01x15 - In a Bed of Rose's

[bunniefuu]

Thank you for being a friend

Traveled down the road and back again

Your heart is true

You're a pal and a confidante

And if you threw a party

Invited everyone you knew

You would see the biggest gift would be from me

And the card attached would say

"Thank you for being a friend"

Well...

here we are.

- Rose...

please.

- I can't, Al.

We've been seeing each other for a month, Rose.

I've never wanted anyone so much.

What about your place?

My sister's there.

She's an insomniac.

We'd have an audience.

I can't let you stay here.

I just can't.

I simply can't take you to a hotel.

It just cheapens it.

I guess we're doomed.

Let's talk inside.

The thing is, I've never done this before - bring someone home.

I understand.

Are you quiet?

I'm whispering.

I don't mean now.

I mean then.

Oh, very quiet.

I'm very quiet.

I don't scream.

I don't shout.

I'm a very quiet person.

I even wear quiet clothes - all solids.

- I'm quiet, too.

- Then we'll be fine!

I just don't want the others to know you're here.

They'll never know.

In the morning, we're getting up early to play golf.

- You can leave while they're gone.

- Great.

- They won't know?

- Never.

OK...

but quiet.

Like a mouse.

- Good morning.

- Oh, boy.

That must have been some dream you were having last night.

- What are you talking about?

- I never heard such a racket.

I thought you were making love.

No, no, I wasn't.

No.

It was a nightmare - an awful nightmare, just terrible.

Isn't it interesting how the sounds are the same for awful nightmares and great sex?

Really?

I wouldn't know.

- Oh, Dorothy, come on.

- Shouldn't we get going, girls?

You don't make noise?

- No.

- How can you not?

Well, I guess I always felt it wasn't very ladylike.

- We should go, girls.

- Hold your bladder, Rose.

- Not a sound?

- Well, it never seemed to warrant one.

- Well, do you talk?

- I've always wanted to, but at that point, it seems that nobody is ever interested in conversation.

Not conversation!

I mean...

dirty talk.

- Dirty talk?

- Well, not filth, for God's sake.

Dirty talk?

- Morning, Sophia.

- Morning.

- Dirty talk?

- Later.

There's a man in your bed.

- Oh, Sophia, there's not.

- Why, you devil, you.

So that was what we heard, Rose!

- Rose got lucky.

- Not so lucky.

The man in your bed is dead.

- What?

- Dead.

Oh, Sophia.

He's not dead.

I was just in there.

So was I.

I went to put back your laundry.

I see there's a man in the bed, so I introduce myself, but he doesn't answer.

He's dead.

He-He's shy.

He's very shy.

Didn't sound so shy last night.

OK, fine, let a dead guy lie there.

It's gonna be degrees today.

It won't be pretty.

Oh, I'm sure he's not dead.

Rose, go look.

Come on, he's sleeping.

I don't want to wake him.

You could light firecrackers in his nostrils.

You won't wake him.

All right, now, Rose, go on.

I don't want dead people in my house.

People?

We are talking about one man, who is probably sleeping.

You don't think I can recognize death?

I lived in a retirement home.

Death visited more often than children.

- Rose, go on.

- Well, I can't.

- Why?

- I'm afraid.

You go.

Oh, no.

I can't go in there.

I have a thing against dead people.

I've never seen one.

I never intend to.

Didn't you see your husband when he was dead?

Oh, no.

I cannot look at dead people.

That's why I don't even watch the news.

Every now and then they stick a corpse in on you.

You could be watching a perfectly lovely story about Central America, all of a sudden, bam, a dead body.

This is ridiculous!

I mean, here we sit, calmly eating our bran flakes, when there could be a dead man in the house.

I'll go.

- She's very brave.

- Boy, I'll say.

I want someone to come with me.

I'll go, I'll go.

I'm from Sicily.

What's the big deal?

He's not dead...

but he'll wish he was when those two barge in on him.

- Who is he?

- His name is Al.

- No, I mean, what's he do?

- He imports diamonds.

