until Monday.


Maddie:  (Looks horrified at them handling something without her.) Wait until Monday.


Agnes:  Yes, Ma’am.  Have a nice weekend.


David bursts in the door.


David:  Let’s go Hayes … daylight is burning and the 405 is filling up.  If we don’t leave now, we will be bumper to bumper all afternoon.


Maddie:  Right.  Is there gas in the car?


David:  We’d be in Vancouver before we need to top that tank again.


Maddie:  Cash?


David:  The ATM and I have already duked it out.


Maddie:  Presents?


David:  In the back seat, right where you left them.  Stop stalling, it is a weekend on the coast not oral surgery.  Let’s go!


Maddie: O.K. O.K.  (Whispers to Agnes) Try to keep them (nodding to the staff) here at least until we are out of the building.


Agnes:  Yes ma’am.


David holds the door open for Maddie.  As soon as she is out of earshot he leans over to Agnes.


David:  I left you all some goodies in the fridge.  Have a great weekend.


Agnes:  Thank you Mr. Addison.


David leaves.


Bert comes up to Agnes’s desk.


Bert:  Where are they going again?


Agnes:  Cecilia Stansfield’s in Santa Barbara … something about a birthday party.


Bert:  I guess when you are the bosses you can do whatever you want.  Go and come …  take afternoons, mornings, weekends off … whatever.


Agnes:  Herbert Viola … do you have a complaint about your job?


Bert:  No sweetums.


Agnes:  Do you have an issue with how Mr. Addison and Miss Hayes manage Blue Moon?


Bert: No sweetums.


Agnes:  They work very hard, stakeouts, Saturdays, Sundays, after hours … they deserve to make their own hours.


Bert:  Yes sweetums.


Agnes:  Call me sweetums one more time and you’ll be sleeping in the guest room for the weekend.


Bert:  OK lambchop.


Agnes rolls her eyes and nods to McGillicuddy and the boys.  They immediately rush into David’s office.  Whoops and hollers come from within as we hear beer bottles being opened and the music being turned up.  The girls follow in slowly but soon get caught up in the frivolity.  They are laughing and giggling too.


Bert:  Losers.  All they ever want to do is play.


Agnes:  You can play too.


Bert:  I don’t come here everyday to play.  I want to work, detect and deduce.  I want to be a valuable member of the Blue Moon staff.  I want to earn my way, not just float along as an overpaid extra, a minor character, comic relief.


Agnes:  (sweetly) You are more than that to me.


A sickly looking little man walks into the office and looks around nervously.


Agnes:  Hello, may I help you?


Man:  I had an appointment … I am a little early.


Agnes: Appointment?  Your name, sir?


The man hands her a business card.  Agnes looks it up in the computer.


Bert:  I’d say you were early, about seven days.


Man:  Excuse me?


Agnes:  I am sorry sir, your appointment is for next week at 1 PM.


Man:  (very disappointed)  Oh … oh no … it can’t be next week … not next week … oh no … what do I do?


Bert steps around the desk toward the man.  He sticks out his hand for the man to shake.


Bert:  Allow me to introduce myself, Herbert Quentin Viola. 


The man reluctantly takes his hand.  McGillicuddy notices the interaction from David’s office and takes interest.


Bert:  I am an associate here at Blue Moon.  Mr. Addison and Miss Hayes are out --- on assignment right now, but I can help you.


Agnes:  Bert …


The man looks nervously around the room and into David’s office, seeing the festivities going on in there.


Man:  No, no thank you, I will find some other agency.


Bert:  Don’t be silly.  Step this way.


Agnes:  Bert, may I see you for a moment?


Bert:  Hold my calls Mrs. Viola.


Agnes:  DiPesto … MS DiPesto.


Bert leads him into Maddie’s office.  McGillicuddy drops his bag of chips and rushes in before Bert can close the door.  The rest of the staff, Kris and O’Neill, Jamie and Jergensen, and Inez and Simmons all wander back out into the main office.


Jamie:  What’s going on?


Agnes:  Bert is talking to a client.


Simmons:  What is McGillicuddy doing?


Agnes:  Trying to get Bert in trouble.


The party is over and they take their desks and watch Maddie’s door.  The clock ticks away 30 minutes.  The door opens and Bert is leading the little man out.


Bert:  Thank you.  We’ll be in touch.  Blue Moon Investigations is on the case.


Bert turns back to the room.  Everyone except McGillicuddy is confused.  McGillicuddy is livid.  We can see the steam rising from his head.


Bert:  OK, good, all right.  We have a surveillance to organize for this weekend.  Who’s up for --- 


McGillicuddy:  Not so fast Little Small Man.


Bert:  You heard the man.


McGillicuddy:  I did.  We are not taking this case.


Bert:  Excuse me, when did you become Miss Hayes?


McGillicuddy:  We are not taking this case.  YOU are not taking this case.  YOU are not a licensed private investigator and this is not your company.  You don’t get to choose what cases get taken.


Bert:  You do?


McGillicuddy:  You don’t is really the point.


Bert:  McGillicuddy, if you want a long weekend - go home.  If you want to be a minor recurring character who occasionally has a line here or there – fine for you.  But I want a bigger part.  There is a case we can handle.  I for one think the bosses will admire our ingenuity.


McGillicuddy:  All the way to the unemployment line.


Bert:  I am a detective, I am going to detect. 


McGuillicuddy:  Do you have your secret decoder ring?


Bert:  That’s it!


Bert takes a swing at McGillicuddy and misses (naturally).  They start to rumble on the floor.  The staff watches and of course a couple of bets are placed.  Not on who will win, just how long it will take McGillicuddy to pin Bert.  Agnes looks disinterested.  The phone rings.


Agnes:  Blue Moon … oh hi Miss Hayes … no, no rhyme today. … We’re still here. … Yes Ma’am …


Bert and McGillicuddy roll into a filing cabinet and knock a plant off.  It makes a loud crash.


Agnes:  … Oh that?  We are doing a little dusting and I guess we got overzealous.  Everything is fine.


Bert and McGillicuddy roll into David’s office and the sound of breaking glass can be heard.  The staff rushes in.


Agnes:  Miss Hayes?  Yes, I have to go now.  Have a nice weekend.


Agnes hangs up the phone and rushes into David’s office.  McGillicuddy is standing over the broken coffee table.  Bert is lying on his back in the broken glass with a panicked look on his face.  He is afraid to move.  Agnes grabs his arm and pulls him up.  She is fuming.


Agnes:  Case or no case … some two are going to be replacing this before Monday. 


