Now, everyone, Mr. Fuzzy would like to share.
Oh, I just love playing with dolls.
We aren't playing. Oh?
We're in group therapy.
Oh.
Thank God, because, you know,
I heard Ken and Barbie are on the skids.
Really?
I heard it directly from Chatty Cathy.
It seems Ken found out
that Barbie had a fling with G.I. Joe
right before Desert Storm.
Poor Ken.
Poor Barbie.
One little indiscretion in 30 years
and it cost her the Dream House.
Barbie never said a word.
She must be in denial.
Sure. Look at her feet.
That's all from frustration.
Never trust a woman
who can't wear flats.
All right, all right, I confess.
Just make her stop playing. It's torture.
You don't know what torture is.
My sister played the zither.
Once, my ears actually bled.
My teacher says I have nimble fingers.
You know, sign language is an excellent hobby.
Come on, Imogene, king me.
Who's she talking to? No one.
Okay, I'll do it myself.
Submitted for your approval,
a girl who has a friend who isn't there,
an imaginary friend,
here inThe Gracie Zone.
Give her a break. She's only 6.
When she invites an imaginary guy
to the prom, we'll start worrying.
I win.
You want to play hide-and-go-seek?
Okay, you hide.
Where'd she go?
Sheis
Gracie. Whoo-hoo. Honey.
Maybe we should all play a game together now.
You know, like Go Fish, or my favorite, Old Maid.
Yes, exactly. Shut up, Brighton.
Oops! Bit too much polish.
Excuse me. Is this Dr. Bort's office?
Oh, yeah. Of course.
I'm sorry. I'm just a little new at this whole...
therapy thing.
May I help you?
What's that supposed to mean?
I'm okay, you're okay.
Are they okay?
You must be a new patient.
Me, a patient?
What are you, nuts?
Not that there's anything wrong with it.
I'm just here to pick up Grace Sheffield.
You must be the new nanny.
Yes. Fran Fine.
I'm sort of a role model for her.
I'm sure she's mentioned me.
Anything Grace may have said about you
is strictly confidential.
Well, what do you mean?
Oh, if she blabbed about
that little Chutes and Ladders incident,
I did not cheat.
She just can't count.
Please sit down. You're disturbing the other patients.
Like they're not disturbed already.
Alligator handbag, 2,000 bucks. Ha!
We should all have her problems.
Hiya, Gracie. How was your session?
It was great. I'm starting to make real progress.
Good for you. Come on, Imogene. Lunch time.
Stage Deli? I was gonna say the same thing.
That's after a $150 session.
Well, what can one say about these costumes?
They're, uh... They're awfully well-drawn.
You stayed almost completely inside the lines.
They're grotesque. You couldn't design a dickey,
you talentless hack.
He hung up on me.
You catch a lot more flies with honey
than you do with vinegar...
although what anybody would want
with a whole bunch of flies...
Unless, of course,
you had a lizard to feed
or a salamander or something.
Miss Fine,
may I ask why you're in my office
babbling about reptiles?
Well, actually, I wanted to talk to you
about one of the kids.
Oh, if this is about canceling Maggie's piano lessons...
God, yes.
So she's not Liberace. Is that such a crime?
Yes. In some countries, they'd cut off her hands.
What?
Question... when they shot Bambi's mother,
did you find that a sad moment...
At all?
I'm sure she's mounted on a nice wall
in a fine home somewhere.
Uh-huh, well...
Now I'll talk to you.
Yeah. Um...
I took Gracie out to lunch,
and that figment of her imagination
tagged along. Ah, Imogene.
Now, not that I mind eating two BLTs,
but she stuck me for the check.
Yes, she has been cropping up quite a bit lately.
Oh, you should have seen poor Gracie in the park,
sitting on the teeter-totter
with her little tush in the dirt,
not budging an inch,
just waiting and waiting.
I'll tell you, it broke my heart.
Well, perhaps we should increase her therapy.
Well, I was thinking
of doing just the opposite.
I mean, she's 6 years old.
Does she really have to lie on some couch
getting her head shrunk twice a week?
Miss Fine,
they don't actually shrink the child's head.
What am I, an ignoramus?
Who recommended this quack, anyway?
She happens to be one of the finest therapists in New York.
You can't even get in to see her
unless one of her patients commits suicide.
That's just like my pedicurist, Selma.
Boy, that woman knows her way around a hammertoe
like nobody's business.
Miss Fine, while I appreciate your concern,
Grace is a very complex child,
and therapy is an important outlet for her.
Well look, if she needs an outlet, I'll take her to Jersey.
They got a Ralph Lauren outlet, Donna Karan outlet...
I'm not saying the kid's got to go cold turkey.
I'm just saying I think she needs a little less Freud
and a little more fun.
Therapy happens to be very beneficial.
I've been going for 20 years.
Nah. It's too easy.
How come they call them Tollhouse cookies?
Because you eat now, and you pay later.
