It's in the Bag! or The Fifth Chair
FADE IN on TITLE CARD reading: "JACK H. SKIRBALL Presents" -- with a jaunty
MUSICAL fanfare.
DISSOLVE TO:
A second TITLE CARD reading "FRED ALLEN IN IT'S IN THE BAG!" -- the MUSIC
abruptly stops as we
DISSOLVE TO:
Radio comedian FRED ALLEN. He stands before a neutral backdrop and addresses
the CAMERA directly. Allen appears almost eager to please but with a sour
edginess not quite muted by his bow-tie and natty pin-striped suit (with a
handkerchief neatly tucked into its breast pocket, no less). He has the
proverbial face made for radio: hair slicked back and massive bags under his
eyes.
FRED ALLEN
Ladies and gentlemen, this is Fred Allen. I'd
like to ask you a simple question. Why is it
when you folks come into a theater like this to
see a picture, before you can see the picture,
you have to sit there and look at a list of
names for twenty minutes? Now, for example,
in this picture, the first name you see is...
Allen rolls his eyes heavenward as we
WIPE TO:
A third TITLE CARD with name JACK BENNY near the top.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Who needs Jack Benny, a little radio actor, in
a picture like this?!
As Allen mentions some other names, they appear on the card, one by one.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
We have Don Ameche, an outstanding personality.
William Bendix, a three-fisted he-man. Victor
Moore, grandma's glamor boy. And Rudy Vallee,
fresh from Yale.
A dramatic MUSICAL sting as we
DISSOLVE TO:
The next TITLE CARD -- a list of actors' names: BINNIE BARNES, ROBERT
BENCHLEY, JERRY COLONNA, JOHN CARRADINE, GLORIA POPE, WILLIAM TERRY, MINERVA
PIOUS, DICKIE TYLER, SIDNEY TOLER, GEORGE CLEVELAND, JOHN MILJAN, and BEN
WELDEN.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
On top of Benny you have to look at a long list
of names like this. Who knows who these people
are? Who cares? You can find names like these
in any phone book.
Another MUSICAL sting as we
DISSOLVE TO:
Another TITLE CARD, reading: "Screen Treatment by LEWIS R. FOSTER and FRED
ALLEN -- Screenplay by JAY DRATLER and ALMA REVILLE" -- hmm, it's not every
comedy that has a script co-authored by the wife of Alfred Hitchcock.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Screen treatment and screen play. These four
people are now out of work. You'll see why in
just a minute.
Another MUSICAL sting as we
DISSOLVE TO:
Another TITLE CARD, reading: "We gratefully acknowledge the contribution of
MORRIE RYSKIND to this photoplay" -- Ryskind, a talented comedy writer,
worked on four Marx Brothers movies and apparently helped rescue this one...
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Ryskind's contribution. In one scene, the
family is eating dinner. Ryskind loaned us a
half a pound of butter so the bread would look
yellow in the close-ups.
Another MUSICAL sting as we
DISSOLVE TO:
Another TITLE CARD, listing "WALTER BATCHELOR Associate Producer" on top and
"Production Designer LIONEL BANKS" and "Director of Photography RUSSELL
METTY, ASC" below.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Look at that top name: Associate Producer.
He's the only man in Hollywood who would
associate with the producer.
We are spared another MUSICAL sting -- the orchestra HUMS ominously -- as we
DISSOLVE TO:
Another TITLE CARD, listing: Musical Director CHARLES PREVIN, Music score
composed by WERNER HEYMANN, Sound Recording WILLIAM LYNCH, Interior
Decoration GEORGE S. SAWLEY, Film Editor WM M. MORGAN, Ass't Director JACK
SULLIVAN, dialogue director WM. R. ANDERSON and Production Manager ARTHUR
SITEMAN.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Get a load of this mob. They're all relatives
of the producer. In Hollywood, all a producer
produces is relatives.
Another slightly more expansive MUSICAL sting as we
DISSOLVE TO:
A TITLE CARD reading "Western Electric Recording - A UNITED ARTISTS Release -
COPYRIGHT MCMXLIV BY MANHATTAN PRODUCTIONS, INC. PASSED BY THE NATIONAL BOARD
OF REVIEW" -- etc. Somehow Allen manages to restrain himself as we quickly
DISSOLVE TO:
A TITLE CARD reading: Produced by JACK H. SKIRBALL.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Here's Mr. Skirball's name again. He's in
twice, you see...
(philosophical)
Well, it's his picture.
A two-note MUSICAL bridge, as we
DISSOLVE TO:
A final TITLE CARD reading: Directed by RICHARD WALLACE.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
This is Mr. Skirball's father-in-law, another
relative.
Mercifully, we
DISSOLVE TO:
A pin-striped Fred Allen again, talking to the CAMERA:
FRED ALLEN
That's what I mean. Why should you folks have
to sit out there and look at all these names?
You know, someday, I'm gonna get my own
relatives and produce my own picture. And my
picture will start with the story, like this:
(as if telling a fairy tale)
One night, last November, an eccentric
millionaire sat in his den making out a new
will...
As he speaks, we
FADE OUT
INT. TRUMBLE ESTATE - NIGHT
FADE IN on a SHEET OF PAPER, clearly marked "Last Will and Testament." We
catch a name inked in near the top: "Frederick Trumble" of New York, New York
-- and the words "all my worldly goods" just below. At the bottom of the
page, a man's hand signs the name "Frederick Trumble." A lawyer's name is
also visible: "Jefferson T. Pike."
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
The old man signing the will made his fortune
with one invention. It's a soap that doesn't
do anything. It doesn't bubble, lather, or
foam. If you're lonesome while you're bathing,
this soap just keeps you company in the tub.
FREDERICK TRUMBLE, a white-haired old man in a smoking jacket, sits at a desk
in his posh mansion and finishes signing the will. His disapproving lawyer
JEFFERSON T. PIKE hovers into view -- a cadaverous man in black, eyeglasses
clipped to his nose -- squeezing his fingertips together in a haughty manner.
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
(sniffily protesting)
But as your lawyer, Mr. Trumble --
TRUMBLE
I know what I'm doing, Mr. Pike! If I want to
change my will, I can change it.
Trumble TEARS UP the old will.
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
But suppose... suppose you don't find this
grand-nephew? Who gets the money?
TRUMBLE
I'll find him!
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
Well, let's hope so.
Pike collects his hat, cane, and briefcase and heads out the door -- past the
elaborate candelabras that help light the room.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
You know, I like a commentary with a picture.
You don't have to watch the screen to know
what's going on.
Trumble watches Pike exit, then collects the papers from his desk, and
crosses to a painting hanging on the wall behind him.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Now, if you're reading a newspaper or a
magazine, you go right ahead. I'll let you
know if anything happens.
Trumble moves the painting aside to reveal a wall safe.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
This is a moolah refrigerator. It's a device
that keeps cold cash cooler.
As Trumble opens the safe, a sinister figure appears silhouetted in a nearby
window, trying to peer through the curtains. From the wall safe, Trumble
removes a gigantic wad of cash, an envelope, and a photograph.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
I counted this currency to save you the trouble.
It's exactly three hundred thousand dollars.
Now, if you don't believe me, watch the picture
the next show and count it yourself.
Trumble looks at the photo. Inscribed on the back: "Frederick F. Trumble -
Age Eight Months." He flips it over to reveal the picture: an eight month
old baby with the face of Fred Allen, bags under its eyes, etc. Obviously,
this is the long lost grand-nephew.
Trumble closes the safe, replaces the painting, and crosses to a table on the
opposite side of the room. Five identical antique chairs surround the table.
Trumble inspects the undersides of the chairs, chooses one of the five, and
starts to stuff the money into the seat.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Uh uh uh, you see, the old boy's ready for
inflation. He thinks stuffing the chair with
money will be cheaper than buying excelsior.
The sinister figure at the window hovers outside. The figure fails to see
Trumble put the money and the envelope into the seat of the chair and seal it
up.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Don't be frightened. That shadow behind the
curtain is only the director's brother-in-law.
You see, the director has to find a job for his
wife's brother in every picture.
The figure slowly opens the window. The night wind rustles the curtains.
Trumble senses something wrong.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Now, if he stays behind the curtain, he gets
ten dollars a day. If he comes out, he gets
five.
The figure points a gun through the open window. The wind apparently blows
the candles out as the gunman FIRES. In the darkness, Trumble clutches his
chest and staggers.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Oh! They're using real bullets. Well, that's
one way to get a relative off the payroll.
Trumble collapses to the floor, dead. After a moment, the figure approaches
and places the gun in Trumble's lifeless hand.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
This is plot stuff. You old moviegoers know
what's going on. But this trick still fools
the police. You'll see. The cops will think
the old boy committed suicide.
The mysterious figure quickly departs, ignoring the nearby chair.
FADE OUT
EXT. CITY STREET - DAY
FADE IN on a busy sidewalk in New York. We discover a pitchman standing on a
tacky platform in front of a building marked FLOOGLE'S FLEA CIRCUS. A sign
on one side of the platform reads: MIMI THE WORLD'S GREATEST STRIPTEASE FLEA.
Business is bad. A FREEZE FRAME depicts the pitchman, FRED FLOOGLE (played
by baggy-eyed Fred Allen), in the middle of his spiel.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Next, you see our hero, Floogle. Now, in the
original story, Floogle owned a big circus. We
had to cut the budget so, instead of elephants
and lions, Floogle ended up with four fleas.
