02x09 - I Am the Onion

[bunniefuu]

I don't feel sick.

Why do I have to see a doctor?

A psychiatrist is a special kind
of doctor, honey.

Dr. Wagner is just going to talk to you

and help you talk about
what you've been going through.

I haven't been going through anything.

Let me refresh your memory.

Your friends read the awful things
you wrote about them in your notebook.

You terrorized your class with a bullfrog.

And what else?

I know.

You threw a stuffed duck at your parents.

Can't we just talk it over on our own?
Mother to daughter?

Friend to friend?

Nice try, Harriet.

Whenever you're ready.

Hi, I'm Dr. Wagner.

Pleased to meet you, Harriet.

I just want you to know
that I'm here under protest.

Duly noted.

We can talk after.

Shall we?

Like I had a choice.

I won't lie to you.
I was a little nervous.

The doctor's hair looked like fire.

There was all this weird art,

little kid games

and a doll that was staring
right into my soul.

I'd give it a try.
But if things got out of control...

Fascinating.

...I could always pretend to admire the art
or escape through the window.

Put on a fake beard
and stow away on the tugboat.

What you thinking about, Harriet?

Nothing, Doctor. Nothing at all.

I just wanna be
You just wanna be

We just wanna be

I am gonna be who I wanna be

My autonomy

No, I won't cut my hair

And I'll wear whatever

I like it when I get to be myself

I don't wanna be
You don't wanna be

We don't wanna be told what to do

What are you writing about me?

Just a few notes.

You don't mind, do you?

No.

But if you write anything mean
and my mom finds out,

you may have to go see a psychiatrist.

Would you like a notebook too?

It just doesn't seem fair
that I have one and you don't.

My fingers itched
at the thought of a notebook.

Of my pen flowing over the pages.

My thoughts finally free to move.

It was obviously a trap.

Whoa! Whoa!

No, thanks. I'm good.

So, Harriet. Why do you think you're here?

Why do you think I'm here?

Well, your mother says
your nanny had to leave suddenly

and you may be having trouble adjusting.

Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?

What was on my mind
was that rather than escaping,

it might be easier to just get kicked out.

I've been having some dizzy spells.

Do wanna have a staring contest?

Ever make a rug angel?

- Harriet?
- Yeah?

Would you like that notebook now?

Yes, please.

Writing my name
on a new notebook

always made me feel
like I could do anything.

Even talk to a psychiatrist.

So tell me, Harriet,

what did it feel like
when your nanny left?

It felt like-- it felt like a--

a weird splinter in my stomach.

I told her everything.

About Ole Golly,
my stolen notebook and me.

I want to know everything.

And to know everything,
you have to see everything.

And to see everything,
you have to be a spy.

You know, Harriet,

sometimes the best person to spy on
is yourself.

Okay.

I want you to think about that.

And we'll talk about it next time.

I'll give this back to you
at our next session.

How 'bout that?

I had to admit, I liked this lady.

Although giving me a notebook
and then doing take-backs

was a pretty dirty trick.

So, what did Dr. Wagner say to you?

She said you were
a fascinating young lady.

She's not wrong.

Sweetheart, have you ever thought about
just apologizing to your friends?

No.

Dr. Wagner suggested giving you a goal.

You apologize to your friends,
and you can have your notebook back.

I'm going to be playing cards
at the Whiteheads' tonight.

Why don't you join me?

You can start by apologizing to Pinky.

He should apologize to me
for reading my notebook.

Just think about it, okay?

I thought about it.

And I thought about it some more.

And I thought about how much I missed
my notebook.

And how much I miss Ole Golly

and what she would say
if I apologized to him.

Then I thought about how much I liked
Howard Finch's pinkie ring.

Sometimes it's those tiny little details

that make you feel
that something fake is real.

Esteemed members of the jury,

I am here because I believe
in the power of the truth.

And I intend to prove
beyond a shadow of a doubt

that my client is innocent of all charges.

And then I thought
about what Howard Finch said.

And I realized
that I didn't need to apologize.

What I needed was justice.

Welcome, you two.
Carol, I hope you showed up to play.

I didn't show up to play, Peggy.
I showed up to win.

Pinky, look who's here.

Why don't you and Harriet go outside?

I'm sure you have a lot to talk about.

Okay.

This was gonna be a snap.

I'd win my case with Pinky,
get my notebook back

and I wouldn't even have to worry
about anybody else.

No.

What's going on, Pinky?

I may have accidentally mentioned
to a few people

that you were coming over to apologize.