Oh, damn, I hope he's not dead.

He bought the farm.

What farm?

Rose, he's dead.

- No.

- Yes.

Oh, my God.

The poor man.

And with a new farm and everything.

Honey, I'm sorry.

- When did he die?

- I wasn't there, Rose.

You were.

You mean, I slept with a dead man last night?

Honey, I sleep with them all the time.

He was so quiet.

I just thought he was a sound sleeper.

- What'll we do?

- Well, we call the police.

I didn't m*rder him!

Of course you didn't m*rder him, honey.

He probably had a heart att*ck.

Now, look.

His family has to be notified.

Now, did he ever speak of any family?

He had a sister he lives with.

- Yeah, what's her name?

- His name was Al Beatty.

Her name was Beatty, too.

She never married.

I suppose I have to tell her.

Oh, yes, you do.

You cannot let the police tell her.

Oh, the night George d*ed, my telephone rang and a highway patrolman said, "Pardon me, ma'am.

Do you have a yellow convertible and a husband named George?" I said, "Yes.

Good grief, what's happened?" And he said, "Hold on, ma'am." He put me on hold, with that music while you wait.

I sat there at two in the morning, listening to Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass.

And then after an eternity, he comes back on the line, eating chips.

He says, "Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm the only one here.

My phone's been ringing off the hook." I said, "Officer, what about my husband?" And then he said, crunching his chips, "Oh, he's dead.

Wrong way driver hit him head-on.

Totally dead, ma'am." Crunch, crunch.

Oh, no!

Puts me on hold, and then eats Doritos while he tells me my life is over.

Oh, Rose has to tell her.

Rose won't eat chips.

I never eat chips.

I don't like them.

They fall in my bra.

Well, honey, you've got to do it.

His sister lives in Boca Raton.

- I'll look it up.

- Oh, thank you.

I can't sleep in a bed that's had a dead person in it.

I just can't!

- You'll get a new bed.

And sheets.

- And sheets.

And a blanket.

Burn down the house.

Oh, poor Al, and he just got a hair transplant.

Here's a Beatty in Boca Raton.

It's the only one.

And somebody told me he just bought a farm.

Oh, my God.

What'll I say to her?

- That he d*ed in the bed of an idiot.

- Ma!

- You tell the truth.

- Well, I can't tell her the truth.

- I can't tell her where he d*ed.

- He d*ed visiting.

- That's what you tell her.

- Visiting.

- Right.

- Visiting - that's good.

Oh, I just can't believe he's dead.

- I don't think she's home.

- It rang once!

Hello?

Is this Miss Beatty?

I beg your pardon?

Well, do you have a brother, Al?

I see.

Well, I must have the wrong number.

I'm sorry.

Wrong number?

- Right number, wrong person.

- What do you mean?

That wasn't his sister.

That was his wife.

- He was married.

- I can't believe it.

There's a married dead man in my bed!

- Serves him right.

- Ma!

- He lied to her.

- I don't know why they do that.

Don't they know we'll sleep with them anyway?

What am I gonna do?

I can't tell her her husband d*ed in my bed.

Tell her you went to turn on the sprinklers and you found him on the lawn.

- That's not bad.

- Oh, Rose.

Well, I've never had to do this before - tell a wife that her husband's been cheating on her with me.

That's the hardest thing to tell anybody.

Oh, no, it's not.

How about having to tell a pregnant woman that her husband's been cheating on her...

...with her own sister...

...and you're the sister...

...and you're pregnant, too...

...by her husband.

You didn't!

Not me...

last night on Dallas.

Or Dynasty.

or Falcon's Landing.

or one of those.

They're all the same.

Oh, I thought you were the one.

Oh, please.

I could never do anything like that.

If you saw my brother-in-law, you'd know why.

Look, Rose.

You're gonna have to go tell her.

I mean, she's probably worried sick already.

I've never done anything like this.

Tell a woman her husband's been seeing me?

Mm-hmm, and she'll say, "Why, that dirty rat.

I will k*ll him." And you say, "Good news, darling.

You don't have to.