If not quite flea-bitten, Floogle is a seedy character: a battered hat on his
head, a cheap unbuttoned vest, no necktie, a wicker cane in his hand. A sign
behind him reads: SEE ALBERT THE ONLY MATHEMATICAL FLEA with an appropriate
illustration of a four-eyed bug with a textbook.
FRED FLOOGLE
Hurry, hurry, hurry, folks! Step right in--
Floogle's spiel is interrupted when a walking stick appears and taps him on
the shoulder. The man with the stick is the pretentious PARKER, a sharply
dressed businessman in a suit and derby hat. Floogle is unhappy to see him.
FRED FLOOGLE
So, it's you, Parker!
PARKER
Yes, Floogle.
FRED FLOOGLE
Well, beat it! I don't like moochers blocking
the entrance to my show.
PARKER
I don't think it's doing my reputation any good
to be seen here, either.
He pronounces this last word "ee-ther", then quickly corrects himself,
pronouncing it "eye-ther". This guy is a snob.
PARKER
Either.
(beat)
If it weren't for your daughter--
FRED FLOOGLE
What's wrong with my daughter? She's as good
as anybody in your family. Just because you've
got a little money--
PARKER
I have nothing against your daughter. It's
simply, in view of her antecedents, I think
that a marriage between her and my son would
lead only to social catastrophe.
As the two men bicker, a couple of star-crossed adolescents -- Floogle's
daughter MARION and Parker's son PERRY -- approach them through the crowded
sidewalk. Marion pulls Perry aside. The two young people, hidden from view,
listen unhappily as their fathers argue.
FRED FLOOGLE
And that goes double for me. If you think I
want an old windbag like you for an in-law--
PARKER
Good. Then we both feel the same way.
FRED FLOOGLE
If my daughter has been out with your
half-witted son it's only because she's been
brought up to be kind to dumb animals.
PARKER
Including fleas, no doubt. Good day.
Parker walks off. Floogle gives him a dirty look, which we FREEZE on.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
The name Floogle was contributed by the
director's brother-in-law, the guy you saw
behind the curtain, remember? He had the word
"floogle" left over from an old crossword
puzzle.
Another FREEZE FRAME: Perry Parker and Marion Floogle, the young lovers.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
The usual picture formula is "boy meets girl,
boy loses girl, boy gets girl." Well, to save
time and money, we had the boy meet the girl
in a cheap delicatessen. If the boy didn't get
the girl, at least he could get a sandwich.
The FRAME UNFREEZES.
PERRY PARKER
Well, if your father didn't come around the
house and bring his fleas with him--
MARION FLOOGLE
Well, if that's the way you feel about my
father, Perry Parker, I'll go and have my own
baby!
Marion storms off.
PERRY PARKER
Well, THAT I doubt!
Perry storms off in the opposite direction.
CUT TO:
INT. FLEA CIRCUS - DAY
Moments later. An upset Marion walks past her father as he stands at his
little flea circus table (marked HOME OF ALBERT, MIMI AND SANDOW). Floogle
returns one of the performers to its proper place.
FRED FLOOGLE
(to the flea)
Now, you get in there and you stay in there.
Marion rockets past him without a word and goes to a door in the rear.
FRED FLOOGLE
Marion, what's the matter? You're not saying
hello to your father anymore?
MARION FLOOGLE
No! I'm not talking to any man!
Marion exits through the door, SLAMMING it as she goes. After a beat,
Floogle looks over at the family dog, sitting nearby.
FRED FLOOGLE
(to the dog)
Let that be a lesson to you, too.
CUT TO:
INT. FLOOGLE HOME - DAY
A tacky little apartment in back of the flea circus. Marion enters, still
upset, and throws herself down on a sofa. Her thin mother, EVE FLOOGLE,
walks around the living room, counting the number of times she pushes a
rolling pin up and down her own butt.
EVE FLOOGLE
Six, seven... What's the trouble, Marion?
MARION FLOOGLE
Nothing.
EVE FLOOGLE
(off the rolling pin)
Hmm, I hope this thing does some good.
(to Marion)
Aw, darling, don't cry like that.
Marion's little brother HOMER sits nearby, playing chess with himself. He
wears thick eyeglasses and speaks in an affected, intellectual manner.
HOMER FLOOGLE
Oh, let her cry, Mom.
EVE FLOOGLE
Oh, a fine brother you are!
HOMER FLOOGLE
I'm only telling you what any modern
psychologist would tell you. Dr. Pettibone
insists that unless people have an emotional
outlet, they will develop neuroses.
EVE FLOOGLE
(unimpressed)
Hm! Was Dr. Pettibone ever a mother?
HOMER FLOOGLE
Was she! As a matter of fact, she was married
three times and had twelve children.
EVE FLOOGLE
(only a little chastened)
Hmmph! I just hope none of them were like you.
Floogle enters.
EVE FLOOGLE
Oh, my mother told me I should never marry a
flea trainer.
FRED FLOOGLE
And what's the matter with flea trainers?
EVE FLOOGLE
(exiting)
You tell him, Homer.
HOMER FLOOGLE
I just read an article about that.
FRED FLOOGLE
And?
HOMER FLOOGLE
It came to the following interesting
conclusion...
FRED FLOOGLE
Yeah?
HOMER FLOOGLE
A) Eighty-three per cent of flea trainers are
of definitely low mentality. B) Sixteen per
cent were classified as morons--
FRED FLOOGLE
(brandishes his cane)
Why, for two pennies, I'd--
HOMER FLOOGLE
Uh uh! Dad! How many times have I told you?
Striking your own child denotes a fundamental
weakness in character.
FRED FLOOGLE
Sometimes I wonder if you ARE my own child.
Homer removes his eyeglasses to reveal two huge bags under his eyes.
HOMER FLOOGLE
Can you still doubt?
Floogle's eyes pop in disbelief. He stares, baggy-eyed, into the CAMERA.
FRED FLOOGLE
(directly to the audience)
What do you think?
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Don't answer that question!
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. FLEA CIRCUS - DAY
Later. Floogle, on his platform, waves his cane and delivers his spiel to
the passersby, who completely ignore him. A NEWSBOY nearly drowns him out.
FRED FLOOGLE
It's an edifying, gratifying, mystifying
exhibition and it's just about to start on the
inside...
NEWSIE
Extra! Extra! All about the millionaire
suicide! Extra! Extra!
FRED FLOOGLE
Say, boy, that the racing final you got? Let me
have one of those, will ya?
NEWSIE
(hands him a paper)
Yes, sir.
(takes the money)
Thanks a lot.
(moves on up the street)
Extra! Extra!
Floogle goes straight to the racing news, ignoring the front page headline:
MULTI-MILLIONAIRE SUICIDE - GRAND-NEPHEW SOLE HEIR.
FRED FLOOGLE
(reads)
Fifth race at Belmont. Julius Caesar, last!
(disgusted)
Another two bucks shot.
Floogle folds up the paper and slaps it down. Eve appears, upset, having
heard his outburst.
EVE FLOOGLE
Where're you gonna get the two dollars?
FRED FLOOGLE
Eh? Well--
EVE FLOOGLE
If I catch you makin' another bet with Marty
the Goniff--! How much do you owe him now?
Suddenly MARTY THE GONIFF, an old-fashioned New York City bookie in the Damon
Runyon tradition, emerges from the building next door to confront the
Floogles.
MARTY THE GONIFF
Eight dollars. So your husband owes me eight
dollars, Mrs. Floogle. If I ain't worried
about it, why should you?
EVE FLOOGLE
I'm not worried about it -- 'cuz I know if he
doesn't pay you the eight dollars, you'll break
all of his ribs.
MARTY THE GONIFF
(to Floogle)
Now, uh -- just to settle a bet, of course --
weren't you born in Joplin, Missouri?
FRED FLOOGLE
Yeah, but that could happen to anybody.
MARTY THE GONIFF
And when your father died, your mother married
Malachai Floogle and you took your stepfather's
name -- ain't that right? Got a birth
certificate, ain'tcha?
EVE FLOOGLE
What do you think, he was born on a due bill?
MARTY THE GONIFF
How long've you had those bags under your eyes?
FRED FLOOGLE
What bags?
EVE FLOOGLE
Bags he calls 'em! Trunks.
MARTY THE GONIFF
(to Floogle)
After this, you don't have to bet two bucks
across. Your credit's good with me. From now
on, you can bet two hundred! You can bet two
thousand dollars! You can bet two--
(thinks it over)
You can bet two thousand dollars.
FRED FLOOGLE
What's the big idea, Marty? Just because my
mother's name was Margaret Trumble and I was
born in Joplin, Missouri, you're giving me all
this credit? I don't get it.
EVE FLOOGLE
Very simple. He likes bags.
MARTY THE GONIFF
Yeah. Bags is my weakness.
EVE FLOOGLE
Look, Marty, I got bags, too. You couldn't
lend me fifty bucks on 'em to pay the rent,
could you?
MARTY THE GONIFF
Sure! Why not?
Marty digs out a roll of bills and hands one to Eve.
MARTY THE GONIFF
There y'are! Fifty bucks!
She looks at it doubtfully, never having seen a bill that big before.
EVE FLOOGLE
Fifty dollars in one bill? Ahh, it's
counterfeit!
MARTY THE GONIFF
No, honest!
