FRANTIC FERRET, episode 1 (Patreon)

Written by Eric Costello & JW Kennedy with contributions from Walter Reimer and Roy Pounds.  M.M. Marmel, archivist.

[Frantic Ferret is returning home from work, on board a New Haven RR commuter train.  He wears a grey suit and fedora, with a briefcase in one hand and a copy of the World-Telegram & Sun tucked under his arm.]

[Frantic Ferret gets a martini from the attendant on the bar car.]

[Frantic Ferret opens his briefcase, takes out two Miltown tablets and a pack of Luckies.]

[Frantic Ferret downs the tablets with his martini, and lights up a Lucky.]

[Frantic Ferret starts a game of hearts with Dinkley, who works for a rival firm.]

[Frantic Ferret gulps down a Bromo tablet; there's a pause, his belly balloons and smoke comes out of his ears as he deflates]

(Frantic)  Ah, that's better.  [laugh track titters]

(Dinkley)  Your turn, Ferret.

[cut to establishing shot of the Ferrets' house.  In the kitchen, Frantic's wife, Gertrude, is struggling to make a Yankee pot roast; impossible for her, as she hails from Alabama.]

(Gertrude)  Buster!  Jes' you wait til yore pappy gits home!

(Buster is a precocious lad wearing a propeller beanie and thick spectacles)  Indeed, mater? I do not think he will be in a state of mind to chastise me.  By the time he arrives at the portal of our abode, I think his pharmaceutical will have taken effect.  Justice delayed shall be justice denied.

(Gertrude)  Ah think yore forgettin' that you done used up all the contents o' yore ol' pa's liquor cabinet on them dadgum chemistry experiments o' yours.  Ah don't care if you do get straight A's on yore report card!  You's in a heap o' trouble bwah!

(Buster)  Incidentally, the pot roast is burning. I thought I would bring that to your attention.

(Gertrude)  DAGNABBIT! (laugh track guffaws as she opens the oven and fans smoke with her apron)

(Buster)  Ah, mater! You are rendering a burnt offering unto God?

(Gertrude)  Ah knew ah shoulda stuck with ham hocks an' cornpone!

(Buster)  I do not think the elements of your native cuisine find favour with Father. Perhaps I should get on my bike and fetch something from Lee Ho Fook's down the street?

(Gertrude shrugs in resignation)  If you see yore sister, tell her dinner's just about ready.

[Loud crashing of rock and roll music from upstairs]

(Buster)  I believe, Mater, she is too busy with Murray the K to think about meal-time.

(Gertrude)  Aw shucks, yore papa's gonna be home soon! You git on to Lee Ho's an I gotta get dressed! AWWW, I look a fright!

(Buster)  Certainly, mater, I shall do so.

[Buster hops on his bicycle and pedals furiously down the street.  He stops outside a building with a sign:  STOCK BROKER, and dashes inside.]

(Broker)  Well, Mr. Ferret, your latest trades have netted...$435.

(Buster) Three cheers for the military-industrial complex! [laugh track]

(Broker)  Here's a hot tip:  Put it all in Consolidated Copper!

(Buster) Hmm. I shall think about that, I shall. But right now, duck a l'orange is first on my to-do list.  After a quick stop at the bookseller's, that is.  Cheerio! 

(Broker turns and addresses the camera)  Sometimes I wonder about that kid.

[laugh track, uproariously]

[Buster gets back on his bike and rides away.  Whip-cut back to the Ferrets' kitchen]

(Gertrude yells at the ceiling)  JULIE! Yew turn off that racket, y'hear! An git read for supper!

[Top 40 music is heard, playing at levels that cause the dishes on the walls to rattle.]

[Camera crane-up through the ceiling to show Julie, dressed in a poodle skirt and an extremely tight sweater, dancing frantically to the music]

(Julie) Murray the K! He's the peachiest! Like far out, man!

