That salesclerk was so rude.
Oh, I know.
You ask to try on 20 pairs of shoes,
and right away, they get an attitude.
Hi, Fran.
Oh, Maggie.
What are you doing home so early? Are you sick?
Oh, I better not catch anything.
I got unemployment tomorrow.
Oh, honey, I feel terrible.
Here I was out shopping, and you were home sick
with no one to take care of you.
I beg your pardon.
I'm perfectly capable of taking care of Miss Margaret.
Actually, I'm not really sick.
It's only, you know...
My monthly friend.
She's all yours.
I don't get it. What's going on here?
Val, what comes at the end of a sentence?
A parole?
You might have noticed that "Val" is not short for "valedictorian."
Now, come on. What gives?
You've had your period four times this month.
So?
So women don't get their period every week.
If they did, all the men in the world
would be institutionalized.
Which wouldn't necessarily affect my social life.
Now, what gives?
You're not having problems with your boyfriend,
you're not failing any classes...
Ah, you're trying to get out of gym.
Oh, I have gymnastics this semester.
Oh, the worst!
Oh, the horse, the bars, the rope.
Oh, I hated the rope.
To this day, I can't even look at an extension cord.
Thank God, you know how I feel. Mm-hm.
So you'll let me stay home?
No. Honey, every once in a while,
you got to pull up those gym shorts,
lace up those high-tops, and face your fears.
Or you could do what Fran did.
Write phony notes.
Val, turn your head sideways a sec.
Did you know you can see clear through your ears?
This is a completely different situation.
She doesn't have our gym teacher.
You know, after World War II,
a lot of Nazis fled down to South America.
She came to P.S. 19.
No, Maggie.
I am not writing you a phony excuse.
Oh, come on, Fran. My gym teacher hates me.
She goes out of her way to make me look stupid.
There's a tough job.
Shut up, Brighton.
Come on, Fran, please.
Just till gymnastics is over.
You've got to get me through till volleyball.
No. I'm a nanny now. I took an oath.
Fran, she won't even let me wear makeup in class.
Oh, she's got to be stopped.
Well, all right.
But only because I know what it's like
to be a pathetic klutz.
Oh, I knew you'd understand.
All right. Let's use one of my favorite excuses,
and I hope one of yours, a hammertoe.
A hammertoe?
Uh-huh. What's that?
It's a cruel, crippling disease
caused by shoving your feet into high heels
that are too small.
And if you don't think that sounds painful,
just ask my Uncle Harvey.
No, it won't work. It has to be
something undetectable. Something she can't see.
Then it should have something to do
with your chest.
Shut up, you little troll.
How about severe depression
brought on by feelings of inadequacy and the fear of death?
Gracie, where do you come up with these things?
Usually during hopscotch.
Miss Fine, I'd like next Friday off.
Could you write Mr. Sheffield a note for me?
I think I'd like an attractive disease.
Perhaps something that requires an eye patch.
Uh, Niles, would this happen to be
your not-so-subtle way of saying you disapprove of me?
Not at all.
I delight in each and every antic.
Just think of me as one of those people
who slows down on the highway
to view the wreck,
and then goes on his merry way.
You know, Mags, now, I could be wrong here,
but I think Dad would be pretty upset
if he found out about this whole note thing.
How's he gonna find out?
I'm gonna tell him...
unless you and I can cut a deal.
Listen, you maggot, you breathe one word of this to Dad,
and I'll pull your tongue out through your zipper.
I do believe we have a deal.
Niles, please. I'm trying to work.
As opposed to what I'm doing,
which is a hobby?
You wanted to see me, Mr. Sheffield?
Oh, yes, Miss Fine.
I got the strangest call today from Maggie's school.
Oh, look. Traffic's backing up.
I wonder what's ahead.
Do you know anything about her having a heart murmur?
Heart murmur... Heart murmur...
Murmur of the heart...
No. No. I, uh... Doesn't ring a bell.
It seems she's been feigning illness
to get out of gym class.
Oh, it's a massive pileup.
You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Miss Fine?
They're going to need the Jaws of Life for this one.
Oh, Miss Babcock.
Miss Babcock, it's so nice to see you.
You know, we've got to spend more time with each other.
Ah, that little rubber band in your head
finally snapped.
Maxwell, I have wonderful news.
I think I have solved our casting problem.
What about Alan Beck to play the lead?
Oh, Alan Beck?
I love him.
No, I don't think so.
Why would I lie?
Maxwell, Alan Beck is a living legend.
He's won two Academy Awards. He just won a Tony.
And next, he's going to Disneyland.
Miss Fine, please?
Alan Beck is a demon.
When I first started in the theater,
I worked as his gofer.
He treated me like dirt.
Oh, he can't be that bad.
One time, I forgot to put lemon in his tea.
He set me on fire.
Well, there are two sides to every story.
What's the other side to that?
I was a 20-year-old boy set ablaze by a madman.
Well, you're not a 20-year-old boy anymore.
You're a bigmacher
Yes, but I'm still flammable.
I think I'm at that point in my career
where I can choose who I work with.
Alan Beck's name on a marquee
can presell a six-month run.
