Rose Nylund and Blanche Devereaux are in the living room when Dorothy Zbornak and Sophia Petrillo arrive.
Rose: Why are you both wearing black? Did you just come from a funeral?
Dorothy: No, Rose. We were singing backup for Johnny Cash.
Rose Nylund looks thrilled.
Dorothy: Of course we were at a funeral.
Blanche: Who died?
Sophia: My best friend, Edith Flannery.
Rose: I though Mildred Feinberg was your best friend.
Sophia: She was, but we’ve grown apart. I think her death had something to do about it. I really thought Edith would be around longer. She was only 88 years old, and in perfect health. Then one night, bingo, she closes her eyes and she’s gone.
Blanche: She died in her sleep.
Sophia: What are you deaf? She died playing bingo. Well, I guess Phyllis Glockman will be my new best friend.
Dorothy: Ma, I thought you hated Phyllis Glockman.
Sophia: I do, but the rate my friends are going, I won’t have to spend much time with her.
Sophia Petrillo makes her way to her bedroom.
Blanche: I think Sophia’s really been shaken up by this.
Dorothy: She’s not the only one.
Dorothy goes to the kitchen. Rose and Blanche follow her.
Rose: Dorothy, what do you mean?
Dorothy: Ma’s 82 years old. Edith was only 6 years older. You can guess what I’m thinking.
Blanche: You’re thinking your time with Sophia may be running short.
Rose: Wow, Blanche! That’s amazing! Now, guess what I’m thinking.
Rose closes her eyes trying to think of something.
Dorothy: I was talking to Edith’s daughter after the funeral. She’d flown from San Francisco. She kept telling me how bad she felt that she hadn’t seen her mother in over a year.
Rose: Well, it’s hard to stay close to someone when they live across the country.
Dorothy: Well, I live in the same house with my mother yet we spend very little quality time together. You know, sometimes we’ll be watching TV and I start wondering how many more times I have left like that, and I find myself staring at her like I’m trying to freeze her face in my memory. Like I never want to forget one single line or wrinkle, and suddenly she’ll turn to me, “Why are you staring at me? I’ve been wanting to pick my nose for the past half hour.”
Blanche: Well, Dorothy, I live by one simple rule. Share your love with people today, ‘cause they may be gone tomorrow.
Dorothy: That’s a beautiful sentiment, Blanche.
Blanche: Comes from dating a lot of traveling salesmen.
Rose: I heard a fable when I was a little girl in St. Olaf that might help. Can I tell you?
Dorothy: That’s right, Rose. Wait till my defenses are down and take advantage of me.
Rose: Okeydokey. Once upon a time in the magical land of Flafluevenhaven lived Toonder the mediocre tiger. He was called mediocre because there was nothing special about him. He wasn’t talented, he wasn’t smart, he wasn’t rich, he wasn’t handsome. He wasn’t good at anything.
Dorothy: If he also wore a bad toupee, she could be describing my Stanley.
Rose: Anyway, it made Toonder’s wife miserable that her husband was best known for being mediocre.
Blanche: I understand Marilyn Quayle feels the same way.
Rose: So, she asked her fairy godmother to grant Toonder the ability to perform incredible feats of magic, and her wish was granted. Toonder the Mediocre became Toonder the Magnificent.
Blanche: I guess he didn’t want to change the monograms on his towels.
Rose: Well, Toonder the tigher spent so much time performing that he didn’t have enough time to spend with his wife. Well, she told him that she missed the time they had together when he was just mediocre, so Toonder used his magic only once more, and that was to make his powers disappear.
Blanche: And they lived happily ever after?
Rose: No, actually she got bored and ran off with Wiseblat the Weasel. That was Toonder’s old business manager. But they lived happily ever after.
Blanche: What happened to Toonder?
Dorothy: Oh, who cares, Blanche?! Hey, once you hear “happily ever after”, it’s over.
Rose: Well, Dorothy, did you get anything out of this?
Dorothy: Actually, I did get an idea. You know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna take Ma away for the weekend to a cabin in the Florida Keys, where we can spend some quality time together.
Blanche: You got that idea from he fable?
Dorothy: No, I got it from this brochure somebody left on the table.
Dorothy browses the brochure.