He's dead." (doorbell Hello, I'm Rose Nylund.

I'll save you some time.

I don't wear Avon, I have a mop, and I'm still paying for an encyclopedia that my son used just once to look up Sexual Genitalia, Female.

Mrs.

Beatty, it's not that.

It's about your husband.

He dumped you.

You've been dating him and he dumped you, and now you're getting even by telling me.

- No, that's not...

- I've heard this before, - I can't tell you how many times.

- You have?

You think you're the first?

Please.

The first time Al slept with someone else was on our honeymoon.

- No!

- In Paris - the chambermaid.

He always had the sign on the door, "Maid Service Requested." He slept with everyone - secretaries, schoolteachers, babysitters, neighbors, friends.

One Easter, we gave our little boy some rabbits.

They used to look at Al in amazement.

How long had you been seeing him?

About a month...

but that's not why I'm here.

- I have bad news.

- Well, you couldn't be pregnant.

Last night, Al had a heart att*ck and d*ed.

Oh, Mrs.

Beatty, I'm so very, very sorry.

Well, you must have the wrong Al.

You've been sleeping with someone else's Al.

My Al is as healthy as a horse.

It can't be him!

- Al Beatty, from Boca Raton?

- Yes.

- You're telling me Al is dead?

- Yes.

A heart att*ck is crazy.

He was a runner.

He couldn't have a heart att*ck.

I'm talking, so it can't be true.

You know what I mean?

If I keep talking, it isn't true.

All I have to do is talk forever.

Oh, God, Al!

I'm all right.

I'm OK.

Al...

the big jerk.

I loved him.

He was a decent man, you know?

I know.

- He was.

- Caring.

- Very.

- Special.

And it's all my fault!

He had a heart att*ck.

It's not your fault.

He had a heart att*ck with me.

Mrs.

Beatty, my late husband had a heart att*ck with me as well.

They drop like flies around me!

Mrs.

Nylund, you're not responsible for the death of my husband.

- I'll never date again.

- You will.

I won't.

I can't.

- In time, you'll forget this.

- Never.

I promise you.

It's OK.

I'll get used to being alone.

- Mrs.

Nylund.

- Yes?

You've been sleeping with my husband and he's just d*ed.

See if you can pull yourself together, because in a minute, I'm going to need some comforting myself.

All right, try this dressing and tell me what you think.

It's called Creamy Zesty Italian, only has one calorie.

Mmm.

If you ran it under the faucet, it would have more flavor.

sh**t.

Honey, beware of anyone who says, "no calories," "absolutely no charge," and, "let's just lie down on the bed and watch television." - Hi.

- Hi.

Did you do it?

- Yeah.

- And?

I'm gonna become a nun.

I'm the kiss of death.

It's the second time a man has d*ed in my bed.

The second time?

- Dorothy knows.

- Charlie.

- No!

- Yes.

What exactly do you do in bed, Rose?

Nothing.

I do nothing.

Well, maybe that's it.

They have to do it all.

Come on, Blanche.

It's not her fault.

She has a perfectly normal sex life.

Now, I knew somebody who had seven husbands and six of them d*ed of stomach ailments.

Well, they arrested her.

She'd been putting ground glass in their salads.

- Why?

- Because she ran out of croutons!

Because she wanted to k*ll them, Rose.

We had a neighbor in Minnesota who k*lled her husband.

She backed over him with a combine and she didn't even know she had done it until she found little bits of plaid in the corn.

She said, "Funny, that looks like bits of Joe's plaid shirt...

"...and that looks like bits of Joe's overalls...

"...and that looks like bits of Joe's arms...

...and that looks like bits of..." - Rose!

We get the picture!

- They had a very little coffin...

- Ah!

Listen, Rose.

You are not to blame.

Now, you know that.

Of course I know that.

She was driving the combine.

I wasn't anywhere near their farm.

Come on, Rose, it'll be fun.

- You like square dancing.

- No, thanks.

You're only gonna be dancing with men.

You can't k*ll them by doing that.

Nope.