I choose him.
Oh, Mr. Sheffield,
this is a very big decision you've made.
You know, it's just like I was telling Maggie.
You've got to confront your fears.
Maggie. That's right.
Now, what's this about her cutting gym class?
Just when the roadway had finally cleared...
Some idiot swerved into oncoming traffic.
Uh, Mr. Sheffield, don't worry about Maggie.
I'll take care of her.
You just get yourself flame retarded.
And you, keep it moving. Keep it moving.
There's nothing to see here.
Oh, wow.
Does this bring back memories.
Bad memories.
Oh, the rings.
Good old rings.
I have no use for rings unless someone's putting one on my finger.
This was my event.
What'd you do on that?
Uh, never mind.
Fran, I'm dead. What are we gonna say?
Well, we'll just tell her the truth.
That your pacemaker's working perfectly.
Oh, God. It's not gonna work.
Coach Stone is gonna torture me
this whole semester.
Oh, honey, you're making a big deal
over what lasts a grand total of four minutes.
What are you talking about?
Gym class lasts 45 minutes.
Listen and learn.
First, you gotta get dressed.
Take your time. You're not a fireman.
Now you volunteer to get the equipment,
which is very heavy, so you pull something.
It could be a sideache, a charley horse, a hernia,
depending on how much time you need...
12 minutes. God, I was good.
What are we down to? Uh, 20 minutes.
All right, just enough time
to look for your contact.
Fran, you don't wear contacts.
Exactly. Do you know how long it takes
to find a contact that doesn't exist?
16 minutes, which brings us down
to a grand total of four minutes.
Anyone could get through four minutes of gym,
even if you had my old teacher,
Miss Wickervitch.
We called her "the Wickervitch of the West."
Oh...
Hello, Fine.
Miss Wickervitch.
Long time no see.
Your old gym teacher's my gym teacher?
Small world.
Ow! Nobody move. I think I lost my contact.
Well, Fine, I see you've recovered
from the series of ailments
that plagued you as a teenager, huh?
Well, I still got
some of the old shouldermishegaas,
you know, when it's damp.
Meanwhile, you look fabulous.
Why'd you change your name?
I got married.
To a man?
So you're married and I'm not? How could this be?
I'll tell you how. You're soft.
- Ow. - You were soft then, and you're soft now.
And you're raising soft children with heart murmurs.
Is any of this gonna affect my grade?
Oh, you bet your soft, squishy little butt.
If you don't pass those midterms next week,
your grade is an F.
But that's not fair.
Oh, life is not fair.
Ask the old maid.
Don't worry, Maggie.
You're gonna pass that test,
because I'm gonna coach you.
You?
Oh, that's so rich.
You're like a French poodle.
They're all poofy and perfect.
But wet 'em down, and what do you got?
A wet poodle? A wet poodle?
I'm gonna make her suffer.
I'm gonna torture you so bad,
you are going to beg me to kill you.
You know, marriage has mellowed her.
Where the hell is Alan Beck?
First day of rehearsals,
and we're already two hours behind.
Everybody out! There's a bomb threat.
We're threatening to open with this bomb.
No explosion.
It's worse than a bomb.
It's a dud.
Who are you?
Maxwell Sheffield.
You look familiar.
Yeah, well...
We, uh, worked together some time ago in London.
I was your assistant.
Good. Get me some coffee.
Actually, I'm the producer now.
With cream.
Who are you, blondie?
I'm C.C. Babcock.
I'm Mr. Sheffield's business associate.
Yeah, I got a slew of those myself,
but I got Thursday open.
I'll be in my dressing room, Sheffield.
Oh, Mr. Sheffield... Whoa!
And who is this lovely creature?
Put Thursday on hold, blondie.
Oh, Alan Beck! I just love you!
Well, we have a lot in common.
You must be my leading lady.
Oh, no.
I'm Fran Fine, the nanny.
Some nanny.
You know, there's a little boy inside me.
Want to raise him?
Well, what's the problem?
I think he's very charming.
Well, thank you for your professional opinion, Miss Fine.
So how did your meeting with Maggie's gym teacher go?
Oh, great. I talked her into
giving Maggie a make-up test.
I'll need a credit card. Oh, yeah.
Wait. Wait a minute. Do you intend to bribe her?
No! But only because
I didn't think of it first.
So...
New exercise outfits.
My grandpa always said,
"you must look your best."
He insisted on being buried in a tuxedo.
Unfortunately, it was a rental, which could be the reason
for my family's horrible credit rating.
Sheffield!
Oh, God. What now, more coffee?
I've been rethinking act two.
It's a downer.
You got my character in a wheelchair.
What woman in the audience is gonna believe
that Alan Beck is paralyzed from the waist down?
Alan, you're playing Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
The man was a paraplegic.
Find a cure.
You call that a back handspring layout?
Shape up!
I've seen better routines in Gymboree...
you Mary Lou Rotten.
Well, look who's here, Olga and Nadia.
Have a good practice, girls.
I have to get home to dinner.
A romantic dinner...
with my husband.
You know what that's like, don't you, Fran?