Bert:  It was –


Agnes:  Clean this mess up.


Agnes goes back to her desk and opens a game of Freecell.  Words are exchanged that she ignores and McGillicuddy storms out.  She looks back into David’s office just in time to see Bert emerge.


Bert:  I’ve got to do this, lambchop.  WE have to do this.  We are more than comic relief and occasionally speaking extras.


Agnes:  I know.


Bert:  So you are with me?


Agnes:  I am always with you, Herbert.


Bert smiles and leans over to kiss her.  The sound of six throats clearing is heard behind them.


Kris:  You are not doing this without us.


Jamie:  I have training for this.


Inez:  So do I.


Bert:  Well that’s from the girls AND the boys?


The men all nod and grumble and kick the carpet.


Simmons:  I had plans this weekend.


O’Neill:  I suppose I could put off cleaning out my mother’s garage one more weekend.


Jergenson:  Yeah, sure why not.


Bert:  Great.  I knew I could count on you guys … and gals, girls, women, ladies.


Agnes smiles as Bert tells the rest of the staff, very animatedly, about the case and the surveillance they have to do.  She loves how he gets so excited about the little things in life.



Surveillance – Night One

Team:  O’Neill and Kris

Friday evening - Ca’ Brea Restaurant



O’Neill and Kris enter the restaurant, taking a moment to assess their surroundings.


O’Neill:  Some digs.  I have a feeling I’m gonna love this assignment.  Dinner at the restaurant of the moment.  It’s good to be king.


Kris:  Ssssh!


The maitre’ d approaches.


Maitre’ d:  Good evening.  Do you have a reservation?


Kris:  Yes, the name is O’Neill.


O’Neill looks strangely at her.


Maitre’ d:  Right this way please.


They are seated in an overstuffed booth, midway through the room.


Maitre’ d:  Your waiter will be right with you.


O’Neill:  Thanks.


The maitre’ d departs, and O’Neill looks over at Kris.


O’Neill:  How come you used my name to make the reservation?


Kris:  Did you ever try to use a first name to make a reservation?


O’Neill:  You have a last name don’t you?  I’m sure….isn’t it……?


Kris looks at him, questioning.


Kris:  What’s your FIRST name?


O’Neill looks puzzled.


Kris:  After all this time, you think you would have figured it out by now.  We girls all have first names, and you guys all have last names.


O’Neill:  Well, I’ll be damned.  Wonder whose idea that was?


Kris:  Not mine, I can assure you.  I haven’t got a driver’s license, a social security card – did you ever try to open a checking account without a last name?


O’Neill:  Life’s tough.  Meanwhile, why don’t you chill out and try to enjoy the evening at least?  This is a pretty chichi place, and compliments of Blue Moon, we can live it up.


Kris:  I think first we’d better get familiar with our surroundings.  There are the people that the client wants us to watch…right in the back corner.


O’Neill turns and cranes his neck.


Kris:  Don’t make it so obvious. 


O’Neill:  What good am I going to be on this surveillance if I can’t even see the people?


Kris:  You have a perfect view of the restroom and kitchen doors.  Between the two of us, we have the whole place covered. 


O’Neill:  Well, aren’t you thorough, Nancy Drew?


He grins at her as the waiter approaches.


Waiter:  Good evening, I am Antonio, and I will be your waiter this evening.


O’Neill:  Hello, I’m O’Neill, and I’ll be your customer.


Antonio gives him a smug little smile as if to say, “Like I haven’t heard that one before…”


Antonio:  Can I bring you something from the bar?


O’Neill:  Sure, bring me a Jack Daniels on the rocks.


Kris quietly clears her throat, and gives him the eye.  He looks at her quizzically.


Kris:  How about a nice bottle of wine – red, preferably a moderately priced merlot?


O’Neill rolls his eyes, but nods his assent to the waiter, who walks away.  O’Neill turns back to Kris.


O’Neill:  What’d you do, take the pledge?


Kris:  What do you mean?


O’Neill:  I’ve known you for a long time, and never knew you to turn down a good stiff drink before.


Kris:  Maybe things are different.  I just don’t think it’s appropriate, or professional to be drinking hard liquor when we are working on a case – our very first case, I might add, where we can actually make a difference…maybe make a name for ourselves.


O’Neill leans back in his chair and looks contemplative.


O’Neill:  Hey, I’m still getting used to having lines.


Kris:  O’Neill, can you try and take this seriously?


He looks to the sky.


O’Neill:  Maybe it’s the detective thing….nah, Mr. Addison doesn’t get that way…it’s gotta be a “woman thing”.


Kris sits up straight in her chair.  Her eyes get steely, and her voice starts to strain.


Kris:  A “woman thing”?  Pray tell, what do you mean by a “woman thing”?


O’Neill:  There it goes again…that tone, the inflection – it’s not a “woman thing” at all – it’s a Maddie Hayes thing.


Kris starts to stutter.  The waiter arrives with the wine, making a great ceremony out of uncorking and pouring.  Kris meanwhile, is a picture of controlled fury.  The waiter has hardly moved from earshot when Kris starts to berate O’Neill.


Kris:  You know, I am so up to here with you guys blaming Miss Hayes for all the ills of the world.


O’Neill:  Easy for you to say, she wasn’t trying to get rid of you all the time.


Kris:  You are so full of –


O’Neill:  Linguine with crabmeat.


Kris:  What?


O’Neill:  Here comes the waiter.  Antonio, I’ll have linguine with crabmeat.


Kris:  Make it two.


Antonio:  Fine choice.  I’ll be back shortly with your salads.


O’Neill:  Where was I?


Kris:  Going on with your delusion that Miss Hayes was always trying to get rid of you.


O’Neill:  Remember when they had that case about the kidnapped piano player.  His mother was the client…very dramatic – huge hats.


Kris:  I appreciate your fashion sense, but I can’t say that I do.


O’Neill:  Sure you do.  Remember, we were having a Limbo party and Miss Hayes walked in.  Blew a gasket.  Almost ripped Mr. Addison a new……well, anyway, he started acting all funny and “boss-like”.


Kris:  Yeah, I remember now.  But what did that have to do with you?


O’Neill:  Back then, everything the woman did affected Mr. Addison below the belt.


Kris:  Oh goodie, the little head running the big head theory.  How open minded of you.


O’Neill:  Well, all I can say is he did some pretty uncharacteristic things to try and impress her.  During that particular time, he bet her that he could be a boss, and the wager was some of our jobs…with Jergenson and I at the top of the chopping block.


Kris:  And how do you know that?


O’Neill:  Why do you think office doors and drinking glasses go together?