[camera crane back down to kitchen]

(Gertrude groans and covers her ears) SAKES whut ah wouldn't give to commute to a nice quiet office...  Frantic must be havin' such a fine time.

[transition to the train.]

[Frantic Ferret is sitting across from Dinkley, where the two have been playing hearts.  Frantic looks glum, and Dinkley is chuckling as he gathers up the cards.]

(Frantic)  $2.75!  I'm done.  I never should have let you talk me into a game.

(Dinkley) Let's see...that makes...$435 total you've lost to me this year.  Heh, heh, heh. You're putting me in a higher tax bracket, old boy!

(Frantic) That's the money I was going to use to buy Gertrude a birthday present!!

(Dinkley) Oooooooooooh. Gee, that's gonna be tough.

(Frantic is becoming frantic) I'm washed up! A failure! I can't face my family! Dinkley, you're my only friend.

(Dinkley smirks as Frantic forks over the $2.75)  If you say so, old chum.  Seems to me you're being much too existential.  Most fellows have to be at least three or four levels...higher...in an organization to have as much anxiety and dread as you do.  But then, the 5.15 out of Grand Central has the largest concentration of ulcers to be found anywhere in Connecticut.

(Frantic) These nerves are hereditary.  My great-great-grandfather George Washington Ferret once worried across the Delaware river.

(Dinkley) No doubt because there wasn't a bar car.

[pause for laugh track]

(Dinkley) You know what you need, Frantic?  It'll make a new mel out of you.

(Frantic) Is that even POSSIBLE, Dinkley?

(Dinkley) Oh, believe me, it is.  What you need to do is have a messy, scandalous fling.

(Frantic) A fling?  You mean, like the opening pitch at Yankee Stadium?  They don't let guys like me throw the opening pitch, Dinkley.

(Dinkley) No. More like the opening pitch at the Polo Grounds.  Messy, full of errors, and most will point and laugh.  BUT.  You'll have the time of your life.

(Frantic) I'm already having the time of my life, and I don't like it.  My time of life is 35, married with two kids and a mortgage, and a lousy job that doesn't pay my bills.

(Dinkley) None of what you've said will matter with an evening of fun.  Beats semi-burned Yankee Pot Roast.  [laugh track]

(Frantic gives Dinkley a strange look)  What's that supposed to mean?  I like pot roast.

(Dinkley)  Never mind.  Surely even the cheapskates at your company have stenographers?

(Frantic)  Wait a minute, wait a minute.  Let me get this straight, Dinkley.  You're suggesting I should make love to my Dictaphone?  (he gets a thoughful look in his eye)  Not a bad idea, at that ...

(Dinkley pauses in mid-sip of his martini)  Frantic, you have a very strange mind.  I advise caution!  A wire Dictaphone... Could be Dangerous.

(Frantic) I could have it take a memo of sweet nothings, and Gertrude would become insanely jealous!

(Dinkley looks baffled) You haven't read the Kinsey Report, have you?

(Frantic rubs his paws gleefully and ignores Dinkley)  Oh my! The sparks will surely fly! it'll be just like when we first met! I was selling marshmallow creme in Mobile at the time...

(Dinkley) I didn't know there was a market down there for marshmallow creme. [subtly makes a note]

(Frantic) ... and I had my eye on her sister, Lucille. They worked at a confectioner's shop, and ...

(Dinkley) You were in love with two sisters, at once?

(Frantic)  No, just one of them at first.  But see, I had a whole truckload of marshmallow creme which nobody wanted ...

(Dinkley) So you invited them into the truck...?

(Frantic gives Dinkley an astonished look)  How could you possibly know that?

(Dinkley smirks into his martini)  I say, Frantic old boy, isn't this your stop?

(Frantic)  Long story short, marshmallow creme happens to be Gertrude's favorite - OH GEEZE this is my stop!

(Conductor) Greens Farms, mind the closing doors!