EVE FLOOGLE
(calls out, in a sing-song fashion)
Homerrrrrrr!!!
Homer appears at the rear door, reading a book.
HOMER FLOOGLE
Yes, motherrrr?!
EVE FLOOGLE
Who's picture's on a fifty dollar bi-illlll?!
HOMER FLOOGLE
Ulysses S. Graaa-aaant!
EVE FLOOGLE
(excited, to Marty)
I think I'll go right up the Tomb and thank Mr.
Grant personally.
Eve stuffs the bill down her blouse and rushes off. Marty tips his hat.
MARTY THE GONIFF
Well... so long, Floogle!
FRED FLOOGLE
Come clean, Marty. What's the gimmick?
MARTY THE GONIFF
Forget it.
(a sly smile)
It's your birthday.
Marty walks off.
FRED FLOOGLE
My birthday? This isn't November.
(looks around, sees newspaper)
What month is this?
(unfolds paper, sees front page)
What day is it? I--
Floogle sees the headline and the accompanying photos -- one is of Trumble
(captioned "$12,000,000 SUICIDE") and the other is the picture of the eight
month old baby with the bags under its eyes (captioned "$12,000,000 BABY").
FRED FLOOGLE
Wow! Eve! Marion! Homer! Look! In the
paper! Look!
Eve, Marion and Homer rush to Floogle, staring in disbelief at the front
page.
EVE FLOOGLE
Fred! What's the matter?
(sees the headline)
Oh!
MARION FLOOGLE
Twelve million dollars! Mama!
HOMER FLOOGLE
Dad, you can read? Dad, you can buy a lot of
fleas!
EVE FLOOGLE
(hugs Floogle)
[?], Fred, darling!
FRED FLOOGLE
Oh, now I can get you what you've always wanted
-- mink underwear and a chinchilla sarong!
A man approaches and taps on Floogle's platform.
MAN ON THE STREET
What time does the flea circus start, mister?
FRED FLOOGLE
(bites his head off)
What flea circus? Does a man with twelve
million dollars horse around with fleas? Beat
it, brother, I got other things to do!
The man hurries away.
MARION FLOOGLE
Daddy! Now we can move!
FRED FLOOGLE
You bet we can move! Where does that
Insecticide King live?
MARION FLOOGLE
At the Toppingham Towers.
FRED FLOOGLE
We'll show them! We'll get the penthouse at
the Toppingham Towers! We'll give you a coming
out party that'll make Park Avenue look like
Tobacco Road.
DISSOLVE TO:
MILLIONAIRE MONTAGE
We start with some newspaper headlines. FLEA FLUNKY FINDS FORTUNE! FRED
FLOOGLE A MILLIONAIRE reads the New York Globe headline over a photo of a
pop-eyed, wildly grinning Floogle. The Daily Chronicle's front page
announces: COOTIE COACH COPS CASH! FRED FLOOGLE INHERITS TRUMBLE ESTATE with
a similar picture. Next, we DOLLY across the busy city sidewalk to discover
a "FOR RENT" sign hanging on the barred doors of FLOOGLE'S abandoned FLEA
CIRCUS. Next, a small Gold Credit Card which reads: "Presentation of this
card to members of the staff of TOPPINGHAM TOWERS will entitle you to every
privilege they can possibly give" -- the name of FREDERICK TRUMBLE FLOOGLE is
typed on the card which is signed, "THE MANAGEMENT" ... The card is
SUPERIMPOSED over an image of the TOPPINGHAM TOWERS, a gigantic New York City
skyscraper.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. FLOOGLE'S SUITE - TOPPINGHAM TOWERS - DAY
The swanky penthouse suite -- a beehive of activity: The Floogle family is
just moving in. The uniformed hotel staff enter bearing various items: a
silver tureen, the family dog on a leash, gift boxes, etc.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Get a load of the Floogles in a penthouse.
Well, now we'll see some high living.
Floogle, surrounded by tailors, has a suit fitted and picks out new material
as he speaks to a JOURNALIST. Homer, now smartly dressed in suit coat and
short pants, talks on the phone.
HOMER FLOOGLE
Dad, you wanna buy a [?] in the Bronx?
FRED FLOOGLE
No, we're not making any foreign investments.
(to a tailor)
This sleeve is a little too long...
JOURNALIST
And what about the fleas, Mr. Floogle?
FRED FLOOGLE
The fleas have been retired. They get their
checks every Saturday morning, rain or shine.
(to the 2nd tailor)
I'll take two suits of this with a beret.
JOURNALIST
Where are you staying this summer?
FRED FLOOGLE
This summer? East Hampton, Tijuana, possibly
Coney Island.
(to the 2nd tailor)
I'll have two suits of this with sandals to
match.
JOURNALIST
What do you think of our economic situation?
FRED FLOOGLE
I'm glad you asked me that.
(to the 1st tailor)
It is. It's pinching me. It's pinching me
under the shoulder.
Across the room, Eve is surrounded by an entourage of her own.
JEWELER
But Mr. Floogle wants you to have it and if you
have any old diamonds you'd like to--
EVE FLOOGLE
You mean last year's diamonds?
JEWELER
Yes, ma'am.
EVE FLOOGLE
Oh, no. We don't bother with them. You see,
we just throw them out. They get so shabby,
you know.
CLOTHIER
(off a fabric)
May I interest you in this, Mrs. Floogle?
EVE FLOOGLE
Oh, yes. How would you wear it?
CLOTHIER
Like so.
EVE FLOOGLE
With a [zaped rate?]?
CUT TO:
INT. HOTEL LOBBY - DAY
Marion Floogle enters from the street with Perry Parker in hot pursuit.
PERRY PARKER
Now, look, Marion--
Perry chases Marion around the lobby.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
This may look like touch football but it's a
much older game called "Love." L-O-V-E.
"Love" spelled backwards is "evol."
MARION FLOOGLE
[?]!
PERRY PARKER
Wait a minute!
Marion bolts for the elevator. Perry follows.
CUT TO:
INT. ELEVATOR - DAY
Marion and Perry board the crowded elevator.
ELEVATOR OPERATOR
Floors, please!
PASSENGERS
(ad lib)
Forty-eight. Twenty-four. Fifty-three.
Forty-two.
MARION FLOOGLE
Seventy-two.
ELEVATOR OPERATOR
(to Perry)
And you?
PERRY PARKER
I'm going wherever she goes!
(desperately)
Look, Marion, if you don't love me anymore,
well, tell me and I'll stop bothering you.
I just wanna know that's all.
Marion ignores him.
PERRY PARKER
Aw, can'tcha say anything?
ELEVATOR OPERATOR
Tenth floor!
The door opens and a RICH LADY WITH A BOX gets off.
PERRY PARKER
Marion?
Abruptly, the Rich Lady stops.
RICH LADY WITH A BOX
(to the elevator operator)
Wait a minute!
The Rich Lady returns and gets back in the elevator.
RICH LADY WITH A BOX
(to the elevator operator)
Never mind. I want to see how this comes out.
The doors close and the elevator goes up.
PERRY PARKER
Marion, have you forgotten those wonderful
nights in the laboratory while I worked on my
invention?
ELEVATOR OPERATOR
Fifteenth floor!
The doors open but nobody moves. They're totally caught up in the human
drama.
PERRY PARKER
Did all those promises mean nothing?
ELEVATOR OPERATOR
(annoyed)
Well, somebody wanted the fifteenth floor!
MAN IN REAR
(to the elevator operator)
I did. Skip it.
The doors close and the elevator goes up.
PERRY PARKER
What about that night in the chop suey
restaurant? What about Coney Island?
ELEVATOR OPERATOR
Twenty-third!
The doors open and several NEW PASSENGERS board, chatting amongst themselves.
1ST NEW PASSENGER
That's the last time I'll play gin rummy.
2ND NEW PASSENGER
You know what happened in that bridge game--
OTHER PASSENGERS
(ad lib)
Quiet! Ssshhh!
PERRY PARKER
(to the new passengers)
How can you talk about bridge at a time like
this?
The doors close and the elevator, jammed with passengers, goes up.
ELEVATOR OPERATOR
(to the new passengers)
Yeah! The man's whole future's at stake!
PERRY PARKER
(to Marion)
All I'm asking is a simple yes or no.
The elevator operator suddenly halts his elevator and turns to Marion.
ELEVATOR OPERATOR
I've had enough of this. Now, look--
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
The problem here is not whether the lovers will
ever get together but whether they will ever
get out of the elevator.
ELEVATOR OPERATOR
(to Marion)
Why don't you tell the man Yes or No?
The other passengers agree and egg her on.
PASSENGERS
(ad lib)
Yeah! Tell him something!
MARION FLOOGLE
I promised my father I wouldn't talk to him
again.
The passengers start repeating this to Perry, even though he's standing only
two feet away from her.
PASSENGERS
(ad lib, to Perry)
She promised her father she wouldn't talk to
you again.
PERRY PARKER
She doesn't have to talk to me again! Find out
whether she loves me or not.
ELEVATOR OPERATOR
(to Marion)
He wants to know: do you love him or not?
MARION FLOOGLE
Yes, I love him.
The passengers SIGH and CHEER in response. Everybody's happy. The elevator
operator starts the car moving again. Playfully putting his hat on the
elevator operator's head, a very happy Perry embraces Marion who responds in
kind.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. FLOOGLE'S SUITE - DAY
Floogle -- surrounded by his tailor and various men carrying paintings, giant
model ships, and other items they would like to sell him -- talks on the
phone with Marty the Goniff.