Kris:  But you didn’t lose your job.  Nobody did.  How do you explain that?


O’Neill:  Push came to shove, he had her in his pocket.


Kris:  Oh really?


O’Neill:  That old Addison charm…seen it work on hundreds of different chicks.


Kris:  It couldn’t have been that Miss Hayes reconsidered and was being nice, huh?


O’Neill:  More likely she was warm for his form.


Kris:  Well, it didn’t take a genius to see that.  They both had it bad, almost from the beginning.


O’Neill:  Office romances.  People who are attracted to each other, but afraid to lay it on the line.


Kris:  Sometimes they lose out just because they’ve waited too long.  More wine?


He nods, and she reaches over and pours some in his glass.


O’Neill looks at her carefully.


O’Neill:  So what are we supposed to be doing on this surveillance anyway?


Kris:  You heard Bert.  Just keep an eye on these people and report anything strange.


O’Neill:  So who are we supposed to be in this little charade?


He reaches over and takes her hand.


O’Neill:  Should we pretend to be a couple, sharing a romantic dinner?  Or should we not pretend?


Kris looks at him coolly.


Kris: No more wine for you.  That ship has sailed, my friend.  We worked in the same office, side by side for five years…and virtually three more, and you’re making a move on me now?


O’Neill:  Some people move a little more slowly than others.


Kris:  The polar ice cap moved faster than that!  O’Neill, give me back my hand.  I need to get my wallet, and show you the picture of my boyfriend, the stockbroker.


He pulls back as if stung.


O’Neill:  See, a perfect example of what it’s been like.  You must have attended the Maddie Hayes seminar on sensitivity, more appropriately subtitled “How to kick the crap out of anybody who shows vulnerability”.


Kris:  I’m not sure.  Was that the one that was conducted at the same time as the “David Addison can teach you how to bring your emotional growth to a standstill” lecture?


O’Neill:  Tit for tat.


Kris:  You’ve really got a hang up about her.   I think she’s turned into a much nicer person than she was in the beginning.


O’Neill:  Maybe…possibly…the jury’s still out on that in my estimation.  Every time I hear the two of them get into it, I remember how lousy it got when she took off.


Kris:  Hey wait a minute…that song was two-part disharmony.  Mr. Addison was as much to blame about what happened as was Miss Hayes.  He screwed up.


O’Neill:  She started it.


Kris:  He continued it.


O’Neill:  I can’t believe you can’t see it.  She led him around by the nose for months, then played him for a fool with that pretty boy astronaut.


Kris:  And Mr. Addison was such a perfect citizen?  He drank and partied, and acted like he was seventeen and every night was prom weekend.  He was fun, but God knows, he was not the kind of guy any woman should want to get involved with.  I can understand why Miss Hayes shied away.


O’Neill:  Jeez, I can’t believe you don’t get this.  I guess it must be a wo—


Kris:  O’Neill, if you say it must be a “woman thing” once more, I am going to knock you clear across this room.


They stare at each other with blood in their eyes.  Finally, Kris speaks.


Kris:  OK, truce.  We’re never going to agree on this one, so let’s move on.


O’Neill:  I just have to say one more thing.


Kris:  The last word.


O’Neill:  Sex.


Kris:  Sex?


O’Neill:  Sex.  It was, is and always will be about sex.


Kris:  With them?


O’Neill:  With everybody. 


Kris:  If they’re lucky.


O’Neill:  Meaning?


Kris:  I agree, it’s always about sex.  Fire, passion, chemistry…but the smart people learn how to keep the fire kindled every day.  Just look at them now – living together, working together – and looking like they might just make it in the long term.


O’Neill:  Pretty radical idea.  Think that’s what you’ve got with your stockbroker?


Kris:  Could be.  Hope so.  Only time will tell.


O’Neill:  Can I put in a request?


Kris:  What.


O’Neill:  If the fire goes out, can you check with me before you start looking for matches somewhere else?


Kris gives him a little half smile, and looks at him for a long moment.


Kris:  Maybe.  There was certainly enough passion in this argument to warrant a second glance.  Speaking of second glance…


Kris glances across the restaurant.


Kris:  Oh my God, they’re gone!


O’Neill: What do you mean gone?


Kris:  Like going, going, disappeared into thin air gone.  Did you see them get up?  Head to the bathroom?


O’Neill looks sheepish.


O’Neill:  I was too busy arguing with you to notice.


The waiter approaches them with the check.


Kris:  Antonio, did you notice where those two people in the corner went?


Antonio:  Them?  They left about 10 minutes ago. 


He looks at their crestfallen faces.


Antonio:  Can I get anything else for you?


O’Neill:  (muttering)  Arsenic, absinthe, DRANO…any lethal cocktail will do.


Antonio:  Pardon?


Kris:  Nothing, thank you.


Antonio:  Well, thank you very much and have a pleasant evening.


He walks away as Kris and O’Neill share a look.


Kris:  Great.  Our first chance to make good in the field and look how we’ve screwed up.


O’Neill:  I kinda think my talents are much better used in the office anyway.


Kris:  Good thing.  I think we’ll be on detention for quite a while once Bert hears about this.


O’Neill:  Oh man…well, at least we got a good dinner out of it.


Kris:  Let’s pay the check and get out of here.  If we’re lucky, Bert won’t remember where he hid that whip!


O’Neill:  Wonder what you call a demoted Wobblie?


Kris:  I think we’ll soon find out.  C’mon, the Little Colonel awaits.


They rise, and walk towards the door, a study in dejection.  Before walking ten feet, they bump into the person they would least like to see.


Bert:  Hey, guys,I came to find you.


Kris and O’Neill exchange worried glances.


Bert goes on.


Bert:  Got a phone call from the client.  He had a tip that the whole thing is going to come to a head tomorrow night, and that there probably would be no action tonight.  Thought I would let you get home a little early.  There was nothing to report, right?


Kris:  Nothing, nothing at all.               O’Neill:  Absolutely nothing…nada…zilch.


Bert:  Oh well, tomorrow is another day.  So how did you like your first shot at working in the field?


Kris and O’Neill smile at each other.


O’Neill:  Not bad…not bad at all.


They all exit the restaurant together.


C O M M E R C I A L  B R E A K



Surveillance - Night Two

Team: Jergenson and Jamie

Late Saturday Evening



A dark sedan is parked on a quiet suburban street with two people in the front seat.  As we watch, the passenger side window rolls down and a hand starts waving playing cards out the window – to get fresh air in or stale air out – it’s not apparent until the occupants start talking.


Jergenson:  Excuse me.