Oh, that's right.
You don't.
Oh, forget her. We'll show her.
Are you ready?
I'm ready.
Are you really ready?
I'm really ready.
I can't hear you, Sheffield!
I'm really ready!
All right! Then let's go!
Oh! Oh!
Tea time.
Are we feeling any better?
Do I look like I'm feeling any better?
A woman with an electrical appliance
around her neck and her feet in water
should remember who her friends are.
Ow!
Oh!
Oy!
Listen to me. I sound like a kvetchy Cathy doll.
God, I hate dealing with actors.
They ruin the theater.
May I get you something, sir?
Scotch and soda? Gin and tonic? Martini?
Yes.
I wonder if Flo Ziegfeld had all these problems?
I think his problems started
when they named him "Flo."
Oh, good. I haven't missed happy hour.
Oh.
That Alan Beck'll be the death of me yet.
He insists on playing F.D.R. as a swashbuckling paraplegic
who leaps out of his wheelchair at will
screaming, "It's a miracle!"
Well, if you want him to stay in his chair,
I know someone that could break his legs.
Ow!
And she wears sneakers, so he'll never hear her coming.
I take it all is not well in the Olympic village?
Who would have thought that we'd both be facing demons from our past?
I can't believe I'd hire a pyromaniacal sociopath.
Yeah, well, that was pretty stupid.
Mine was just a coincidence.
Oh, come on, Miss Fine.
Why don't you just stand up to her?
You're not in high school anymore.
You're a big macher
Oh, no. Here.
Thank you.
Why don't you take some of your own advice?
I mean, if the guy's making you miserable,
why don't you just stand up to him?
Because he'll quit...
And he's brilliant.
Nah. The worst that'll happen
is he'll set you on fire again.
How many times can he do that
before it gets old?
Thank you, Miss Fine.
Ow!
Oh!
Ah!
Can't you just say hello like a normal person?
I've been looking forward to this
for quite some time.
What's with you? What, do you like to see young girls suffer?
Oh, yeah. Especially if they cry.
Okay, Sheffield.
I set up five stations for you.
Each of them is worth 20 points.
Start with the ropes.
The ropes?
No, not the ropes. Anything but the ropes.
Honey, go out there,
hold your head up high,
don't forget to breathe,
and above all, watch for your nails.
[THEME FROMROCKY
Oops!
Ooh!
Oh!
Whoa! Oh!
Ah!
She stinks.
Well, it's better to have tried and stunk
than never to have stunk at all.
Look, she has been working her butt off.
I think that she deserves something for it.
I'm gonna give her something.
An F.
I love my job.
What kind of a teacher are you, anyway?
Teachers are supposed to educate, not intimidate.
What's the matter, cat got your tongue?
You're choking?
Why didn't you tell me you were choking?
This is the international sign for choking.
Well, now I know.
All right. Okay. Focus.
Oh, Mrs. Stone, are you okay?
Oh...
Oh, you saved my life.
You saved my life?
Well, I might not have passed gym,
but lucky for you,
I passed the Heimlich poster
every Sunday at Fung Lum's Chinese restaurant.
So, how'd I do?
Oh, you did great, honey.
You got an A. Right?
Right.
Really?
Oh, because I felt like I was really on.
Forty-eight, no matinees.
My understudy's good enough
for the blue-haired ladies.
Forty-nine, I want a personal trainer.
Young, dumb, stacked.
And 50,
I want...
I want this.
Alan, uh, before you go,
I have a couple of demands of my own.
Oh, really?
Yeah.
From now on,
I'll give the orders around here,
and you will conduct yourself
in a professional manner.
Or?
Or...
Or you're fired.
You're bluffing.
Try me.
Come on, Sheffield.
You know as well as I know
that no one can play this role as well as Alan Beck.
I am F.D.R.
December 7, 1941,
a date that will live in infamy.
The only thing we have to fear
is fear itself.
- Oh, Mr. - Sheffield.
Anthony Hopkins called again, and he wants to know
whether he should bring his own wheelchair.
The guy's such a pest.
But a lovely man.
Whatever Tony wants is just fine.
Ah.
You know, Sheffield, I've been thinking.
Maybe some of my demands might be negotiable.
Some of your demands?
All right, all of them.
But I'm keeping this.
Thank you. Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Uh, Miss Babcock has your checks.
You were great. Thank you.
Very believable.
Anthony Hopkins, Miss Fine?
A nice touch.
My acting was pretty good,
huh, Mr. Sheffield?
Maybe I should play Eleanor Roosevelt.
I know all her lines.
"Ah, look at all the lonely people."
That was Eleanor Rigby.
Oh.
Don't quit your day job.
Oh, I won't.
Look at the class of '82.
Mm, mm, mm. What a bunch of losers.
Look at your hair, Fine.
Oh, that was the Farrah Fawcett look.
Wait a minute.
Is that Daniel Pirialli with his arm around you?
Yeah, he was my boyfriend.
Oh. A boy like that will kill your brother.
No. He's not that bad.
Sometimes I still wonder.
Forget that boy and find another.
- Who? - One of your own kind.
Stick to your own kind.