Dorothy: But I’ll tell you, I never would’ve read it if her fable hadn’t bored me to tears. Thank you, Rose.
Rose: You’re welcome.
Sophia enters the kitchen.
Dorothy: Ma, I have a surprise for you.
Sophia: You got a date Saturday night.
Dorothy: Better. Ma, we’re going away for the weekend, just the two of us. So, pack your bags, we’re off to a cabin in the Keys.
Sophia: Wait a minute, Dorothy, you pulled this one on me once before. Remember Shady Pines Retirement Village? She told me we were going to a resort. We pull up to this place that looks like the Bates Motel and two goons in white coats drag me inside. For the next year and a half, I’m forced to make lanyards against my will.
Dorothy: Ma, you know that’s not how it was.
Sophia: You’re right. Sometimes they forced me to make moccasins. No thanks. Not again.
Sophia makes her way to the door. Dorothy follows her.
Dorothy: Ma, all I want us to do is go away together just the two of us. Ma, we’ll go anywhere you want to go.
Sophia: Great! I want to go to Disney World.
Dorothy: Then that’s where we’re going.
Sophia: Oh? All of a sudden you’re gonna take me after I’ve been asking for years?
Dorothy: That’s right.
Sophia walks over to Blanche and Dorothy back at the kitchen table.
Sophia: Leave your shoe sizes and let me know whether you want your moccasins in brown or black.
Days later, Sophia is on the phone.
Sophia: Oh, hello. This is Dorothy Zbornak. I’d like to confirm my reservation on Flight 505 to Orlando. Uh-huh. Uh, now, let’s go over the arrangements I made to have my mother taken away at the departure gate. You don’t know what I’m talking about? Neither do I. Goodbye.
Sophia hangs up the phone. Dorothy Zbornak enters the living room.
Dorothy: Hi, Ma. Are you ready to go?
Sophia: You bet, pussycat.
Dorothy: I’m glad you stopped being so suspicious.
Sophia: Oh, please, if you can’t trust family, who can you trust?
The taxicab horn honks.
Dorothy: There’s our cab.
Rose runs to the living room.
Rose: Oh girls, don’t forget to pick me up one of those hats with ears.
Dorothy: We won’t forget, Rose.
Rose: It’s not for me. It’s for one of the girls in my Sunshine Cadet troop.
Dorothy: Yeah, we know, Rose.
Rose: I mean I’m too old for that silly stuff, but the girls love it.
Dorothy: Right, Rose.
Sophia: You want R-o-s-e sewn on the back?
Rose: If it’s not too much trouble.
Sophia: Space Mountain, here I come.
Dorothy: Ma, I told you, no scary rides.
Sophia: Then we’d better find another way to get to the airport. The cabby is wearing a turban.
Sophia and Dorothy leave. Rose goes to the kitchen where Blanche is at.
Rose: They are going to have such a great time. What are you doing?
Blanche: Oh, just doodling.
Blanche shows Rose her sketchbook.
Blanche: What do you think?
Rose: Let me see. Oh, it’s a tiger with multicolored stripes, wearing a tuxedo, a top hat, and holding a magic wand. Oh, my gosh! It’s Toonder the magnificent tiger.
Blanche: I’ve been thinking about him ever since you told us that fable. You know how it is when you just can’t get something out of your head?
Rose: Oh yeah, water’s the worst. That’s why I always wear earplugs when I shampoo.
Blanche: I was talking about your fable. Listen, Rose, I’ve come up with an idea. Now, with your stories and my illustrations, we just might have a bestseller here. What do you say to us teaming up and writing a kids’ storybook together?
Rose: Oh, Blanche, that’s a terrific idea. Oh when my children were small, I bought those big illustrated storybooks al the time.
Blanche: And I bet your kids loved them.
Rose: No, they had their own books.
Dorothy is unpacking in their hotel at Orlando.
Dorothy: Ma, you’ve been in there for twenty minutes! Now, what are you doing?
Sophia comes out of the bathroom.
Sophia: Painting a fresco on the ceiling. It’s a bathroom. What do you think I’m doing?
Dorothy writes on her notebook.
Sophia: What are you writing?
Dorothy: Oh, nothing.
Sophia: What do you mean nothing? What is that?