Jamie:  Mexican!  What possessed you to get Mexican food when you knew you’d be stuck in a car all night?  With me!


Jergenson:  Sorry.  It’s what I was hungry for.  I’ll take a Tums.


He fishes around in his coat pocket for a while, finally popping an antacid into his mouth.  Jamie shakes her head, then remembers what they’re doing there and looks across the street to the house they are supposed to be watching.  Jergenson picks up his hand of cards again.


Jergenson:  Ok, where were we?


Jamie:  Go fish.


Jergenson:  Jeez, Jamie.  I’ve had heads of beer last longer than your attention span.  We’re playing poker, remember?


Jamie:  Well, I’m sorry.  But we’re not here to play cards.  We’re here to work, REMEMBER?  To observe any suspicious activity and log it in our notebook.  Mr. Addison says—


Jergenson:  Who died and made you Herbert Viola?


Jamie:  Low blow, Jurg.  Ok, ok.  I get it.  So…what is it again when all your cards match?


Jergenson:  You mean they’re all the same suit?


Jamie:  Yeah.  And they go ace, king, queen, jack…


He throws down his cards.


Jergenson:  Never mind.  I hate poker.


Jamie:  Suit yourself.


She realizes she has made an unintentional pun, smiles and looks over at Jergenson.  He has that vacuous look on his face that’s been there through five television seasons and close to three virtual ones.  Jamie puts down her winning hand and picks up a large set of binoculars from the floor of the car.  She squints into them for a short time, then puts them back and pulls out a steno pad she has placed between the bucket seats.  She looks at the time on the dashboard clock, checks her watch, then writes something down on the pad and tucks it back in between the seats.  Jergenson watches all this with obvious amusement but says nothing.  Apparently satisfied after her short pantomime she picks up her cards again.


Jamie:  Ok, what do you want to play now? Old Maid?  War?


Jergenson (sarcastically):  How about 52 pick-up?


Jamie:  Boy, you just hate to lose.  Typical guy.


Jergenson:  What the hell do you mean by that?


Jamie:  Just what I said.  You men hate to lose at anything, especially to a woman.


Jergenson:  I just hate to lose on account of beginner’s luck.


Jamie:  Who said I was a beginner?


He looks over at the large grin opening up on her face.


Jamie:  It’s called bluffing.


He shakes his head and turns to look out the window at nothing in particular.  After a few uncomfortable moments of silence she starts fidgeting in her seat like a bored child at the end of a long road trip.


Jamie:  Well, Mr. Smartypants, what do you want to do to pass the time now?


Jergenson:  Mr. Smartypants wants to listen to some music.


He turns on the radio and turns the dial until he comes up with a rock-n-roll station playing Jimi Hendrix’s Little Wing.


Jergenson:  That’s more like it.


Jamie (frantically rolling up her window):  Turn that down!  You’ll wake up the whole block.  Do you really want to bring the cops down on us?  How would we explain our presence here in the middle of the night without a licensed detective in the car?  They’d haul us in for casing the neighborhood.


Jergenson:  Or they’d think we were…you know...caught in a (he makes quotation marks) “compromising position” and let us go.  Maybe we should mess up our clothes a little.


Jamie:  There goes that one-track male mind.


Jergenson:  I don’t have a one-track mind.  I have an eight-track mind.


Jamie laughs out loud.


Jamie:  Jergenson!  That was funny!  You made a joke!  You sounded just like Mr. Addison!


Jergenson:  Actually, I got that line from Mr. Addison.  Or was it Lizzie?


Jamie:  Oh.  I should have known.


More time passes s-l-o-w-l-y…


Jamie:  God, I’m getting tired.  I wish I had some coffee.


Jergenson:  I’ll be chivalrous.  Give me some money and I’ll walk over to the Starbucks around the corner and get you some.  How do you want it?


Jamie:  No, if I drink coffee, I’ll have to pee.  Then I’ll have to leave to find a restroom.  Mr. Addison says never leave a stake out—


Jergenson:  Just go outside in the bushes!


Jamie:  Spoken like a truly chivalrous individual of the male persuasion.  Not quite so easy for women, Jurg.  And I hate to drip dry.  This is really getting on my nerves. 


Jamie cuts off Hendrix before his final guitar solo.


Jamie:  I prefer the Sting version.


Jergenson:  Did the Sting version come out before ‘92?  If not, Diane will have a fit.


Jamie:  ’87.  I checked.


After a few moments which seem even quieter since the cacophony of Hendrix ended, Jergenson chuckles.


Jergenson:  Sting…he was ok with the Police, now he’s just a jazz playing pretty boy.


Jamie:  Ok…I’ll give you the fact that he’s pretty all right.  But he’s also very talented.


Jergenson:  And I bet you’re a Michael Bolton fan too.


Jamie harrumphs and begins turning the radio dial.  She stops when she finds a Sade tune she likes.

Did somebody say that

A love like that won’t last…


They stop talking for a time, and Jamie’s mind begins to wander as she’s listening to the song.

Car headlights loom toward them, causing them to both sink down in their seats.


This is no ordinary love

No ordinary love…


As the darkness settles back over them she pops back up.


Jamie:  Hey!  I have a way to pass the time.  Let’s start a stimulating conversation.  I’ll ask you a question, you answer it, then you ask me a question.  And before you know it, it’ll be time to go home.  I’ll come up with the first topic.


Jergenson:  Gee, I don’t know.  This sounds like too much excitement for me.  Oops. Excuse me again.


Jamie (gritting her teeth as she cracks her window):  I’ll go first.  Ok…well, since we’re sitting here on our first ever stake-out, and Miss Hayes and Mr. Addison have been on about a million of ‘em, how do you suppose they keep from going stir crazy on these things?


In answer, Jergenson characteristically says nothing, just lifts an eyebrow suggestively.


Jamie: Eeeoooooooooo!  On stake outs?  Come on.  Miss Hayes has way too much class and Mr. Addison, well, ok, maybe.


Jergenson:  Think about it.  The two of them sitting in a car in some deserted location, all alone; it’s dark, cold.  Boredom sets in…they wrap up in a blanket and start talking about…whatever. And before you know it, her class goes out the window with the underwear.


Jamie:  That’s disgusting.  And we’re certainly not—


Jergenson:  God Jamie.  That wasn’t a hint.  We’re talking about THEM and what THEY do on stake-outs.   What the hell else would they do all night?  They can barely keep their hands off each other at the office.


Jamie:  Miss Hayes always shows enormous restraint around the office.


She turns her head away and mumbles:

Jamie:  Although how she can keep her hands off that man is beyond me.  God he’s a great kisser.