FRED FLOOGLE
(into the phone)
All right, Marty, make that five hundred across
on Goldenball in the fifth at Belmont.
All the men start talking to Floogle at once.
FRED FLOOGLE
(to the men)
Quiet! Quiet, please!
(into the phone)
Of course, the will won't be read until
tomorrow morning...
(beat, into the phone)
Well, if you're not worried, I'm not worried.
Floogle hands the phone to one of the hotel staff who carries it off.
FRED FLOOGLE
(to the men)
He's not worried.
At the suite's front door, two bellboys stand at the ready. Abruptly, the
pretentious PARKER enters the suite and brushes past them carrying a bouquet
of flowers.
PARKER
Yoo hoo. Anybody home?
EVE FLOOGLE
Ohhhh! Mr. Parker!
PARKER
(offers her the bouquet)
For you, Mrs. Floogle.
Eve accepts the bouquet but Floogle, still surrounded by his mob, freaks out.
FRED FLOOGLE
Hold everything, gentlemen. Something just
crawled out of the woodwork.
Floogle leaves the men, joins his wife, takes the bouquet from her and throws
it on the floor.
EVE FLOOGLE
Fred!
FRED FLOOGLE
(to Eve)
I know what I'm doing.
(darkly, to Parker)
That'll be all, Parker. And the next time you
call, use the tradesman's entrance.
Floogle slowly backs a nervous Parker up to the door.
PARKER
Well, I may have been a bit hasty but when I
realized that my son and your daughter were in
love--
FRED FLOOGLE
What you realized, Mr. Parker, is that now I'm
worth twelve million dollars.
PARKER
Oh, it isn't the money. Why should these two
young people suffer because we've had a
misunderstanding? After all, my son is--
FRED FLOOGLE
I have nothing against your son. It's simply,
in view of his antecedents, I think that a
marriage between your son and my daughter can
only end in social catastrophe.
(to a bellboy)
Boy! Open the door.
The boy rushes to open the door.
FRED FLOOGLE
Mr. Parker, we have no time for social
climbers.
The boy opens the door and Floogle violently shoves Parker out of the suite.
FRED FLOOGLE
Boy! Slam the door.
The boy does so.
FRED FLOOGLE
So much for the hoi polloi.
(to the men)
Now, gentlemen, where were we?
The men instantly begin talking at once. Eve, a little astonished at her
husband's intensity, returns to her own little mob. Two hotel staff members
haul a giant pinball machine into the suite.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Uh oh! A pinball machine. Floogle's twelve
million won't last him long now.
FRED FLOOGLE
Be careful with that pinball machine, boys.
Don't tilt. Take it into my den I'll put it in
my vault in the morning.
BUSBY, the diminutive hotel manager, enters carrying an enormous moose head.
BUSBY
(proudly)
Compliments of the management!
FRED FLOOGLE
We don't want any broken down ornaments.
Where's the rest of that moose?
BUSBY
(taken aback)
I'll check on it right away.
A chastened Busby scurries off. Abruptly, an entire tribe of Native American
Indians enters the suite.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Usually, only westerns have Indian raids. This
is the first "Eastern" to employ this thrilling
dramatic ingredient.
INDIAN CHIEF
(saluting Floogle)
How!
Floogle does a double take. He's speechless.
INDIAN CHIEF
How! Big Chief Floogle!
FRED FLOOGLE
Oh, there must be some mistake. I'm just plain
F. Trumble Floogle.
INDIAN CHIEF
No more F. Trumble Floogle. Tribe make you Big
Chief Floogle.
One of the natives breaks away from the tribe to affix a feather to Floogle's
head.
FRED FLOOGLE
Hey, what's going on here? I never expected
anything like this.
INDIAN CHIEF
My squaws make blanket for you.
The blanket is draped over Floogle's shoulder.
FRED FLOOGLE
Well, this is certainly a great honor, Chief.
Really, I didn't expect to be made a mem--
Floogle feels something attached to the blanket.
FRED FLOOGLE
Say, what is this, a price tag?
INDIAN CHIEF
Oh, for you -- because you're member of tribe
-- only seventy-two dollars wholesale.
FRED FLOOGLE
(stunned)
How!
INDIAN CHIEF
Never mind how. Gimme the seventy-two dollars.
Floogle glances around the room in amazement.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. LAWYER'S OFFICE - DAY
Next morning. A sign reads: PIKE, THROPPET, ROOP & PIKE - ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. LAWYER'S OFFICE - DAY
Before some elaborate stained glass windows, the cadaverous man-in-black,
Jefferson T. Pike, rises from his desk to confront Fred and Eve Floogle.
Floogle wears a new suit. Eve, a mink coat.
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
Yes, your grand-uncle was not only my best
friend but my best client for twenty-five years
until this unfortunate accident.
Pike dabs his teary eyes with a hankie.
FRED FLOOGLE
Yes, unfortunate indeed.
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
Yes, well, we all have to go sometime.
The office door CREAKS open.
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
Oh, pardon me, Mr. and Mrs. Floogle, Mr. Arnold
and Mr. Gardiner.
ARNOLD, tall and thin, and GARDINER, short and balding, are a couple of
fashionably dressed, crooked businessmen. They join the Floogles.
MR. GARDINER
How do you do?
MR. ARNOLD
Permit me to extend my deepest sympathy.
MR. GARDINER
And mine, too.
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
(to the Floogles)
These two gentlemen were business associates of
Mr. Trumble. I asked them here to clarify a
rather unexpected development.
FRED FLOOGLE
Unexpected development? I'm still sole heir to
the estate?
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
Oh, yes. Nobody can dispute that, Mr. Floogle.
FRED FLOOGLE
Oh, you had me worried there for a minute.
You see, I owe my hotel, the tailor, the
jeweler, my bookmaker...
Pike smiles, then shakes his head and clicks his tongue. Arnold and Gardiner
begin clicking their tongues as well. The Floogles look worried.
FRED FLOOGLE
What do you mean...?
(Floogle clicks his own tongue)
Something wrong with the estate?
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
Oh, no. Nothing's wrong. But I'm afraid it's
not quite as large as you expected. Not quite
the twelve million the newspapers spoke about.
Pike returns to his desk.
FRED FLOOGLE
Well, another million more or less won't make
any difference, Mr. Pike. After all, I was
only interested in my grand-uncle and not in
his money.
EVE FLOOGLE
Yes. Poor Uncle Albert.
FRED FLOOGLE
Frederick.
EVE FLOOGLE
Oh.
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
I'm glad you feel that way.... because the
entire estate consists of...
(reads from will)
... one pool table, with rack and balls
complete... and five chairs.
The Floogles look stricken.
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
The pool table is to be held in trust for an
aunt in Minnesota. But the five chairs, I'm
happy to say, go to you -- free and clear of
all encumbrance.
FRED FLOOGLE
Go on.
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
That's all.
FRED FLOOGLE
That's all? Pool table? Chairs? No money?
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
No money.
MR. ARNOLD
No.
MR. GARDINER
No money.
MR. ARNOLD
No money.
THE FLOOGLES
(disappointed and distraught)
Ohhhh.
FRED FLOOGLE
Marty the Goniff will beat me to death with old
racing forms.
EVE FLOOGLE
(rises, confronts Pike)
What's happened to the money? That's what we
want to know!
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
Well, there were a number of circumstances--
EVE FLOOGLE
Twelve million circumstances! And what became
of them?
(sits, folds her arms)
We're gonna stay here until we find out!
FRED FLOOGLE
(to Messrs. Arnold and Gardiner)
You were his partners. If my grand-uncle went
broke, why didn't you?
As the crooks speak, they are drowned out by another Fred Allen voice-over:
FRED ALLEN
(v.o., off Mr. Arnold)
Look at the black-ribbed gloves on that slicker!
Say, this dude is up to some dirty work. Hey,
are those gloves? Maybe the veins are coming
through on the back of his hands.
MR. ARNOLD
... eccentric man, so we bowed out.
EVE FLOOGLE
Hmmph! Just out of idle curiosity, how do you
get rid of twelve million dollars?
MR. ARNOLD
Mr. Trumble piddled his money away. A few
million here, a few million there.
EVE FLOOGLE
Mm hmm. That's nice piddling.
MR. GARDINER
In one stock market deal alone he lost three
million.
MR. ARNOLD
Yes. And there was that motion picture company.
Pike is suddenly at Eve's side, startling her.
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
And, of course, there was a woman or two.
FRED FLOOGLE
(mildly offended)
A woman or two? My grand-uncle was in his
seventies!
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
(also seventy, deeply offended)
So what?!
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. LAWYER'S OFFICE - DAY
Some time later, the Floogles wearily emerge from the office.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Floogle's wife's name is Eve. Hey, the way
things are going, Eve probably wishes she was
back with Adam.
EVE FLOOGLE
(downcast)
Poor kids. Homer can't go to college and
Marion won't be able to get married.
FRED FLOOGLE
(puts an arm around her)
Oh, buck up, Eve. We made twelve million
before, we can make it again.
Nearby, the family dog BARKS. Floogle watches as it scratches itself.
FRED FLOOGLE
Worst comes to worst, we can always go back in
the flea business.
EVE FLOOGLE
(loses it completely)
No! Not that!
Eve begins to strangle her husband.