Don't eat raw dough. It'll make you sick.
Oh, that's not true. Grownups just say that.
Why? More dough for them.
Grownups lie sometimes.
You know, you don't really have to wait an hour
before you go into the pool.
Oh, unless you've eaten my mother's cooking.
Then you got to wait a week.
Don't. Imogene's sitting there.
Oh. Whoops. I'm sorry.
I'll sit here.
No! Now she's sitting there.
Oh, she's a zippy little thing, isn't she?
Excuse me?
Oh, sure. What?
She wants to sit on the counter.
What are you doing? She's only this big.
She's only this big,
and she's causing me this much trouble?
Here. Get in the teacup.
She's bored.
She's bored? Oh, here.
She just went to Disneyland.
Hi, Daddy. Hello, sweetheart.
Don't eat raw dough. It'll make you sick.
Yeah, right.
The eggs are pasteurized.
Here. Live it up. Take a fingerful.
Mm. Very tasty.
You know it.
So, what did you ladies do today?
We shopped till we dropped.
She tried on every pair of shoes and didn't buy a thing.
I made a salesman cry.
I'll tell you, she's got a real gift.
I have to say, Miss Fine, cutting down on her therapy
seems to have done some good.
Well, you know what they say...
who needs Freud when you've got Ferragamo?
Maybe I should put out a shingle.
Stop! What is it?
What's the matter?
You killed Imogene!
How? What'd I do?
You ate her.
You ate her?
I did not eat her.
She was sitting on that cookie, and you ate her!
Oh, God. Ptooey! Ptooey!
Grace, look, she spat her out.
There she is. Imogene's fine.
Yeah, she's not dead. She's just a little stunned.
You okay, honey?
Help her!
Do something.
Well, what should I do, CPR?
CPR? CPR! Right!
Over here!
Well, I've only done it on a dummy.
I hope I know... What am I saying?
Save her! She's turning blue!
All right, all right. The first thing we have to do is clear the air passageway.
There. Her throat's clear.
That wasn't her throat! Ew!
All right, you'll wash your hands later.
Keep going!
Now I have to breathe in her mouth.
This is her mouth?
I'll pump her little heart.
Don't break... Don't break her ribs!
She stopped breathing!
Oy. Okay.
Clear!
Boom!
Take her pulse.
Oh. Oh, yes. Right.
Um, I'm getting a pulse.
Oh, look. She's coming around.
Well, she's a bit disheveled, but she's a plucky one.
She pulled through!
We've done it! Yay!
It's too late. She's gone.
This is terrible.
I'll say. My malpractice insurance is gonna skyrocket.
I don't believe this.
Well, it was an accident.
I'm telling you, I didn't eat anyone.
Oh... a hair.
If I told her once,
I told her a thousand times...
Don't sit on food.
Oh, angel, I'm so sorry.
I didn't mean to eat her.
The house is so empty without her.
What am I going to do with all of her stuff?
Maybe we could call the Salvation Army.
Well, I'm sure they'll have room in the truck.
I keep expecting her to walk through that door.
Well, you know, sweetheart,
since she was an imaginary friend,
couldn't you just imagine she was alive again?
If only it were that simple.
Well, she's not God, you know.
If you don't mind, I'd like to be alone.
Of course, angel.
Well, we understand.
You just call us if you need anything, okay?
Oy.
Do we have our hands full, mister?
I just don't know what to do for her.
This whole imaginary friend thing's
gotten completely out of hand.
Well, you called the shrink. What did she say?
No, I couldn't reach her. She was seeing her therapist.
The therapist is in therapy?
No comment.
Poor little Gracie. She's taking this all so hard.
God, there must be something we could do.
I remember when Goldie died...
may she rest in peace.
Your grandmother?
No, my goldfish.
Goldie the goldfish. Clever.
You should write.
I loved her so,
and then there she was one day,
belly up in her bowl,
her little body just covered with ick.
We gave her a 21-flush salute.
What a lovely tribute.
No. She just wouldn't go down.
Miss Fine, I understand you were fond of your fish,
but are we floating anywhere near a point here?
The point is, and by the way,
thank you so much for your sympathy...
is that when death
comes tapping at your tank,
you need to have some kind of closure...
Like a funeral.
So let me get this straight.
We're going to have a mock funeral
for an imaginary friend.
Yeah. And Grace is the one in therapy?
Now, when you give the eulogy,
make sure you mention
how much Imogene loved peanut butter.
Why do I have to do the eulogy? Why not you?
Well, wouldn't that be in poor taste?
I ate her.
Good point, Nanny Lecter.
Hey, behave,
or I'll take a bite out of you.
Grace, dear. How are you holding up?
It's still a shock.
I always thought I'd go first.
Oh, I see you went with the open casket,
but wouldn't Imogene rest more comfortably
without my expensive new boots in there?
No. She always wanted to be buried with her boots on.
But they're my boots.