Jergenson:  Huh?


Jamie:  Nothing.  Remember how things used to be around there?  Before they got back together?  She always acted like he wasn’t getting to her.  Even when that PERSON showed up.


Jergenson:  What person?


Jamie:  Miss Hayes’ cousin…


Jergenson:  You mean Ann—


A hand is quickly slapped over his mouth.


Jergenson:  Ow!  What is wrong with you?


Jamie:  Of course that’s who I mean.  Just don’t say her name.


Jergenson:  She wasn’t so bad.


Jamie:  Well, we hated her.


Jergenson:  We whom?  I don’t recall hating her.


Jamie:  We women.  Of course you men didn’t hate the little…  Which brings me to another stimulating topic of conversation.


Jergenson (dripping with sarcasm):  But it’s MY turn.


Jamie:  OK, here it is.  You ever wonder where the turning point was?  What happened to make Ann—Miss Hayes’ cousin leave so abruptly?


Jergenson:  Never gave it a second thought.


Jamie (dreamily):  I’d like to think that maybe she caught them together in a “compromising position”.  Like maybe when Miss Hayes’ house got trashed and she had to stay in that hotel for awhile.  Maybe Mr. Addison went to visit her there or—oh!  Remember when she said they both got stuck upstairs in her bathroom?  When Mr. Addison came to rescue her from those thugs?  Maybe something happened then.  Wouldn’t that have been romantic…


Jergenson:  In the bathroom?  You’re losing it, Jamie.  And who the hell cares—


Jamie:  I’m speculating that’s all.  This is all for fun.  Now it’s your turn.


Jergenson heaves a very heavy sigh.


Jergenson:  All right.  What the hell.  But first let me say that you’re hallucinating.  Miss Hayes was the supreme ice queen back then.  She would never have let herself get into something with Mr. Addison or that cousin of hers that she couldn’t get out of without a scratch.


Jamie:  Yeah you’re right, I guess.  She was at the top of her sub-zero game back then.  Or maybe she was just tired of all the games.  I don’t know… But remember that workshop we all went to?


Jergenson:  Which one?  That touchy feely thing where we had to close our eyes, fall backwards and catch each other?  Man, it was worth the price of admission just to see the look on Viola’s face when he fell.


Jamie:  No, not that one.  I’m talking actual, virtual workshops here.  Remember the Sixth Season?  We were all thinking that life as we had come to know it was ending?  That Miss Hayes and Mr. Addison would never get back together?  That work would turn into—God forbid—WORK…


Jergenson:  Oh…that workshop.  The one up at that resort.  But as I recall, they were not getting along at all back then.


Jamie:  Nope, they weren’t.  But it was a hellova lot better than when they were being so NICE to each other.  That whole “pals” thing…whoever came up with that idea should have been shot.  Execution style.  Two bullets to the back of the head.


Jergenson:  Wow, I’ve never seen this side of you before.  Hey…listen…what was that?


Jamie:  What?  I didn’t hear anything.


Jergenson:  That’s weird.  I thought I heard shots and then the sound of clapping.  Maybe they’re filming a movie around here.  Or maybe it was my imagination.


Jamie:  May we get back to my point please?  That workshop actually seemed to help get us all beyond what happened with…you know who.


Jergenson:  Yeah, but it started out to be about as fun as a root canal with Miss Hayes and all her seminars and junk.  God she was all business back then.  I think getting a little has vastly improved her personality.


Jamie (with disgust):  Getting a little?


Jergenson:  Scratch that.  Getting A LOT.


Jamie:  Ugh.  Well, back to what I was saying, I think she had a brilliant plan with that workshop.  And you men just fell right into her trap.


Jergenson:  Doubtful.


Jamie:  Exhibit A:  When we arrived there, all everyone wanted to do was party, get drunk and sleep in.  Exhibit B:  When Agnes disappeared, we all started working together to find her.  And furthermore—


Jergenson:  Jamie, are you dating another lawyer?  What’s with all the Exhibit sh—


Jamie:  Well…I’m just saying that Miss Hayes turned it into a real learning experience and made us feel like a team again.  And after that, work started becoming fun again. 


Jergenson:  Fun?  You call this fun?


Jamie:  Sure I do.  I am finally feeling enthused at work.  I like it.  Mr. Addison says—


Jergenson:  Mr. Addison, Mr. Addison.  What is with you and Mr. Addison, Jamie?  You got a little crush or what?


Jamie:  I just admire him, that’s all.  I think he’s a great detective.


Jergenson:  You’re kidding, right?  I guess that’s why he didn’t even know he was being stalked when that crazy broad burned down his apartment building.


Jamie:  He had no way of knowing that!  And besides, it brought them closer together.


Jergenson:  Who?  Mr. Addison and the stalker?


Jamie:  Mr. Addison and Miss Hayes.  That’s when he moved in with her…and they’ve been together ever since.


Jamie sighs.


Jergenson (mockingly):  How romantic.  Gee, I wish I had their virtual lives.  But when was the last time we had a limbo party?  Or a luau?  Or played strip poker?   Or had an afternoon of my personal favorite past time - prank phone calls?  Huh?  THAT was fun.  You know, I’m changing my answer.  Getting some has softened HER up, but it’s turned HIM into a real boss.  I’m snoozing more now than I was during all of Season Five.


Jamie:  Well, you’d better adjust that attitude in a hurry.  Those Season Five writers never gave us our own episode.  Hell, they never even gave you a line to speak!  At least these writers are giving us a chance.


Jergenson:  You mean…this could be my big break?


Jamie:  Well, I don’t know about that…


Jergenson:  This is it…  I can show them that I’m more than a paid extra.  I’m an actor.


Jamie:  Oh, get over yourself.  We’re filler, that’s all.  It’ll probably never happen again.


Jergenson:  Then I’d better show ‘em what I got.  O that this too, too solid flesh would melt—


Jamie:  Can it.  The Shakespeare thing was last time.  Now I’ll summarize the salient points of my argument.


Jergenson:  Yep.  Definitely another lawyer.


Jamie:  I think the turning point for Miss Hayes and Mr. Addison as well as when work became fun again was after that workshop.  At least until Miss Hayes’ father had his heart attack.


Jergenson (finger raised in the air dramatically):  Aha!  That was the turning point.  And… the play’s the thing wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king.


Jamie:  Forget it, Hamlet!  It ain’t gonna happen!


Jergenson stops abruptly and sags down into his seat.  More minutes tick by while Jergenson pouts and stares straight ahead, and Jamie tries to think of something to say to get him out of his funk and restart the conversation.