Dorothy: Well Ma, you have such a great sense of humor. I can never remember all the funny things you say, so I’ve decided to keep a journal.
Sophia: Journal? Who the hell are you? Bill Moyers?
Dorothy: That is classic! “Bill Moyers”.
Sophia: Fine. I’ll give you great stuff while we’re on Space Mountain.
Sophia makes her way to the door.
Dorothy: Not so fast. Ma, I have surprise for you.
Sophia: What is it?
Dorothy: Remember all those photos we kept in Pop’s old cigar boxes? I’ve organized them into these albums. Ma, they’re for you. They’re for us.
Sophia: They’re for later. Let’s go.
Dorothy: Come on, Ma. The park can wait. Let’s do this now.
Sophia: OK, but let’s make it quick.
Dorothy: Oh, Ma, look. Here’s you holding me when I was a baby. Do you remember what was going through your mind then?
Sophia: Oh, yeah. I’ll never forget that summer day in 1932. I was thinking, “Boy, am I blessed to have such a precious baby in my life.”
Dorothy: Oh, Ma, that’s beautiful. Things are going just great. Oh, look at this. You’re holding my hand while I’m skating. What were you thinking then?
Sophia: I’ll never forget that winter day in 1934. I was thinking, “Boy, Am I blessed to have such a precious 2 year old in my life.”
Dorothy: Oh, look! Here’s one of us on a bicycle built for two.
Sophia: I’ll never forget that spring day in 1940. I was thinking…
Dorothy: Ma, you’re making this up!
Sophia: Of course, I am. How the hell should I remember what I was thinking back then? I still look for Ed Sullivan on Sunday nights. The scary part is sometimes I find him.
Dorothy: Ma, why can’t you make me happy? I want to do this.
Sophia: Okay, Okay, if a trip down memory lane is gonna make you happy, pussycat, I’m willing to take a short stroll.
Dorothy: Listen, I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll order dinner in. We’ll finish looking tat the photos, and then we can reread these old letters.
Sophia; Gee, it’s too bad you didn’t bring along the slides.
Dorothy: Ma, now you’ve got the spirit!
Dorothy pulls out a projector.
Back in Miami, Rose is at the living room writing when Blanche enters with her sketchpad.
Blanche: I just finished a sketch of Toonder’s little pals, the Dingleheimer twins.
Rose: Wow. This book is really coming along.
Blanche: Yeah, and you can chalk it all up to synergism.
Rose: Yeah, synergism. What would we ever do without it? Good old synergism.
Blanche: You have no idea what it means, do you?
Rose: Not a clue.
Blanche: Synergism is the powerful energy that is generated by two people engaged in the same activity. Up ‘til now, I had no idea it could occur outside a Howard Johnson’s motor lodge.
The two laugh.
Blanche: You still have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?
Rose: Nope. Oh, but I can’t tell you, Blanche, how much I enjoy working with you.
Blanche: Me too. You know why? ‘cuase we’re not just partners, we’re friends. We’re good friends.
Rose: I feel I could say anything to you.
Blanche: Well, of course you can, sugarplum.
Rose: Even criticize your artwork.
Blanche: Well, of course, the whole point is to get beyond our egos and come up with something we both like. What do you think?
Rose: Well, this could use a few minor changes.
Blanche: Drop dead!
Rose: Blanche, whatever happened to getting beyond your ego?
Blanche: My ego has nothing to do with it. These drawings are brilliant.
Rose: Blanche, I have lived with these characters all my life, and I’m the one to determine if your drawings are brilliant, and that one needs work.
Blanche: What’s wrong with it?
Rose: Well, you forgot Melvin the Loneliest Sea Otter’s little beanie with the propeller on top.
Blanche: No, I didn’t. It blew away.
Rose: It did not.
Blanche: It did too. Big wind came along, blew it right off his head.
Rose: That couldn’t have happened.
Blanche: I say it did and you’re gonna write it in the story.
Rose: And what if I refuse?
Blanche: You see this eraser? I’m gonna rub out Melvin’s little friend, Mookie the Sailor.
Rose: You wouldn’t.
Blanche: Try me.
Rose: No, please, Blanche. I’ll do anything you say.
Blanche: I thought you’d see it my way.