FRED FLOOGLE
That's what I like about you, Eve. Any other
woman would've gone to pieces.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. TOPPINGHAM TOWERS - HALLWAY - NIGHT
A door marked 702.
PARKER'S VOICE (o.s.)
Oh, I can't tonight, Mr. Busby. I've got
tickets to the opera.
BUSBY'S VOICE (o.s.)
I don't care what you have tickets for, Parker!
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. ROOM 702 (PARKER'S ROOM) - NIGHT
Busby, the tiny hotel manager, confronts Parker who wears top hat and tails
and carries a fancy cane under his arm.
BUSBY
(shouting)
You have a contract with this hotel whereby you
get your room free--!
PARKER
(looks around nervously)
Sssshhhh!
BUSBY
Don't you shush me! You get your room free for
exterminating rodents, insects, and pests about
these premises. And five-oh-four...!
(lowers his voice)
...has insects.
PARKER
I treated five-oh-four yesterday. If there are
any insects in there--
BUSBY
(shouting)
You want to ruin the--?!
(lowers his voice)
You want to ruin the hotel?
PARKER
If there are any insects in there, the occupant
must have brought them in with him.
BUSBY
I'll have you understand, Mr. Parker, that
five-oh-four is occupied by Lady Floyd Scott.
PARKER
Well, I wouldn't want to say anything against
Lady Floyd Scott, but is she alone?
BUSBY
No. She is definitely not alone. The insects
are with her. That's why she's complaining.
(heads for the door)
I shall expect you down in ten minutes.
(opens the door, turns to Parker)
You either get the rat out of five-oh-four or
I'll get the rat out of, er...
(looks at Parker's door)
... seven-oh-two!
Busby shuts the door and leaves. A disgusted Parker strides to a closet.
PARKER
Calling a rat an insect! Fabulous!
Parker opens the closet door, throws his cane in it, and removes his jacket.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. PARKER'S ROOM - NIGHT
A few minutes later. Parker, in top hat and exterminator's uniform, fills a
large suitcase with supplies, naming each item as he does.
PARKER
Ant paste. Termite's Delight. Roach powder.
(shrugs)
Well, who knows? Vitamins. Those are for me.
(pockets the vitamins)
Saw. For snakes.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
That looks like my mother-in-law's vanity case.
Parker shuts the suitcase.
CUT TO:
INT. TOPPINGHAM TOWERS - NIGHT
Outside room 702 stand Fred and Eve Floogle. Eve holds a bouquet of flowers
and RINGS the buzzer. A bellboy stands by with a tray of food. Floogle
paces the hall.
FRED FLOOGLE
I don't mind losing twelve million dollars. I
don't mind being beaten to death by Marty. I
don't even mind being sued by this hotel. But
why do I have to apologize to that pothead?
EVE FLOOGLE
Because the least you can do is see your
daughter comfortably married before you go to
jail.
As she speaks, the door opens and Parker appears in his bathrobe. Floogle
points towards him.
FRED FLOOGLE
(quietly, to Eve)
The pothead...
Eve turns, hands Parker the flowers, and continues on into his room.
EVE FLOOGLE
Oh, Mr. Parker!
Floogle throws his arms wide, embraces a very confused Parker, and leads him
into the room.
FRED FLOOGLE
Parker, old man! We never see you these
days!
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. PARKER'S ROOM - NIGHT
Moments later. A hotel employee serves wine to Parker and the Floogles who
sit around making small talk. Parker still holds the flowers.
EVE FLOOGLE
Oh, yes!
PARKER
Well, I think it's nice...
EVE FLOOGLE
(off the wine)
Here we are.
PARKER
(off the wine)
Oh, my.
EVE FLOOGLE
(hands Parker a glass)
For Mr. Parker.
PARKER
Ooh, what big bubbles!
FRED FLOOGLE
Yes, they had big grapes that year.
EVE FLOOGLE
(a toast, to Parker)
To your son.
PARKER
To your daughter.
FRED FLOOGLE
To our grandchildren. I'm just looking ahead.
The hotel employee brings a tray of caviar.
EMPLOYEE
If you please.
FRED FLOOGLE
Mmmm! Caviar. Nineteen-twelve, a great
sturgeon year.
PARKER
Oh, I can't tell you how I waited for this day.
It's not just the merging of two great
fortunes--
FRED FLOOGLE
Aw, now, let's leave money out of this.
EVE FLOOGLE
(rises, looks around)
This is a nice little place you have here, Mr.
Parker.
Eve sees something that looks like a piece of modern sculpture.
EVE FLOOGLE
Oh, what's that? A Rembrandt?
PARKER
(rises, crosses to it)
No, no. That's my son's invention.
EVE FLOOGLE
Oh.
PARKER
(to Floogle)
You've heard of that, haven't you?
FRED FLOOGLE
Yes, my daughter was telling me about Perry's
invention. How does it work?
PARKER
Well, of course, what it really needs to make
it work is fifty thousand dollars.
FRED FLOOGLE
Oh, fifty-- My daughter was telling me about
that part of the invention, too. Ah, heh heh
heh...
EVE FLOOGLE
Yes, does it really catch mice?
PARKER
Does it catch mice? My dear Mrs. Floogle, will
you allow--
(points out a chair to Floogle)
Mr. Floogle, will you come here and sit,
please? I think you'll be interested. Just
right here.
Floogle moves to the chair. He and Eve watch attentively as Parker pulls the
invention away from the wall.
PARKER
Does it catch mice! Here we are. You notice
it looks a little like an aquarium. Well, my
son set out to invent an aquarium and then he
found from Washington that patents had been
issued on an aquarium... in 1858. Rather than
waste the material, he turned it into a
mousetrap.
The Floogles stare at the invention skeptically. It's a cutaway view of a
tiny wooden staircase inside a square wooden frame about the size of a large
briefcase.
PARKER
(off the top of the staircase)
Now, up here you see we have a little
receptacle where we put a piece of toasted
cheese. I don't suppose either one of you has
a piece of toasted cheese on you, have you?
FRED FLOOGLE
I'm afraid not. Sorry.
PARKER
Oh, that's all right. Some other time. Now,
the mouse smells the aroma of the cheese --
wafted off here, you see. But the house mouse,
the common house mouse -- a muss musculous --
is a very wary customer and will not enter the
trap without giving the matter some thought.
So he circles it 'round and 'round, mulling the
whole thing over until he discovers that
there's only one entrance. Get it?
Parker points out the entrance through a door in the frame situated in front
of the bottom of the staircase. The Floogles confer.
FRED FLOOGLE
(quietly, to Eve)
Only one entrance? If there are two mice, what
happens?
EVE FLOOGLE
They stand in line.
FRED FLOOGLE
Oh.
Parker ignores the Floogles and goes on with his demonstration.
PARKER
Well, the mouse has now made up his mind so he
comes in through this little entrance here.
Then he or she, as the case may be -- the
trap works equally well for female mice as for
male -- comes up this little incline here which
turns out to be a teeter board.
FRED FLOOGLE
(quietly, to Eve)
What's a teeter board?
EVE FLOOGLE
It's a board that teeters.
Parker's tedious explanation is fortuitously drowned out by another Fred
Allen voice-over:
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
There's an old saying: if a man builds a better
mousetrap, the world will beat a path to his
door. Now, to me, that's silly. If a man gets
a cat, he won't have to bother building a
mousetrap and the world won't come around
pestering him...
EVE FLOOGLE
So, he's hungry.
FRED FLOOGLE
If he's hungry why doesn't he go in a
restaurant like anybody else?
EVE FLOOGLE
Sshh.
Parker, caught up in his presentation, continues to ignore the Floogles. It
seems that each step on the tiny staircase is a sort of teeter board.
PARKER
Well, each time he steps on one of these
things, you see, it closes down behind him like
this. So he goes on up, gets caught every
time...
FRED FLOOGLE
(eyes glazing over in disgust)
Yes, yes.
PARKER
... stumbles on up to where the cheese is.
Steps on this, which is another teeter board,
see? Drops right into a receptacle full of
water...
The receptacle of water is a cheap paper cup under the staircase, glued to
the wooden frame.
FRED FLOOGLE
Yes, yes.
PARKER
Then he paddles around for a while until he
sees the jig is up -- and drowns. Consumer
comes in in the morning...
FRED FLOOGLE
(fidgeting badly)
Yes, yes.
PARKER
...discovers the body, disposes of it, fills it
full of fresh water, and you're ready for
another mouse. Are there any questions?
FRED FLOOGLE
(quietly, to Eve)
Yeah, how do we get out of here?
EVE FLOOGLE
Sh!
(amiably, to Parker)
It looks a little complicated.
PARKER
I knew you'd see it my way! Now, what do you
say we start the young folks off right?
(grabs a checkbook)
Twenty-five thousand from me, twenty-five
thousand from you. Sign right here.
Parker hands the blank checks to Floogle. The phone RINGS.
PARKER
Pardon me.
As the Floogles exchange glances, Parker answers the phone.
PARKER
Hello?
We CUT BACK AND FORTH between Busby in room 504 and Parker in 702.
BUSBY
I'm in five-oh-four, Parker! Where are you?!
PARKER
(nervously glances at the Floogles)
Oh, why, I'm right here.
BUSBY
Lady Floyd Scott just fainted! There's a mouse
in her closet!
PARKER
Uh, how big is it?