Jamie: Hey, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to cut you off in mid-emote.  I just don’t want you to get your hopes up about this, that’s all.


Jergenson (still pouting):  I miss Sarah.  I bet she’d give me a great story.  Like that Hitchcock thing she did.  I really liked that one.  What ever happened to her?


Jamie:  No one knows…


Jergenson:  And now Lizzie’s leaving.


Jamie:  She’ll still be around.


Jergenson:  Well I just can’t see the other two picking up the slack. 


Jamie:  They are all busy people from what I understand so… who knows?


Jergenson:  Busy with what?  What could be more important than this?


Jamie:  Jergenson, I hate to break it to you, but you only exist in virtual reality now.  The people writing this, the people reading this, they are REAL people with lives, jobs, bills to pay, children to raise, vacations to take.


Jergenson gets that vacuous look again.


Jergenson:  I’m not even going to pretend I understand what you’re talking about.  And you know what? 


He reaches for the door handle.


Jergenson:  I don’t see anything going on around here.  This whole stake out is a waste of time.  Another great Viola brainstorm gone straight to hell.  I’m going to Starbucks.


He opens the door but Jamie pulls him back.


Jamie:  It hasn’t been a waste of time.  You and I got to spend some time together, got to know each other a little better, let the readers get to know us.


Jergenson:  Yeah, like they care.


Jamie:  You never know.  They might want us back.  If there’s a next season…


Jergenson:  What do you mean “if”?


Jamie:  Oh, don’t worry about it.  I’m sure there’ll be some more stuff they want to say.


Jergenson (hopefully):  About us?  You think they might want to develop our characters even further?  Actually allow me- I mean us - to talk?


Jamie:  Well…hope springs eternal I always say.  Mr. Addison says—never mind.


The dome light is on, and Jergenson is halfway out of the car when another vehicle slowly approaches from behind.  He pulls the door shut and glances in the rearview mirror, watching as the car pulls to a stop directly behind them and someone gets out.


Jergenson:  Quick!  Unbutton your blouse.


Jamie:  I will not!


Jergenson:  Mess up your hair!


He’s tugging his shirt out of his pants and Jamie is trying to get his hands off her head when there is a knock on the driver’s side window.  Reluctantly Jergenson looks up.


Jergenson:  Viola!


Bert:  What’s going on, guys?  Jergenson, why is your shirt untucked?  Jamie?


Bert looks from one to the other; his eyes widen with supposed understanding.  Jamie shakes her head and puts her hand over her eyes.


Bert:  I came by to relieve you.  And just in the nick of time I see.


Jamie:  Jergenson, tell him nothing happened.


Jergenson (unconvincingly):  Nothing happened.


Bert (nodding):  Uh huh.  You know, I caught the bosses looking like this on a stake-out once.


Jergenson  turns to Jamie with a smug grin.



C O M M E R C I A L  B R E A K



Surveillance:  Night Three

Team: Simmons and Inez

Late Sunday Night


A car is parked off Olympic Blvd. in a very well kept neighborhood in west Los Angeles.  There is a man sitting in the driver’s seat with a pair of binoculars up to his eyes, looking at the house two doors down from him.  As we get closer to the car, we see Simmons, our Blue Moon male Wobblie #3.  A woman (Inez, female Wobblie #3) walks up to the car and slides into the passenger side.  Simmons jumps.  She is holding two cups of coffee and hands him one.


Inez:  Now this is what I’m talking about.


Simmons:  What ARE you talking about?


Inez:  You … me … doing surveillance … leg work … field work.


Simmons:  We don’t belong here.  How long before we get rousted by the cops?


Inez:  Rousted?  This is 1992, all that racial stuff is over. 


Simmons:  This “racial” stuff is not over.  Why do you think they paired us together?  Put the two ni-


Inez:  Don’t say it.  I hate that word and it is not true.  They were doing boy/girl pairs.  I don’t like Jergenson and O’Neill likes Kris … so we were left together.


Simmons:  O’Neill likes Kris?


Inez:  Don’t you boys talk at lunch?  But he doesn’t stand a chance in hell.  She is dating a stockbroker.


Simmons:  He’s a sucker anyway.


Inez:  I can’t believe you are not more jazzed about being on assignment. 


Simmons:  I would be JAZZED being home watching reruns of Card Sharks.


Inez:  At least all those classes are not going to waste.


Simmons:  Classes?


Inez:  Yeah.  I’ve been taking classes at Santa Monica College. 


Simmons:  What kind of classes?


Inez:  Criminal Justice.  It’s great.


Simmons:  You want to be a cop?


Inez:  No.  I’m going to get my P.I. License.


Simmons:  Excuse me?


Inez:  Yeah.  The bug bit me three years ago.


Simmons:  What bug?


Inez:  The P.I. BUG.  Ever since Jamie did that undercover work with Mr. Addison on the Anselmo case.


Simmons:  What are you talking about?


Inez:  Yeah, you remember.  Come On.  You have to remember.  It was toward the end of the fifth season, Mr. Addison was dating Miss Hayes’ cousin.  Jamie and he did some undercover work in his shower.


Simmons:  I’ll bet.  Just how naïve are you?


Inez:  She said that he was a perfect gentleman.  It was totally on the up and up.


Simmons:  It never happened.


Inez:  Of course it happened.  She was there and she ought to know.


Simmons:  It never happened.  If it had happened we would not be here – VIRTUALLY.


Inez:  What are you talking about?


Simmons:  It did not happen “in Virtual.”


Inez:  Oh … yeah … well … it could have happened.


Simmons:  Anything could have happened!


Inez:  Not anything.


Simmons:  ANYTHING!


Inez:  Like what?


Simmons:  Miss Hayes could never have lost her money.


Inez:  Well if you are going to play that game, what if Mr. Addison stayed married to his first wife?


Simmons:  First wife?


Inez:  Do you ever watch this show?


Simmons:  Not nearly as often as you do.


Inez:  Look all I know is that Mr. Addison and Miss Hayes are made for each other.  If it did not happen as it did, it would have happened eventually.


Simmons:  Now what are you talking about?


Inez:  Them … as a couple.  You know growing old together.


Simmons:  You have spent too much time with Danielle Steele.


Inez:  You don’t believe in fate, kismet, destiny?


Simmons:  All I know is that I took this job on a bet from some of my college buddies.  It worked out.  No work, and pay is all right by me.   So the joke is on them.


Inez:  The joke’s on you.  We are working tonight.


Simmons:  Working … right.  We are watching some house and waiting for who, exactly?