In Orlando, Dorothy and Sophia are watching slides of old photos.
Dorothy: Oh, Pop was sure a lousy photographer. Who is that?
Sophia: Uncle Vittorio.
Dorothy: His head’s cut off. How can you tell?
Sophia: Because that’s exactly how he looked in the morgue after he turned state’s evidence against Benny the Blade.
Dorothy: Oh, Ma, this is so special, spending this time together.
Sophia: Yeah, right. You know, Dorothy, I think we’re missing a whole box of slides. They must be in the suitcase in the closet.
Dorothy: Oh, I’ll take a look.
Dorothy goes to the other room, while Sophia runs for the door.
Dorothy: Ma! Where are you going?
Sophia: I can’t stand it anymore. Your life supposed to flash before your eyes when you’re dying not when you’re on vacation. I waited my whole life to ride Space Mountain and you hear me nothing is gonna stop me.
A loud thunderclap is heard. Dorothy looks out the window. Sophia looks up.
Sophia: Why are you always taking her side?
A roll of thunder continues as Dorothy and Sophia play cards.
Sophia: Who would have thought it would rain for 24 hours straight. Red sixes.
Dorothy stares at her mother. Sophia notices her staring, and says nothing. Dorothy continues to stare.
Sophia: Does this look like a game of solitaire? It’s your turn.
Dorothy: I’m sorry, Ma. I was trying to remember when was the last time I said I love you.
Sophia: After lunch when I said you had grilled cheese stuck to your chin. Now will you make your move, for God’s sake?
Dorothy: Oh, Ma. You’re really making this difficult for me. You know I’m not great when it comes to dealing with emotions. Whenever someone starts talking about their deepest feelings, I, I usually get uncomfortable and tune out. I don’t know why. Where do you think it comes from, Ma?
Sophia stares blankly.
Sophia: Huh? Oh, sorry, Dorothy. My corn pad slipped. You were saying?
Dorothy: Never mind.
Sophia: You think the rain is ever gonna let up?
Dorothy: You know something? I honestly don’t care. Who needs outside distractions? What we have here is more important.
Sophia: What we have here is getting on my nerves.
Dorothy: Ma, where are you going?
Sophia: Some place where there are no pictures, slides, and no walks down memory lane.
Dorothy: I’ll come with you.
Sophia: What are we nuns? We don’t have to travel in pairs. I’m outta here.
Sophia is at the hotel bar. He sits by the piano.
Sophia: Hey, Sam. What’s that you’re playing?
Sam: Oh, just a little something.
Sophia: Stop it. You know what I want to hear.
Sam: No, I don’t.
Sophia: You played it for her. You can play it for me.
Sam: But I don’t think that I should.
Sophia: If she can stand it, so can I. Now play.
Sam: Ok, you’re the boss.
Sam starts to play a different tune, and sings.
Sam: It’s a world of laughter. It’s a world of tears. It’s a world of hopes, and a world of fears. There’s so much that we share. That it’s time we’re aware. It’s a small world after all.
Sophia: Of all the saloons and gin joints in the world, she had to walk into mine.
Dorothy: Ma, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. We really need to talk.
Dorothy and Sophia sit at a table.
Dorothy: Ma, why are you trying so hard to ruin my weekend?
Sophia: You don’t get it do you? This weekend could’ve been a lot of fun until you decided we were gonna have quality time.
Dorothy: Is that so horrible? Ma, all I wanted to do was have us finish unfinished business, and say things to each other that we never said before.
Sophia: Dorothy, this isn’t On Golden Pone.
Dorothy: I know, Ma.
Sophia: And you’re not Jane Fonda.
Dorothy: All right. You made your point.
Sophia: Quality time has to come naturally. It happens when you’re not thinking about it. Like when we’re cutting vegetables together. That’s quality time.
Dorothy: I was hoping for something more magical than that.
Sophia: Let me tell you a little story. When I was a kid in Sicily, I loved lightning bugs. I’d stand out in the field and watch them light up the night sky. That was magical. That was spectacular. I tell you, I saw a thousand points of light. It was a kinder, gentler, America. I turned to my wife, Barbara, and I said…
Dorothy: Ma, what the hell are you talking about?!
Sophia: Oh. Sorry, I must have lapsed into George Bush’s inauguration speech. Where was I?