(beat)
Mm, it sounds big indeed. Uh, I'll tell you
what, old chap. Supposing I, er, drop down and
look the situation over? Righto!
Parker hangs up and confers with the Floogles.
PARKER
Great old girl, Lady Floyd Scott. Always after
me.
(rubbing his hands, to Floogle)
Well, have we signed?
FRED FLOOGLE
No. Before I commit myself, old man, I'd like
to see how this trap works with a real mouse.
The phone RINGS again. Parker glances at it forlornly.
PARKER
(cryptic)
Don't go away. I think I know where I can get
you one.
Parker picks up the mousetrap and heads off to get his exterminator gear.
FADE OUT
INT. FLOOGLE'S SUITE - DAY
FADE IN the next morning as a depressed Fred and Eve Floogle sit at the
breakfast table. A pajama-clad Floogle, hand to his head, isn't very hungry
for the sumptuous meal laid out before him. He reads a newspaper as his
happy daughter Marion skips up to the table to give hugs and kisses to her
folks.
MARION FLOOGLE
Perry and I are going to the City Hall for the
license.
EVE FLOOGLE
Don't forget the dressmaker's this afternoon.
MARION FLOOGLE
I won't. Oh, Daddy! It's the most beautiful
wedding dress I ever saw. And it's only a
thousand dollars.
Marion skips off.
FRED FLOOGLE
Only a thousand dollars. Where am I gonna get
a thousand dollars?
EVE FLOOGLE
The same place you're gonna get the twenty-five
thousand you put up for Perry's invention.
FRED FLOOGLE
Well, Perry better sit down and figure out a
way to invent twenty-five thousand dollars.
(off Marion)
Didn't you tell her?
EVE FLOOGLE
No. No, I didn't. And I'm not going to.
FRED FLOOGLE
Oh, all right, have it your way. I don't mind
giving the bride away from a cozy little cell
in Sing Sing but how am I gonna throw rice
when I'm strapped in the electric chair?
The doorbell BUZZES.
EVE FLOOGLE
(calls out)
Homer!?
Homer rushes to answer the door.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Hey, what's this?! Confidentially, I know
what's gonna happen -- but if I tell you, the
theater will be emptied in two minutes.
Homer opens the door and a DELIVERY MAN enters, pushing a dolly stacked with
the five antique chairs seen earlier. The man starts to unload them.
DELIVERY MAN
Five chairs for Mr. Floogle.
EVE FLOOGLE
(ironic, to Floogle)
Our legacy.
FRED FLOOGLE
(rises, to the Delivery Man)
I don't want them! Take them away! Feed them
to the termites!
Homer inspects the chairs as the Delivery Man takes out a receipt book.
DELIVERY MAN
Wise guy! And who's gonna pay the six dollar
delivery charges -- termites?
Eve rises and joins her husband.
FRED FLOOGLE
I don't care who pays it. I don't want any
part of them.
HOMER FLOOGLE
Wait a minute, Dad. I bet Finley's Antique
Shop will pay a couple of hundred dollars for
them.
FRED FLOOGLE
(stunned, to Homer)
A couple of hundred dollars? Well, take 'em
to Finley's. What are you waiting for?
DELIVERY MAN
I'm waitin' for my six bucks.
HOMER FLOOGLE
(to the Delivery Man)
Look, Mister, you drive me down to Finley's and
I'll pay ya seven bucks.
DELIVERY MAN
Now you're talkin'!
The Delivery Man pockets his receipt book and helps Homer re-load the chairs.
DELIVERY MAN
(to Homer)
With you, I can do business.
(off Floogle)
But with that guy -- huh! What do you expect
from a bum who's still in his pajamas at ten in
the morning?
Homer and the Delivery Man exit with the chairs.
FRED FLOOGLE
Eve! Did you hear that?
EVE FLOOGLE
Yes. A bum that's still in his pajamas at ten
in the morning.
FRED FLOOGLE
No, not that. The two hundred dollars.
(grandly, as if their
problems were solved)
Where's my racing form?
EVE FLOOGLE
Listen, dunderhead, you owe Marty the Goniff
ten thousand dollars now! If you make another
bet--!
The door to the suite OPENS. The Floogles turn to it and stare.
EVE FLOOGLE
(startled)
Oh!
VOICE (o.s.)
Mr. Floogle?
FRED FLOOGLE
Yeah? What do you want?
The ominous figure of DETECTIVE SULLY (of the New York Police Department)
moves slowly from the door toward the Floogles. Dressed in black, he looks
and acts rather like a malevolent version of Sidney Toler's Charlie Chan.
DETECTIVE SULLY
Oh, nothing much.
Sully pauses to pluck an apple from a nearby bowl of fruit.
DETECTIVE SULLY
Nothing much.
Sully CHOMPS down loudly on the apple. Mouth full, he chews broadly while
confronting the Floogles.
FRED FLOOGLE
It's customary to ring the bell before coming
into other people's apartments.
DETECTIVE SULLY
(flashes his badge)
Yeah, I know. I just wanted to surprise you.
EVE FLOOGLE
Is there something wrong, Inspector?
DETECTIVE SULLY
I'm not sure. Mind if I have a look around?
Sully starts to wander around the suite.
FRED FLOOGLE
No. No.
(whispers, to Eve)
Cancel the dress.
DETECTIVE SULLY
(off the suite)
Hey, you two do all right, don't you?
The Floogles flinch as Sully takes another wicked CHOMP out of his apple.
DETECTIVE SULLY
(points to a door)
Bedroom?
FRED FLOOGLE
Yes.
The Floogles watch worriedly as Sully disappears into the bedroom. Eve
removes her earrings.
EVE FLOOGLE
Well, here goes. You better take those pajamas
off. They're not paid for, either.
FRED FLOOGLE
Now, take it easy, Eve. I'll get the best
lawyer money can buy.
EVE FLOOGLE
With what?
Sully abruptly returns with a pair of trousers.
FRED FLOOGLE
Hey! Those are my pants!
DETECTIVE SULLY
I know. Were you wearing these last Tuesday
night?
FRED FLOOGLE
Yeah. Why?
DETECTIVE SULLY
Think I'll take 'em down to headquarters and
see if there are any blood stains on 'em.
FRED & EVE FLOOGLE
Blood stains!?
DETECTIVE SULLY
Yeah. We've learned your uncle did not shoot
himself. He was killed.
The Floogles exchange glances. This is news to them.
DETECTIVE SULLY
And the gun put into his hand by some person
unknown. That is, unknown up to now.
FRED FLOOGLE
Are you implying -- ?
DETECTIVE SULLY
I'm not implying anything. I've got a theory.
Who stood to benefit by Mr. Trumble's death?
Fred Floogle. Who got the twelve million?
Fred Floogle. Who am I after?
(before Floogle can say anything)
You said it.
Sully heads for the front door.
FRED FLOOGLE
Twelve million!
EVE FLOOGLE
All we got were five chairs.
DETECTIVE SULLY
(skeptical)
Five chairs. Then how you living in this
place? Don't tell me one of your fleas came
into some money.
FRED FLOOGLE
Hey, do I get my pants back?
DETECTIVE SULLY
(looking at the pants)
All depends.
Sully exits, taking the trousers with him.
EVE FLOOGLE
A murder charge on top of everything else.
What are we gonna do now?
The Floogles slump to the arm of a sofa. Floogle puts his arm around Eve.
FRED FLOOGLE
I'll tell you what we're gonna do. We're gonna
pack. As soon as Homer gets back here with
that two hundred dollars, we'll take it and
blow. We can start life all over again in some
little town in the Middle West.
The phone RINGS.
EVE FLOOGLE
Answer the phone.
FRED FLOOGLE
What if it's the cops?
EVE FLOOGLE
Oh, don't be silly. Answer the phone.
Floogle reluctantly rises and answers the RINGING phone. He scrunches up his
face and adopts a ludicrous Chinese accent.
FRED FLOOGLE
Mister Floogle apartment. Hello, please?
(beat)
No, no, Mister Floogle not here. Mister
Floogle go out of town. Catchum important
business.
We CUT BACK AND FORTH between Floogle in the suite and Homer in a PAY PHONE
at the antique shop where the chairs are being auctioned off. Homer also
adopts a ridiculous Chinese accent to mock his father.
HOMER FLOOGLE
Too bad. When Mister Floogle come back, you
tell him Mister Finley has offered two hundred
and fifty dollar for chairs.
FRED FLOOGLE
(normal voice, annoyed)
Cut out that Chinese dialect, Homer, and grab
the two-fifty!
HOMER FLOOGLE
Suppose I can get three hundred?
FRED FLOOGLE
Take it!
HOMER FLOOGLE
Don't rush me, Pop! If I do get three hundred,
is there a ten dollar bonus in it for me?
FRED FLOOGLE
Yes, you little Shylock, but get it fast.
I've gotta get some money here in a hurry.
Floogle hangs up and turns to Eve.
FRED FLOOGLE
Three hundred instead of two!
EVE FLOOGLE
Oh, great. Now we can start life all over
again in some BIG town in the Middle West.
The doorbell BUZZES.
FRED FLOOGLE
It's probably that detective again. He found
out the pants fit him, now he's back for the
coat.
(calls out)
Coming!
The Floogles go to the door. Floogle opens it to reveal two large,
grim-faced uniformed police officers. Floogle's eyes pop in terror.
1ST OFFICER
Mr. Floogle?