Look who's here. Everybody, look.

Hi.

Magic notebook. Away.

We're ready for your apology.

Actually, I was planning
to prove my innocence.

Esteemed members of the court,

I'm here because I believe
in the power of the truth.

And I intend to prove,
beyond a shadow of a doubt,

that my client, Harriet M. Welsch, aka me,

is innocent of all charges.

Let's have a trial.

If I win the case, I get my notebook back.

And when you lose?

Then I'll agree
to any punishment you want.

Any punishment?

Group meeting.

Because you're playing an onion
in the school play,

if you lose, you have to eat an onion.

The whole thing.

Punishment accepted.

If you're gonna be Howard Finch,
you gotta have a pinkie ring.

Let's take it to the courtroom.

Pinky, it's your house.
You get to be the judge.

I'll need a judge's robe for that.

I got it!

- Rachel, you're the bailiff.
- Great! What's a bailiff?

You keep order in the court.

By any means necessary.

Say no more.

I'll be the courtroom artist!

I'll be the writer-downer.

- Great. Obviously, I'll be the prosecutor.
- No.

I'll be the prosecutor.

Why you?

I know Harriet better than anyone.

And that means
I know all her little tricks.

What am I supposed to do?

You can be a witness.

A star witness.

A superstar witness.

Hear ye! Hear ye!
The court is now in session.

All rise for the adorable Judge Whitehead.

Rachel called Pinky adorable.

It's "honorable," Rachel.

Whatever.

I said, "all rise!", you crumbs.

What's that?

My gavel.

Please be seated.

Maybe it was just the pinkie ring,
but I was feeling pretty confident.

However, my left leg was telling
a different story.

Worried?

No.

My leg may be jiggling,

but I've got something rock solid
to stand on: the truth.

Tonight's case is

The Ex-Friends of Harriet M. Welsch
vs. Harriet M. Welsch.

Let's begin with opening statements.

People of the court,

I intend to prove that the defendant,
Harriet M. Welsch,

is guilty of crimes against friendship

by writing down cruel, unfair accusations
and not apologizing.

Counsel for the defense?

I know you don't like me very much
right now.

Maybe you even hate me.

But you don't have to like someone
to know that they are innocent.

Because the facts speak for themselves.

And they say the only thing I'm guilty of
is telling the truth!

Prosecution, you may call
your first witness.

I call to the stand Sport Rocque.

Sport, will you read the section
on page 55?

If I have to.

"Sometimes I can't stand Sport.

With his worrying all the time
and fussing over his father,

sometimes he's like a little old lady."

And how does that make you feel?

Lousy.

And it wasn't fussing, Harriet.
I'm not a fusser.

I don't think "fusser" is a word.

I'll let it stand.

Sport, on the night in question,

Janie asked if your dad
could do the dishes

- so you could go to a movie with her.
- That's right.

Then, what did you say?

I said, "That'll make his fingers
all wrinkly and pruney

and he won't be able to type
on the typewriter."

When Janie said,
"Can't you do them later?",

what did you say?

A dish left behind is a dish on the mind.

Sport, those are both things
my grandmother would say to me.

Oh, yeah?

Well, excuse me for trying
to help out a guy

who's raising me all by himself

while trying to write
like a million-page novel.

I was just making an observation.

Harriet...

For someone who says
she wants to know everything,

sometimes you don't know anything.

I'm outta here.

Sport.

Nice going, Harriet.

You're the one who read it to him
in the first place

from my secret, private notebook.

Next witness.

One by one, all the people
I wrote about in my notebook

came up to testify against me.

Everybody knows you were once
Harriet's biggest fan, correct?

Well, I don't know about that.

But I did try to dress like her,

and once I started a secret fan club
called the Harri-ettes.

That's two T's, Beth Ellen,
like "barrette."

But was I a fan? I don't think so.

Right.

Well, as the biggest non-fan fan
that ever fanned,

let's turn to what Harriet said about you
in her notebook, shall we?

Okay.

"Sometimes I think that people only go
to Carrie Andrews' house

because of her mom's cake."

Now, do you think that's true?

No.

People who come to my house often say,
and I quote,

"Thank you for inviting me, Carrie.
I had a very nice time."

No further questions.

Carrie, will you kindly tell the court

what people say
before they come to your house?

Well, they ask if my mom has made

her famous five-and-half-layer
dutch chocolate cake.

With silvery sprinkles on top
that taste like snowflakes.

No further questions.

Sorry.

But that doesn't mean anything.