No more men.

That's it for me.

No more men?

My God, I would die.

I would just die.

- It's not like no more food, Blanche.

- It's worse!

There are many women who live happy lives without men.

- Oh, who?

- Well, Inga Lundqvist.

Who was she, some Swedish lesbian?

She was a neighbor of ours.

Not, by chance, the one who shredded her husband with some farm machinery?

Yes, and she never remarried.

And she led a very happy rest of her life baking, sewing, gardening, tending the animals.

Ooh, my favorite things.

OK, let's get this show on the road.

Rose, you sure you don't want to come and just watch?

Come on, Rose.

You'll sit and watch my dentures eat corn on the cob.

It's a lot of laughs.

No, I don't want to k*ll anyone else.

Honey, you sure you're gonna be all right here alone?

She'll be fine.

If someone breaks in, she'll just have to sleep with them.

(doorbell - Who is it?

- Mrs.

Beatty.

Oh, Mrs.

Beatty, come in.

I just had to come by.

You were so caring to come tell me in person what happened - that I had to do something for you.

- Oh, that wasn't necessary.

Well, I know you blame yourself for Al's death.

Well, I just got the autopsy results, and they showed that Al's arteries were completely clogged.

Oh, his diet was terrible.

He never ate a vegetable.

He lived on fatty foods.

He'd have meat for dessert.

You didn't k*ll him, Mrs.

Nylund.

He k*lled himself.

He committed su1c1de?

In a manner of speaking.

He'd have d*ed whether he'd been here or not.

I'm so glad...

not that he's dead.

I know.

I just had to tell you you had nothing to do with it.

- Thank you.

- And if he had to die, I'm glad he didn't die alone on the street, but here, with a caring person, doing what he liked to do best.

- Ma!

- What?

Will you stop telling her what to play?

I'm not saying a word.

Did I speak, Blanche?

- Not a word.

- You keep shaking your head.

I've been holding it up for years.

You'd shake, too.

Well, what do you think?

- Of what, honey?

- My new dress.

- Oh, is that new?

- Yes.

It's sort of old-fashioned looking.

I wasn't sure it was new.

- Oh, that's the style.

The girl told me.

- What was she, a pilgrim?

Come on, Blanche.

You look wonderful, Rose.

Absolutely lovely.

Well, I suppose I should go.

I haven't had a date in three months, but I just don't know what to do.

I adore Arnie.

He's the sweetest man in the world, and very special to me.

And it'll be hard no to, you know, because I like him so much, and since we're going away for the weekend, and since we already have, if I don't, then he'll think I don't like him anymore, and I do.

So maybe I will, but I don't know.

I might not.

Rose!

Rose, honey, you know you are not responsible for Al's death, so why don't you just go on, have a good time, - and whatever happens, happens.

- I know Al had bad arteries, but still, I can't be totally sure.

Come on, now, Rose.

You do what makes you comfortable and don't worry about anything else.

OK.

Well...

I'm off.

Totally!

I wonder where she is.

She's almost two hours late.

Oh, they probably hit traffic.

I bet she slept with him.

I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't.

Well, I sure couldn't be with a man I liked and abstain.

You know, I abstained after Stan and I split up...

...but it wasn't a very different experience from when Stan and I were together.

- Oh, here she is.

- Well?

Well, what happened?

- What?

- How was it?

You had a terrible time?

- You had a wonderful time?

- Honey, tell us what happened!

Arnie...

I slept with him.

- And?

- He d*ed.

- What?

- Oh, no, Rose.

And the sheriff - I told him about me, how I k*ll men...

...and he didn't believe me!

He said, "Let's see.

Sleep with me." So I did...

...and the sheriff d*ed.

Arnie's fine!

We had a wonderful time.

Everything's terrific.

I was only joking!

- You what?

- It was a joke!

- A joke.

- That's a terrible joke!

- Awful!

- You can't joke about a thing like that!

- My God, Rose!

- Well, I'm sorry.

- I believed her.

- I was set to go to her hanging.

Some joke!

I thought it was funny.