Floogle thinks he's about to be arrested.
FRED FLOOGLE
(weakly)
If you'll just give me... time to get dressed.
Suddenly, a well-dressed LITTLE MAN emerges from behind the officers.
LITTLE MAN
(to Floogle)
I'm from the Ninth National Bank.
FRED FLOOGLE
I told Parker not to deposit that check until
Sunday.
LITTLE MAN
Your grand-uncle left this package to be
delivered to his heir after his death.
The man hands Floogle a package the size of a phonograph record.
FRED FLOOGLE
Oh.
(off the uniformed officers)
But these plainclothesmen?
LITTLE MAN
We never deliver anything like this without a
police escort. Policy of the bank.
FRED FLOOGLE
Say, it must be something very valuable.
LITTLE MAN
(proffers a receipt book)
Will you sign this, please?
Eve rushes over, rips the package out of Floogle's hand, and starts to tear
it open. Floogle signs the receipt.
FRED FLOOGLE
I knew my grand-uncle Frederick wouldn't cut me
off with just five chairs!
LITTLE MAN
Good day, sir.
The Little Man and his police escort depart. Floogle turns to Eve just as
she gets the package open.
FRED FLOOGLE
I wonder what's in it.
EVE FLOOGLE
A phonograph record!
(loses it completely)
A phonograph record and five chairs! Oooh, I
wish your--
Eve tries to hurl the record away but Floogle stops her and takes it from
her. Upset, Eve rushes off toward the bedroom. Floogle follows.
FRED FLOOGLE
Wait a minute! Wait a minute! We got three
hundred dollars for the chairs, maybe we can
get seventy-five cents for the record.
EVE FLOOGLE
Seventy-five cents for the record! Why, it
hasn't even got a name on it!
FRED FLOOGLE
Well, let's play it and find out what it is.
EVE FLOOGLE
You play it! I'm going back and pack up here!
Last time I ever marry a flea trainer!
Eve disappears into the bedroom while Floogle puts the record on a handy
phonograph player.
FRED FLOOGLE
(ironic, to himself)
If it turns out I murdered my grand-uncle for
five chairs and this -- oh, brother!
Floogle drops the needle on the record and listens expectantly. MUSIC plays.
FRANK SINATRA
(crooning inimitably)
... we will meet again ...
FRED FLOOGLE
(winces)
Oh, no! Not that! Anything but that!
Eve appears in the bedroom doorway.
EVE FLOOGLE
It could have been worse! It could have been
one chair and five Sinatras!
Unseen by the Floogles, two of the bad guys, Messrs. Arnold and Gardiner
sneak onto the penthouse balcony and eavesdrop at their window.
FRED FLOOGLE
Well, let's see what's on the other side.
Floogle flips the record over and drops the needle on it.
TRUMBLE'S VOICE
(spookily, from the phonograph)
This is your grand-uncle Trumble speaking from
the graaaaaave. Are you listening?
FRED FLOOGLE
(stunned)
Yes, sir.
Eve timidly emerges from the bedroom to joins her husband during the
following. They listen in awe.
TRUMBLE'S VOICE
If I died a natural death, I command you to
destroy this record. But if I died by violence,
this will tell you who is responsible. The
evidence is concealed in one of the five chairs
I left you.
On the balcony, Arnold and Gardiner exchange worried glances.
TRUMBLE'S VOICE
In that same chair, you will find three hundred
thousand dollars -- which I managed to salvage
from the vultures who dissipated my estate.
EVE FLOOGLE
Fred! Three hundred thousand dollars!
FRED FLOOGLE
(to Eve)
But who are the crooks?
Eve shrugs.
TRUMBLE'S VOICE
I'm glad you asked that, Fred.
The Floogles stare at the phonograph in surprise.
TRUMBLE'S VOICE
You will find their names in the chair!
Hearing this, Arnold and Gardiner turn and leave.
TRUMBLE'S VOICE
Avenge me, my boy! And now, goodbye.
FRED FLOOGLE
Goodbye.
EVE FLOOGLE
Goodbye.
Floogle switches off the phonograph.
EVE FLOOGLE
Fred! Three hundred thousand dollars!
FRED FLOOGLE
Yes, but it's in one of the chairs!
Where are the chairs?
(realizes and starts freaking out)
Homer! Finley! Finley!
In a panic, the Floogles rush to the phone. Floogle picks up the phone and
speaks into it while Eve looks up the number in the phone book.
FRED FLOOGLE
(into the phone)
Hello? Hello, Finley's? Finley?
EVE FLOOGLE
Will you quit sayin' hello! You haven't got
the number yet.
FRED FLOOGLE
(to Eve)
We haven't got that much time!
EVE FLOOGLE
Well, we'll get 'em.
FRED FLOOGLE
(into the phone)
Hello, Finley?
EVE FLOOGLE
Here it is!
(runs her finger down the page)
F-F-F-F-Finley!
(points out a number for Floogle)
There!
FRED FLOOGLE
(reads)
Bryant...
Floogle dials.
CUT TO:
INT. ANTIQUE SHOP - DAY
In an office, FINLEY, having auctioned off all five chairs, counts out the
cash for Homer.
FINLEY
Two-seventy, eighty, ninety. Three hundred.
Here, sign a receipt.
HOMER FLOOGLE
Not till I count it.
FINLEY
That's a good little businessman.
Homer starts counting as the phone RINGS. Finley picks up.
CUT TO:
INT. FLOOGLE'S SUITE - DAY
An intense Floogle is on the line. Eve watches anxiously. Throughout the
call, we CUT BACK AND FORTH between Floogle in his suite and Finley at his
antique shop.
FRED FLOOGLE
(into the phone)
Hello, Mr. Finley? This is Mr. Floogle.
(beat)
What do you care what Floogle? I just sent my
boy over there with five chairs.
(beat)
What? They've been sold? That boy was a
minor, Finley! He had no right to sell those
chairs. You'd better get them back or I'll
prosecute you to the limit of the law.
FINLEY
All I can do now is give you a list of the
people who bought the chairs.
Homer finishes counting the cash and pockets it.
FRED FLOOGLE
Give the list to my son and if those chairs
aren't recovered immediately, Mr. Finley,
you'll hear from my solicitor in the morning.
(to Eve, as he hangs up)
How do you like a guy like that?!
(paces the room)
Any strange kid walks into his joint with five
chairs -- he buys them! He's nothing but a
receiver for stolen goods -- a fence, that's
all he is!
EVE FLOOGLE
Now, Fred, take it easy!
FRED FLOOGLE
Take it easy! My own son steals five chairs,
sells them to a crooked antique dealer, and you
say "Take it easy"?! How would you like it if
your son--
EVE FLOOGLE
(tries to reason with him)
Why, you--
FRED FLOOGLE
You bet you wouldn't like it!
Floogle picks up the phone and starts talking into it.
FRED FLOOGLE
Hello, Finley? Finley, five minutes have
elapsed -- do you realize that? -- and that
list isn't here yet!
(beat)
Answer me, Finley!
(to Eve)
How do you like that? The guy won't even
answer the phone!
EVE FLOOGLE
Well, why don't you try dialing?
FRED FLOOGLE
Oh, yes, I--
Floogle dials.
CUT TO:
INT. ANTIQUE SHOP - DAY
Sitting at his desk under a large skylight, Finley draws up a list for Homer.
FINLEY
Chair, six fifty-two, sold to Mrs.--
The phone RINGS.
FINLEY
(to Homer)
That father of yours must be a madman.
Unseen by Homer and Finley, a mysterious shadowy figure sneaks past the
skylight above.
HOMER FLOOGLE
Well, you know, after all those years in the
jungle...
FINLEY
Jungle? What was he doing in a jungle?
HOMER FLOOGLE
Catching fleas.
Finley answers the RINGING phone.
CUT TO:
INT. FLOOGLE'S SUITE - DAY
Eve watches as a wild-eyed Floogle talks on the phone.
FRED FLOOGLE
(into the phone)
Finley? Where's that list? It's been at least
five minutes and nothing has happened.
(beat)
You're giving it to the boy? Is the boy still
there?
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Watch this closely. This scene is Floogle's
bid for the Academy Award.
FRED FLOOGLE
Well, what's keeping him, Finley?
(beat)
Are you sure that's what's keeping him? You
wouldn't want to face an additional charge of
kidnapping, would you?
The stress of losing the three hundred thousand has caused Floogle to go off
the deep end -- he LAUGHS like a madman. Eve draws back in fear. Terrified,
the family dog runs into the bedroom and hides under the bed.
CUT TO:
INT. ANTIQUE SHOP - DAY
Still seated at his office desk, Finley rips a piece of a paper off a pad and
hands it to Homer.
FINLEY
There! That's the list!
HOMER FLOOGLE
(glances at the list and
hands it back)
That's all right. I've got it.
FINLEY
You've got it?
(looks at list in his own hands)
I've got it.
HOMER FLOOGLE
Oh. Oh, I mean with my photographic mind, Mr.
Finley.
The shadowy figure appears at the skylight and lifts it open.
HOMER FLOOGLE
Why, I can read that list right back to you.
Do you want to hear me?
The figure hurls a flaming bundle through the open skylight to the office
floor.
FINLEY
No, I've heard enough from you and your whole
family--!
The bundle EXPLODES. Startled, Homer and Finley try to escape but the office
instantly bursts into flames.
FINLEY
Oh!
Homer and Finley make for the door.