- Move it or lose it, Carrie.
- It's just a coincidence.

The court calls Beth Ellen Hansen
to the stand.

Excuse me.
It's time for the superstar witness.

Wait your turn, Marion.

Take it easy, Pinkie Ring.

Objection! She's not the next witness.

Overruled?

I don't need the notebook.

I know Harriet's poisoned words by heart.

And I quote,

"For all the awards Marion has won,

I'm surprised that she hasn't won
a giant trophy

for her achievements in the area
of being a lousy, rotten person."

To this I say,
you are a nasty piece of business,

Harriet M. Welsch.

To that I say,
on October 12th at 3:30 p.m.,

did you or did you not
hand out a newsletter

that had a big picture of me
and Sport holding our stuffies?

Well, if you're going to keep score,
you have to subtract all the times

I could have done something mean
and I didn't.

No further questions.

Beth Ellen, what's today's total
of mean things I could have said to you,

but I did not?

Three.

No, two.

Three. Definitely three.

Maybe four.

No further questions.

"I wonder if Beth Ellen
has to use a special shampoo

for people who nervously chew
their hair all the time."

Your response?

I'm not nervous. I just like the taste.

"Sometimes I think
Pinky and Purple Socks should quit school

and join the weirdo circus."

- How did that make you feel?
- Outraged!

Order in the court! Order I say!

I' m sorry, Your Honor.

I'll remind you,
this is a courtroom, not a zoo.

- Nice.
- I've been practicing.

Great job, guys.

Deal with it!

"Instead of calling
that terrifying creature

that lives under your bed 'The Bogeyman,'

they should just call it,
'The Rachel Hennessey.'"

My little brother already does that.

Finally, it was time
for our closing arguments.

I submit that not everything I wrote down
was nice,

but as I have proven, all of it is true.

And, in the words of the great Ole Golly,

a writer's responsibility
is to tell the truth

because truth is beauty,
and beauty, truth.

I could feel it.
The case was in the bag.

After my brilliant cross-examinations,
what could Janie say?

Judge Pinky,
instead of my closing argument,

I would like to call

Harriet M. Welsch to the stand.

Objection, Your Honor.

It breaks every rule
our justice system stands for.

May I remind Your Honor

that our "justice system"
has a witness stand that's a birdbath

and a judge, no offense,
who's wearing his dad's bathrobe?

Objection overruled. I'll allow it.

Miss Welsch.

There's a passage you wrote about me
on page 77.

Would you mind reading it to the court?

Okay.

I said, "Janie wants to be
a major scientist like Madam Curie.

But sometimes I think--"

You know what,
on second thought, don't read it.

Put your notebook down
and just say it to my face.

You know what it says.

Yeah, I know what you wrote.

But I'd like to hear it
come from your mouth.

I don't want to.

Don't make me have to call the bailiff.

Nobody wants that.

Well, if it's true, as you claim it to be,
why can't you just say it?

Because...

Because you're a chicken
and a sneak who spies on her friends

and writes down mean things
in your precious little notebook

because you don't have the guts
to say it to our faces.

Can we have a brief recess?

Denied.

We're waiting, counselor.

Say it.

A mad scientist, a bad scientist.

Or possibly a mad, bad scientist.

That really hurt my feelings.

But it's true.

Maybe so, Harriet M. Welsch.

But life isn't just about truth.

It's about friendship, too.

And in a friendship,
if you hurt a friend's feelings,

you should apologize.

Ole Golly taught me
that if you're going to be a writer,

you have to be brave enough
to tell the truth

and not apologize for it.

Well, Ole Golly isn't here anymore,
but I am.

What if I apologize for not apologizing?

Just say it, Harriet. It's not that hard.

I-- I want to,
more than anything in the world, but...

You said before that life
isn't just about telling the truth.

But what if it is for me?

It's your choice, Harriet.

I said I'd eat this onion if I lost

because I knew I was going to win.

I just had to prove
that I was telling the truth,

and that's what I did.

So why do I feel like I lost?

I hated that I had to be an onion
in the play.

Then I started to see
what was good about it,

with all its different layers
and everything.

And I tried to be the onion,
like a good actor is supposed to.

But now I realize...

An onion is a stinky, unlovable,
wretched thing that makes people cry.

Just like me.

The truth is, I am the onion.

Time to go home, children.

Sweetie, what's wrong?

My heavens.

Honey pie. What's this all about?

Poor baby.

How'd it go?

Did you apologize to your friends?
Did you get your notebook back?

I just wanna go home.

Okay, honey. Okay.