(Frantic turns, adjusts his hat, and says grimly before exiting the train) Next time, Dinkley, next time. [laugh track goes wild]

(Dinkley) Of course, old boy, of course. [he picks up the World-Telegram & Sun which Frantic left behind.  The headline reads:  MARSHMALLOW CREME SHORTAGE GRIPS SOUTHEAST)

(Dinkley) Tsk. The Manacosset Syrup & Fondant Company really needs to get executives with imagination... [laugh track]

[fade to commercial]

(fade up on Frantic trudging home, his briefcase almost dragging the ground) I don't have a birthday present for Gertrude! What am I going to do??

[Sound of ringing bicycle bell.  Frantic does not respond; keeps trudging miserably.]

[Loud sound of ringing bicycle bell.  Frantic turns and dodges as Buster screeches to a halt beside him.]

(Frantic)  What in blazes?

(Buster) No, in Greens Farms, Father. [laugh track] To anticipate your inquiry, I am engaged in fetching tonight's repast, owing to the unfortunate immolation of the planned dinner.

(Frantic gives a baffled look)  What is that in layman's terms?

(Buster) I rephrase: Ma burned the pot roast.  [Laugh track]  Hence my heigara to Lee Ho Fook's, to fetch duck a l'orange and, not incidentally, my dividend checks from the broker's office.

(A thought bubble over Frantic's head replays Dinkley's line about semi-burnt pot roasts, as Frantic gets a faraway, paranoid look in his eyes.)  How ... did ... he ... KNOW??

(Buster)  Beg pardon?

(Frantic shakes his head to dispel the vision) Dividend checks? Buster, my boy, what kind of mischief have you gotten into this time?

(Buster) A little flutter in Federated Jimmies and Sprinkles. You know, the firm that employs your boon companion, Mr. Dinkley.  Incidentally, you have noticed he deals off the bottom of the deck in playing hearts, haven't you?

(Frantic)  SON! You invested in our competition??  Wait ... he does?

(Buster) Yes, on both counts.  I'm planning on having a little fun at the annual meeting next month.  Perhaps, in the vernacular, I shall be "dropping dime" on your friend.  However, there is the matter of the sum that FJS has paid out for the latest quarter.  Did you know it was exactly enough to get this rare book of Southern ice cream topping recipes?  I thought the colour illustrations most illuminating.

(Frantic)  Might you be referring to "Miz Daphne Delacroix's Big Book of Frozen Desserts" by any chance?

(Buster holds up a large book, showing the title)  [trumpet fanfare plays]  First edition, no less, Father.

(Frantic)  Buster, my son, my only son, the apple of my eye! Could you do your old man a favor?

(Buster) You wish to consummate some kind of mutually beneficial arrangement?

(Frantic)  Well, you see, that's the very book I've been planning to give your mother for her birthday.

(Buster) Is it, now? I was planning on doing the same thing, in so far as a catcher's mitt is not the generally done thing for mothers.

(Frantic)  We could say it's from both of us!  That's plausible considering how much it cost.

(Buster) 'Tis a possibility, to be sure.  However, there is one question I would like to take up with you, and that is the matter of my bedtime.  I find my retiring hour of 8.30 pm to be very tiresome, especially since it interferes with my reading of Gibbon.

(Frantic)  We can hash out the details after dinner.  I'm already late as it is, and I need a drink.

(Buster sniffs Frantic's breath significantly)  I suggest, Father, a few mints first.

[laugh track]  (Frantic breathes into his cupped hand and sniffs it)

(Buster thinks for a few seconds)  Fair enough, as we are father and son, I will trust you with the book.

(Buster hands over the book, which Frantic places in his briefcase)

(Announcer)  Has Buster forgotten that he used all of Frantic's booze in a chemistry experiment earlier today?  Will Frantic get the book home intact and without further mishap? Is Dinkley a no-good low-down shnook?  Find out next time on THE FRANTIC FERRET SHOW!!

Brought to you by the DeSoto-Plymouth dealers of America!