DISSOLVE TO:
The headline on the front page of the Daily News-Herald reads: $1,000,000
BLAZE SAVAGES FINLEY'S - POLICE HINT AT ARSON. We PAN DOWN to a photo of the
burning antique shop, captioned: FIREMEN BATTLE BLAZE.
CUT TO:
INT. LAWYER'S OFFICE - DAY
The next morning. Messrs. Arnold and Gardiner sit and read newspapers.
MR. ARNOLD
(chuckling)
Wasn't that a terrible fire?
Nearby, the cadaverous lawyer Pike wears a top hat and plays the pipe organ.
He says something to Arnold and Gardiner but it's drowned out by yet another
Fred Allen voice-over.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
It's a great help if your lawyer can play the
organ. You know you'll get a run for your
money.
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
...being destroyed.
MR. GARDINER
I hope the poor fellow was insured.
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
I wonder how it started.
MR. GARDINER
Mmm, if you can believe the papers, somebody
threw a mass of burning rags through the
skylight.
MR. ARNOLD
(happily)
And that, my friends, is that.
Pike hits a sour note on the organ and stops playing. He turns to Arnold and
Gardiner, ominously.
JEFFERSON T. PIKE
That, my friends, is NOT that. There are three
hundred thousand dollars in those chairs. To
you, that may be a pittance. But, for me, it's
a pretty penny. Floogle will keep after those
chairs -- so we'll keep after Floogle.
Pike turns back to the keyboard as we
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. TOPPINGHAM TOWERS - FLOOGLE'S BEDROOM - DAY
An unkempt Floogle sits at Homer's bedside. Homer, apparently injured in the
fire, lies half-conscious in the bed. Eve and Marion enter the room.
FRED FLOOGLE
(to Eve and Marion)
Sshh! Sshh!
(rises, off Homer)
He's almost asleep.
EVE FLOOGLE
Yes, but you haven't slept a wink all night.
FRED FLOOGLE
(with a grand gesture)
This is a father's place.
(ushers the women out)
Suppose you fix him some broth, Mother? We'll
give it to him the minute he wakes up.
EVE FLOOGLE
All right.
Floogle shuts the door, then rushes to Homer and shakes him violently.
FRED FLOOGLE
Homer! Homer! Wake up! Homer! Wake up! Can
you see who this is? Put your glasses on.
(puts glasses on Homer)
Homer! Are you sure Finley didn't give you
that list?
HOMER FLOOGLE
I don't know, Dad.
FRED FLOOGLE
Well, you must have seen some of the names on
there.
HOMER FLOOGLE
Yes, Dad, but then the fire...
FRED FLOOGLE
Homer! Try to remember. Don't you realize how
important this is? If we don't find those
chairs, your sister Marion can't get married,
I'll go to jail, your mother'll go to the
poorhouse.
HOMER FLOOGLE
But I can't remember.
FRED FLOOGLE
Homer! You're the boy with the great retentive
memory!
The family dog watches with concern as Floogle sits at Homer's bedside, takes
Homer by the shoulders, pulls him off his pillow and into an uncomfortable
sitting position, and shakes him violently, trying to coax the information
out of him.
FRED FLOOGLE
Homer, you saw the list, didn't ya? Remember
the first name on the list, Homer? Was it a
man? Mister Something, was it? Mrs.? Was it a
woman, a lady? Do you remember? The number,
the street, Homer, do you remember?
HOMER FLOOGLE
Three... seven, four...
FRED FLOOGLE
Three-seven-four. And the street?
HOMER FLOOGLE
Three-seven-four West Forsythe Street.
FRED FLOOGLE
West Forsythe Street.
HOMER FLOOGLE
Apartment 12-A.
FRED FLOOGLE
(triumphant)
Apartment 12-A! Attaboy, Homer! I knew
you could do it.
Floogle brusquely throws Homer back onto his pillow, rises, and rushes off.
FRED FLOOGLE
Apartment 12-A!
Floogle heads out the door.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. APARTMENT HALLWAY - DAY
Not long after. Floogle, in hat, suit and tie, finds Apartment 12-A and
KNOCKS. The door opens to reveal MRS. PANSY NUSSBAUM, a tiny, feisty Jewish
woman with a rather thick accent.
MRS. NUSSBAUM
Nu?
FRED FLOOGLE
(removes his hat)
Mrs. Nussbaum?
MRS. NUSSBAUM
You are expecting maybe Sweet Rosie O'Grady?
FRED FLOOGLE
Oh, no, I'd like to speak to you for just a
minute.
MRS. NUSSBAUM
Outside I can speaking. Inside is the excuse
that I'm having company.
FRED FLOOGLE
Oh, company.
MRS. NUSSBAUM
The phone company. They're taking out mine
telephone.
FRED FLOOGLE
Well, if you'd rather have me call later...
MRS. NUSSBAUM
You could call -- without a telephone I couldn't
answer it.
FRED FLOOGLE
Well, look, Mrs. Nussbaum, all I want is
information.
MRS. NUSSBAUM
To getting Information, you are needing a
telephone!
FRED FLOOGLE
Now, please! Forget about the telephone. Did
you buy a chair at Finley's Auction Parlor?
MRS. NUSSBAUM
Yesterday. First I'm bidding, then I'm buying.
FRED FLOOGLE
I see.
MRS. NUSSBAUM
For twenty years, I'm saying to mineself,
Pansy Nussbaum, you are needing one more chair.
This year I am buying.
FRED FLOOGLE
Well, look, all--
MRS. NUSSBAUM
Possibly you are saying to yourself, "Why, for
twenty years, is Pansy Nussbaum needing one
more chair?" This I am explaining.
FRED FLOOGLE
But, really--
MRS. NUSSBAUM
The Nussbaums, every year -- continuously
eating and drinking -- is having a family
reunion.
FRED FLOOGLE
But what I--
MRS. NUSSBAUM
From near and far is coming Nussbaums. Big
Nussbaums, little Nussbaums. Young Nussbaums,
old Nussbaums. Thin Nussbaums, fat Nussbaums.
FRED FLOOGLE
Yes, but--
MRS. NUSSBAUM
Altogther is coming thirteen Nussbaums.
FRED FLOOGLE
Thirteen Nussbaums?
MRS. NUSSBAUM
But in mine house is only twelve chairs.
FRED FLOOGLE
I see.
MRS. NUSSBAUM
Always one Nussbaum is standing.
FRED FLOOGLE
Which one?
MRS. NUSSBAUM
Always the same Nussbaum. Mine grandfather,
Noel Nussbaum. An old man. He's eighty-seven.
FRED FLOOGLE
You mean the whole family sits down? You let
this poor old man stand during the entire
family reunion?
MRS. NUSSBAUM
The Nussbaums is first coming, first sitting.
Always mine grandfather is last. He is coming
from Wallaz Walla.
FRED FLOOGLE
Oh, he lives in Wallaz Walla.
MRS. NUSSBAUM
This is in Washington, a state.
FRED FLOOGLE
I know. For twenty years, your grandfather has
been the last one to arrive at the family
reunion and he has no place to sit.
And so it goes. Floogle, completely caught up in Mrs. Nussbaum's talk, walks
with her down the hall where they grab a seat on a bench. The conversation
goes on and on and on. All of this is drowned out by a lengthy Fred Allen
voice-over.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
You know, it's very easy to get confused while
you're watching a mystery. I always said if I
ever made a picture, I'd stop at one point in
the picture to explain the story to people who
came in late and to other people who were out
in the lobby buying candy bars. Now, this is
a very talky scene here, during which Mrs.
Nussbaum tells Floogle about her relatives.
While they are boring each other with some dull
dialogue, I'll tell you folks who have been
buying candy and have just come in what has
happened up to now.
(rapidly, almost incomprehensibly)
Floogle a rich man with a small flea circus is
the heir of a rich uncle who's been murdered.
There is some suspicion that Floogle is the
foul person who did the foul deed. The estate
was supposed to be twelve million dollars but
instead the estate consists only of five
chairs. Well, while he was getting ready to
kill himself to get the last laugh on his
creditors, a messenger delivers an old Sinatra
record. On the back of the record, Floogle's
uncle's voice tells him that in one of the
chairs was three hundred thousand dollars.
Now, this happens after the chairs have been
sold and now Floogle is on the trail of the
five chairs. One of the chairs has been sold
to Mrs. Nussbaum.
Allen pauses, catches his breath, and slows down considerably.
FRED ALLEN (v.o.)
Let us listen now while she goes on with her
story...
But Mrs. Nussbaum has finished her story and Floogle has mentioned the chair.
Floogle and Mrs. Nussbaum rise from the bench and walk back up the hall.
FRED FLOOGLE
... I'll take it off your hands.
MRS. NUSSBAUM
Oh, the chair I'm already selling.
FRED FLOOGLE
Selling? To whom?
MRS. NUSSBAUM
Whom knows? Some man. He is haggling but
ultimately he's buying.
FRED FLOOGLE
But who is he? Where does he live?
MRS. NUSSBAUM
One t'ing at a time, please.
(thinking)
His name is Park Avenue. Five-fifty-five. And
his address is, uh, Jack Benny.
FRED FLOOGLE
Thank you.
MRS. NUSSBAUM
Oh, I am also enjoying this little tete-a-tete,
thenk you.
Mrs. Nussbaum withdraws into her apartment. Floogle puts on his hat and
heads down a