Dorothy: Lightning bugs.
Sophia: Right. I liked them so much, I’d catch them in glass jars so I could watch them light up whenever I wanted, but they always died.
Dorothy: I see what you mean. They needed their freedom.
Sophia: No, they needed their air. I always forgot to punch holes in the lid. The point is it’s the same with all magical moments. You can’t capture them forever, no matter what Kodak tells you.
Dorothy: So what you’re saying, Ma, is that, like a lightning bug, I put you in a glass jar and, waiting for you to light up, I nearly suffocated you.
Sophia: Jeez, Dorothy, you sure know how to beat a metaphor to death.
Dorothy: Ma, I love you.
Sophia: I love you too, pussycat. Just promise me you’ll never make me do this for the rest of my life.
Dorothy: Okay. Only if you promise you’ll live forever.
Sophia: Okay, I promise.
Dorothy: How can you make a promise like that?
Sophia: Hey, if I don’t come through, what are you gonna do to me?
Blanche is busy sketching in the kitchen when Rose comes in.
Blanche: Rose, listen. I think maybe I owe you an apology. When we were having our argument, I may have said things I didn’t mean.
Rose: Like when you said I was a dummy/
Blanche: No. Anyway, the important thing is for us to stay partners and finish our book.
Rose: Oh, forget it. There isn’t gonna be any book.
Blanche: Now what are you saying?
Rose: Did I just lapse into Swedish?
Rose shows Blanche a thick book.
Rose: Read is and weep.
Blanche: Tales of Toonder the Tiger and His Friends by Hans Christain Lockerhueven. Well, who’s Hans Christian Lockerheuven?
Rose: Only St. Olaf’s greatest author. He wrote the classic fairy tale, “Hansel and Hansel”.
Blanche: You told me your parents made up these stories.
Rose: Well, I thought they did, but when I called my sister for more stories, she suggested I pick up the book that Mom and Dad got them from.
Blanche: Well, this is great. We’ve been writing stories that have already been written.
Rose: Well, if it’s any consolation, they do it all the time on Mr. Belvedere.
Blanche: Well, my dream is crushed. I always wanted to be rich and famous, and now it’s not gonna happen.
Rose: I know a poem that might help. It goes, “Never, ever give up your dreams, even when they’re doused in sorrow, because even though they seem far away, they could come true tomorrow.” I wrote that, Blanche.
Blanche: You know. It isn’t half bad. Well, it’s better than a lot of them you read on greeting cards.
Rose: I have hundreds of them.
Blanche: You know what I’m thinking, Rose?
Rose: That with your drawings and my poems, we might go into the greeting card business together?
Blanche: No, I’m thinking about a place out the beach where the waves break so hard, they knock the bathing suits right off the men coming out of the water. Come on. Maybe we can salvage the rest of this day after all. Come one, let’s go.
Sophia takes the toiletries out of the bathroom, and runs to pack them in her bag. She runs back to the bathroom to get more then runs to the nightstand, and takes out the bible. Seeing the bible she hesistates, and puts it back in the nightstand. Sophia sees the clam shaped phone case, and tries to pull it out of the table, but it’s screwed in. Dorothy arrives.
Dorothy: Hi, Ma, how’s the packing going?
Sophia: It’d go a lot better if I had a screwdriver.
Dorothy: I just bought some postcards to remember the trip.
Sophia: I don’t need postcards, pussycat. I’ll remember this trip for a long time.
Sophia looks out the window.
Sophia: Oh, just for luck. The rain lets up when we’re leaving.
Dorothy: Hey, Ma, we still have a little time and there’s one more thing I want to show you to make this terrific weekend complete.
Sophia: Oh no, Dorothy. We looked at pictures and slides and letters and diaries and locks of hair. What’s left? Our family history in shadow puppets?
Dorothy: Ma, better!
Sophia and Dorothy go to Space Mountain.
Sophia: Now, this is what I call quality time.
Sophia and Dorothy scream!
This is not the actual script. This is my own transcription of ”Two Rode Together”. This Golden Girls episode was written by Robert Bruce & Martin Weiss. Golden Girls is owned by Witt Thomas Harris Productions, Touchstone Pictures and Television, and NBC.
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