Inez:  It does not have to be a “who,” it could be a “what.”


Simmons:  You don’t know why we are here either.  I could be home.  In bed.  Asleep. 


There is a stiff silence in the car.  Inez takes the binoculars away from Simmons and surveys the house.


Inez:  So you don’t believe in fate, huh? What about your wife?


Simmons:  My wife?  What about her?


Inez:  How did you two meet?


Simmons:  She was a teller in a bank.  I thought she was cute and would wait for her window.  She asked me for coffee and the rest, as they say, is history.


Inez:  And you don’t think that is fate?


Simmons:  No, I think it was luck, chance, happenstance.


Inez:  Is she your soul mate?


Simmons:  Soul mate?  You first-namers sure have strange ideas.


Inez:  Then she isn’t. 


Simmons:  So what’s your point?


Inez:  My point is that Miss Hayes and Mr. Addison are soul mates and they would have wound up together one way or the other.


Simmons:  Does everything have to be about them?


Inez:  Yep.  This is not an ensemble, this is a two man – well one man, one woman show.


Simmons:  Heard that.  So you think they would have wound up together regardless?


Inez:  I do.


Simmons:  Even if the fifth season were allowed to end the way it did and virtual never happened?


Inez:  I do.


Simmons:  They would have … what?  Met up say … fourteen years later?


Inez:  It could have happened sooner, but OK, let’s say fourteen, fifteen years later.


Simmons:  And what?


Inez:  What what?


Simmons:  What would have happened?  How would they have run into each other?


Inez:  I don’t know.


Simmons:  Come on, you must have an idea how the reunion would go for these two soul mates.


Inez:  It could go a hundred ways … at least as many ways as there are writers to write them.


Simmons:  Like how? 


Inez:  Well Miss Hayes could have gone on and become very successful running a modeling agency.  Mr. Addison could have fallen in with the Industry crowd in Hollywood and –


Simmons:  Acting?


Inez:  Don’t be ridiculous.  Mr. Addison can’t act, but he could produce, no skill or talent needed in that.


Simmons:  Well, there is that.


Inez:  They each could have gotten married and divorced.  Mr. Addison has some kids – daughters most likely.  Miss Hayes is still childless.


Simmons:  They never call each other?


Inez:  Egos … pure and simple.  Neither one wants to be the first to break down.


Simmons:  So how would they get together?


Inez: Some how they meet, say at a hotel, purely by accident –


Simmons:  Kismet.


Inez:  Exactly.  They go to dinner after a little of the old time prodding by Mr. Addison.  They get close, but not that close.  Turns out, she is being stalked.  He finds out and tries to protect her.  She pushes him away.  They go to a Hollywood party.  The stalker gets close again and she has to spend the night with him.  They finally do it.


Simmons:  Mr. Addison would never take advantage of Miss Hayes when she is vulnerable.


Inez:  Then it happens the next day.  And she starts it.  Anyway, they figure out who the stalker is.  The stalker is a woman who is somehow related to Mr. Addison and his ex-wife.


Simmons:  How?


Inez:  I don’t know, like a crazed fan or something.  It all happens very fast.  Say a week. 


Simmons:  That’s it?  Happily ever after?


Inez:  Well, I haven’t worked out all the kinks.  But it could work.  She would have to get to know his children.  You know … life, stuff.


Simmons:  That just sounds really stupid.


Inez:  You got a better idea?


Simmons:  Yeah.  Say Mr. Addison goes back to Philadelphia.  Needs to get away from the bad memories he has in California.  He gets involved with LOTS of women.


Inez:  Trying to blot out the memory of Miss Hayes.


Simmons: No, because he is a dog.


Inez:  Very nice.


Simmons:  Somehow he becomes the owner of a bar.


Inez:  How?


Simmons:  I don’t know.  It belonged to one of his women … a woman with his kid.  She takes off with the drummer from a rock and roll band and leaves David with the kid and the bar.


Inez:  David?


Simmons:  It is 3 AM on a Sunday night, no one is around, can we lose the MISS Hayes and MR Addison?


Inez shrugs.


Simmons:  So anyway … Maddie walks into the bar one night.


Inez:  By accident?


Simmons:  No, she was looking for him.


Inez:  Why?


Simmons:  Haven’t quite worked that out yet.  I was thinking something about the Anselmo case.


Inez:  What?  The case would be so old by then.


Simmons:  It is a murder case, it is has been reopened.  There is no statute of limitations on a murder case.


Inez:  OK.  So she finds him, they go through some crazy gyrations to solve the case.  And then what?


Simmons:  Nothing.  I don’t think these two are meant to be together.


Inez:  They don’t fall back into bed together?


Simmons:  They might, but it would only be for that one time or maybe two or three, but nothing long term.


Inez:  Who wants to see that?


Simmons:  I would.


Inez:  People want to see roses, diamonds and big weddings.


Simmons:  Then let them watch soap operas.  Maddie and David are above that.


Inez:  Above or below.


Simmons:  Either way … that ain’t them.  There is no sunset and happily ever after for Maddie and David.


Inez:  What about kids?  Can’t you see Maddie and David raising children?


Simmons:  What, like they are still detectives and raising kids and then the kids help solve the cases?  Did they get moved to the Disney channel?  Blue Moon, the Next Generation.


Inez:  Don’t be ridiculous.


Simmons:  I was just following a train of thought.


Inez:  Jump off.


Simmons:  Do you really think anyone wants to see Blue Moon a decade and a half later?


Inez:  I’ll bet there are plenty of people who would tune in.


Simmons:  The magic would be totally gone after all that time.


Inez:  If it were real magic, it would never be gone.


Simmons:  Says you.  But why tune in for one or two hours.  I put all that energy, money, effort and blood sweat and tears into something that will only last two hours with commercials.


Inez:  Because …


Simmons:  All the wrongs cannot be corrected in two hours, so what’s the point?


Inez:  Some is better than none.


Simmons:  I like virtual.  Leave the past as past and rerun it, but let the future live in virtual where everything can happen and people don’t grow old and there are fewer egos to deal with.


Inez:  Does it have to be one or the other?


Simmons:  No.  I suppose not.


Inez:  What about fan fiction?


Simmons:  Fan what?


Inez:  You know what I am talking about.  Can’t people have both or all three?


Simmons:  I guess, if they are interested in both.


Inez:  Or a choice.


Simmons:  America is nothing without choices.


Inez:  So we are agreed?


Simmons:  Agreed?  We have nothing to do with this.


All of a sudden there are lights from a car in the back window and someone comes rushing up.  It is Agnes and she is ranting.  Simmons rolls down his window. 