Lord and Taylor giveth,
and Lord and Taylor taketh away.
She couldn't have gone with a nice casket from Kinney's?
Grace, I know you miss Imogene,
but remember, part of her will always be with you.
And the rest of her's in Fran's stomach.
Unless she's already been... passed on.
Okay, your father has a few words to say
about the dearly departed.
Um, oh, yes.
Well, what can one say about Imogene?
Um, faithful friend, constant companion,
peanut butter lover.
Um, Niles?
Oh, I'm too overcome, sir.
I have a few words prepared.
No. No. No.
Well, perhaps we can take some solace
from the immortal words,
"therefore, ask not for whom the bell tolls..."
Thank God it tolls for me.
That's Dr. Bort. I'll take it in the office.
Maggie, play something.
Really? Any requests?
Gee, how about "Heart and Soul"?
Okay.
As if there isn't enough pain in this house.
Ah, yes, doctor. It's Grace.
No, well, she's okay,
but I'm afraid Imogene has been better.
She's dead.
Eaten, actually...
By the nanny.
I spit her out. She died on the table.
All right. All right. Thank you, Dr. Bort.
She wants to see us immediately.
Us? Oy. Shrinks.
They always blame it on the nanny.
Hi, Gracie.
Dr. Bort is waiting for you.
We're late. Can't you ever be on time for anything?
You think this look happens by accident?
You think these clothes just fall on me?
The only shoes that work with this outfit
are six feet under.
Hi.
That's how we used to talk to each other.
Remember, sweetheart?
Yes, dear.
But then Dr. Bort gave us the tools
to rebuild our marriage.
And now it's perfect.
We're not married.
Get out now!
You know what the doctor's gonna do,
don't you?
She's gonna try and pin this whole thing on me.
And she'd be wrong exactly how?
Well, I'm not the one
that cut back on Gracie's therapy.
You're the one who suggested it.
Since when do you listen to me?
Oh, he walked right into that one.
Besides, I never would have suggested it
if I knew then what I know now.
What do you know? Oh, you know.
Niles told me all about your family tree.
It's just crawling withmeshugenahs.
Translation?
Nuts, kooks, wackos.
My family's dementia is a vicious rumor.
Mm-hmm. Just because my great-aunt Hermione
lived in the gazebo with a giant hoot owl.
There's the queen of normal.
Not to mention your Uncle Duncan
with the magic kilt.
Itwas
Gracie, darling,
how are you feeling?
I'm drained.
I don't bounce back like I used to.
Have a seat, Gracie.
Hello, Mr. Sheffield,
and you must be the nanny.
Is that what she told you?
You are the nanny.
Oh, right.
Get out?
Is that what you want, out?
Yes, I want out.
Forget it. You're in... forever.
Okay.
I'm sure it's been a difficult time
for everyone.
Would you like a cookie?
I think not.
Look, before you start blaming me for everything,
I just want you to know that I've always
had Gracie's best interest at heart,
and I think I've done a pretty good job with her
except for this one measly
little dead friend thing.
You know what I think?
That's it?
Two seconds of conversation,
and you're ready to pass judgment?
I think you've done a good job with Grace.
Oh, she is very insightful.
She's really starting to open up,
not to mention a marked improvement in her wardrobe.
Oh, thank you.
We'll talk.
Maxine, would you please send Grace in?
You know, Grace first started seeing me
after her mother died.
Which is about the time Imogene first appeared.
Helped fill the void in Grace's life.
I think I see what you're getting at, doctor.
Well, will somebody buy me a vowel?
Hello, sweetheart.
Hi, angel. Come sit between us.
You know, Grace,
Fran's feeling really bad about what happened to Imogene.
Well, sure. She killed her.
Well, she didn't really kill her, did she?
Yeah. I was there. She ate her.
I tried to save her.
Now, Grace, I want you to think.
Was it really Fran's fault?
You mean because Imogene was just my pretend friend?
That's right.
Maybe you just didn't want to play with her anymore.
Yeah, she was kind of getting on my nerves.
But what's the real reason you don't need Imogene anymore?
Because now I have Fran.
Oh... I'm speechless.
This is a miracle.
No. It's really a common psychological occurrence.
No. The miracle is her being speechless.
I feel much better now.
Me too.
Maybe this whole therapy thing isn't such a crock.
Well, thank you, Miss Fine.
Here, Fran, you want a cookie?
Oh, I don't think so.
It's all right, Fran.
Go ahead.
Oh, you sure you don't see anybody sitting on this?
No... Do you?
Oof.
Miss Fine, it's 3:00 in the morning.
Thank you, Big Ben.
Lose something?
No. I've always wanted to visit China.
Give it up, Miss Fine.
You'd be singing a different tune
if your wingtips were pushing up daisies.
Let the poor soles rest in peace.
I can't.
I'm still making payments on them.
Oh, here.
Oh, Niles. You doll, you.
I just figured if we dig a deep enough hole,
we can bury the piano.