Agnes:  You gotta come quick.


Inez:  Agnes, what is going on?


Agnes:  McGillicuddy is in jail.


Simmons:  What for?


Agnes:  He was trying to negotiate for a coffee table to replace Mr. Addison’s and he got into a fight with the guy.


Simmons:  How bad?


Agnes:  Sixteen stitches on McGillicuddy.  The other guy is fine.


Inez:  What about the case?


Agnes:  Bert solved that this morning.


Inez and Simmons:  WHAT!!!


C O M M E R C I A L  B R E A K



Monday Morning – Blue Moon


The overtired Blue Moon staff (sans Bert and McGillicuddy) walks into the office just before 9 AM.  The place is a disaster area.  There are pizza boxes, deli bags, Chinese food containers and soda cans all over the office.  File cabinets hang open and papers are strewn all over the floor.


Simmons:  What happened here?


Jamie:  Were we robbed?


Agnes:  Bert happened here.  Hurricane Herbert.


Bert and McGillicuddy walk in carrying a coffee table that looks like Mr. Addison’s old coffee table.  McGillicuddy has sixteen stitches in his cheek and a black eye.


McGillicuddy:  It was a good deal.


O’Neill:  If you don’t include the bail money.


Agnes:  OK kids.  They are going to be back here in less than three hours.  Let’s do it.


The clock spins and the staff goes to work cleaning up the office.  By the time the clock reaches 11:30, the office looks spic and span.  The staff is sitting at their desks with their heads down, when Maddie and David walk in.  Maddie is surprised at how well the place looks.


Maddie:  Nice, very nice.  Did you have a nice weekend Ms DiPesto?


Agnes:  It was different.


David:  OK kids, up and at ‘em.  Naptime is over.  Lunchtime.


Maddie:  David!


David:  Look Maddie they were perfect angels while we were gone.  They can take an extra 15 minutes for lunch.


Maddie nods and the staff slowly mills around.


Maddie:  Mr. McGillicuddy … what happened to you?


David:  Maddie, that is rude.  He must have had a great weekend.


McGillicuddy looks sheepish and walks away.


Maddie:  I don’t know why I know this, but is not as it appears.  Agnes do you have something to tell me?


Agnes:  Well … um … kind of … I mean … well … there is a case file on your desk.


David:  Thank you Agnes, you can go to lunch too.


David rushes Agnes out.


Maddie: What did you do that for?


David:  Cause you’re spoiling for a fight and I would rather it be with me, ‘cause then we get to make up.


Maddie:  Shut up, David.


David:  That’s a start.


Maddie rolls her eyes and walks into her office.  She picks up the case file and reads.  David follows shortly.


David:  Did someone change my coffee table?


Maddie:  They took a case.  They took a case with surveillance. 


David: Who?


Maddie:  Well, from what I can tell, ALL OF THEM.


David:  All of them?


Maddie:  Every last one.  I am surprised Miss Me did not have a report to file.


David:  WOW … who knew?


Maddie:  David, this is not a good thing.


David pulls the check off the front of the file and lets out a long whistle.


David:  It certainly is not a bad thing.  Not bad for a weekend’s worth of work.


Maddie:  You need to see this expense report:  Ca’ Brea, at least 15 different Starbucks, Taco Bell, Pizza, Chinese, Canter’s.


David pulls the file away from Maddie and reads.


David:  They ate well.


Maddie:  David, this is not a good thing.


David:  Maddie they took and solved a case all while we were singing happy birthday to a five year old.  How is it a bad thing?


Maddie:  They are not licensed.  We could lose ours.


David: Well, they did some very interesting work here.  Kind of unorthodox, but we are nondenominational around here.


Maddie:  Would you be serious?


David:  I am.  These guys and ladies have all the makings of some fine detectives.  I say we put them to work, let them earn their keep and ours as well.  We’ll take more weekends off.  This could be just the break we are looking for.  We could be rich.


Maddie:  Do I need to say it again?


David:  No you don’t. 


Maddie takes back the file and walks out into the main office.  The entire staff is standing at attention.  They are waiting for their punishment.


Maddie:  So.  You decided to disobey my directions and take a case this weekend.  I can’t tell you all what a stupid and potentially disastrous thing that could have been.  If anything had happened to any of you (she spies McGillicuddy) … did that happen doing this?


McGuillicuddy:  No.


Bert:  No, that was my fault.


Maddie:  You hit him?


Bert:  No but I am responsible.


Maddie:  So you all want to be detectives?


They all look down with a little grumbling.


Maddie:  Fine.  I want any one of you who is interested to apply for your P.I. license and I’ll put you to work.


Maddie:  OK?


David:  OK by me.


Maddie:  And this (holding up the check) does not belong to us.


David:  Now come on.


Maddie:  I’ll withhold expenses and a management charge but this belongs to all of you. 


They all perk up and start smiling.


David:  Knew she would find a way to give that money away.


Maddie:  You did some very good work.  I am proud of you.  Go to lunch and take the rest of the day off.


They all cheer and leave with renewed gusto and pride.


David:  Take the rest of the day off?  Why Miss Hayes, you are turning into an old softie.


Maddie:  Not really … just wanted to do some undercover work of my own this afternoon.


She wraps her arm around his waist and pulls him close.


David:  Missed me this weekend didn’t you.  Not so easy watching your man entertain another female is it?


Maddie:  If I thought she was real competition I would scratch her eyes out.


David:  Well I don’t know.  She has got some moves in Candyland that I have never seen before and she could take you in Chutes and Ladders any day.


Maddie:  Have I lost you to a five year old?


David:  (he pulls her closer) Not a chance.  I like blondes without the pigtails.   What say we discuss that undercover work you mentioned?


Maddie:  Discuss?


David:  Non-verbally.


Maddie: You’re so articulate … non-verbally.


David: Isn’t that an oxymoron?


Maddie:  Well it is some kind of moron.


David:  You need new writers.


Maddie:  Just the one.


David:  (kissing her neck) Are we gonna have bigger parts next time?


Maddie:  From what I understand you and I are the only two people in the show.


David:  Hope there is a lot of …

Fade to Black

… Yeah That

Maddie:  Oh David.


====================C U T  TO  B L A C K===========================


We’re aware that many viewers used to turn off their TV sets whenever there was an “Agnes and Bert” episode, but we hope you stuck with us for this Wobblie offering.  Again, we apologize for the delay.  You’d think we were trying to emulate the REAL show.  Yeah…that’s it…


Thanks for Reading,

Diane, Lizzie & Sue