[THEME MUSIC PLAYING]
[DOORBELL RINGS]
Coming.
Oh, Dr. Crane.
My God, after all our years together
all the good times, all the bad times you can't loan me a meager $4,000?
You must appreciate how hard it is for me to approach you about this.
I thought I meant more to you but, apparently, I don't.
And they call themselves the friendly bank.
What do you need to borrow money for?
I saw the most exquisite Biedermeier footstool.
For 4,000 bucks?
Your mother and I didn't pay that much for our first house.
I know, Dad. I lived there.
You don't have Maris' money to throw around anymore.
You'll have to start cutting back a little.
I have cut back.
I told my masseur I could only see him once a week.
I remember that scene in Grapes of Wrath when Ma Joad did that.
You know, if you need to save a bit,
you should do what I do and cut out coupons.
Coupons…
What a wonderful way to economize.
Well, I could clip them and give them to my personal shopper.
-Oh, Niles, good morning. -NILES: Hey.
Daphne, has Bebe Glazer called back yet?
Afraid not.
You're still consorting with that barracuda?
Well, a barracuda is what you want in an agent, Niles.
It's just that, uh, the station's been sold.
She might have scuttlebutt on the new owner.
[DOORBELL RINGS]
I must admit, she's rather hard to get a hold of these days.
NILES: Really?
I thought one just drew a pentagram on the floor
and chanted, "I summon thee," three times.
-Hello, Roz. -Hey.
-Hey, Roz. -Have a cup of coffee.
What have you got on the new owner?
Plenty. His name is Wilfred S. Boone but he likes to be called "Big Willy."
Well, there's a little snapshot of his psyche right there.
Yeah.
He's an 85-year-old Texan.
Practically no formal education
but he went from errand boy at a radio station
to owning his own media empire worth 600 million.
This is great.
I don't even know what Renuzit is but it's 20 cents off, and I want it.
You're clipping coupons?
I'm economizing.
Oh, well, it's about time. You spend money like a drunken sailor.
She said authoritatively.
-May we get back to the subject at hand? -Why are you so antsy?
Dad, Wilfred S. Boone…
"Big Willy."
Please, Roz. I just can't say that yet, all right?
He owns 30 radio stations across the country.
If he likes you, he's been known to syndicate your show nationwide.
So, I'm trying to find out
if we have anything in common, an angle, if you will.
So, what are his interests?
It's all in there he likes whittling, rodeos,
the novels of Zane Grey.
Jeez, Fras, like you two were separated at birth.
He also owns a 5,000-acre cattle ranch
and the world's largest collection of antique six-shooters.
Oh, dear God, I'm sucking up to Yosemite Sam.
I think if we wanna impress Big Willy,
we should think of some Western theme for the show today.
Great idea. Why not start with a segment
on how to get in touch with your inner young 'un?
GIL: What a fascinating theory…
-What's going on? -This is great.
I told Gil the new station owner is a Greek tycoon.
He fell for that?
Hook, Line and Souvlaki.
GIL: And so…
You can keep your overripe Camembert and malodorous Stilton.
They can't compare
with the salty insouciance of Greece's glorious Feta.
It's not just for shepherds anymore.
This is Gil Chesterton saying, "bon appétit."
Or as we say in Athens, "kali orexi."
Oh, Gil, you've been had. The new owner isn't Greek.
He's from Texas.
You are so easy!
GIL: Well, I hope you're happy.
I've just given four stars to a restaurant called
"A Taste of Greece."
Which, trust me, is no misnomer.
That's what you deserve trying to suck up to some senile old coot.
Hell, he probably can't eat anything but strained peas and farina.
Mr. Boone?
That's right.
Pleasure to see you. I'm Dr. Frasier Crane.
-This is Roz Doyle, Gil Chesterton and… -I'm Skippy the lunch boy.
So, that's two strained peas and a farina for the big guy.
Skippy, change my order.
I've got a sudden hankering for baby back ribs and corn bread.
WILLY: Oh, I've been looking for you, Dr. Crane.
I have a little problem.
They told me you're just the fella who could fix it.
-I hope I'm not imposing. -Oh, no, don't be silly, Mr. Boone.
Actually, I prefer "Big Willy."
Don't be silly, Big Willy.
You see, I'm engaged to be married.
Oh, congratulations.
Sweet, young thing, just nuts about me. Problem is, she smokes.
Oh, Lord, that is a very bad habit.
Oh, it's a vile habit.
Would have destroyed my affection for her if she didn't possess certain…
Compensating gifts.
Anyway, as a favor to me, could you help her?
Well, I'll certainly try.
Just keep in mind, though, addiction is fraught with many complex issues.
Length of habit, motivation…
Forgive me. Sometimes, I don't express myself too clearly.
When I said, "Could you help her?" What I meant to say was, "Help her."
Consider it done.
Much obliged. She'll be in touch.
That's me, Dr. Frasier Crane, Bimbo Wrangler.
God.
Frasier, stop it, this is a golden opportunity.
You make this little tootsie quit smoking, we're halfway to syndication.
Did someone say syndication,
or do I hear it every time I lay eyes on my favorite client?
Oh, Bebe.
Is something wrong, dear?
We just met Big Willy.
He thinks I'm some sort of a magician.
He wants me to play therapist to his little fiancée,
some gold-digging piranha so devoid of scruples
that she's willing to rob the coffin…
Oh, dear God!
Isn't it wonderful?
We met last month, and it was love at first sight.
First sight of what, his bankbook and a cardiogram?
Two minutes.
I'm hurt that she could even joke about such a thing.
I love that dear, sweet, old man with every fiber of my being.
I'm sure, you do.
There won't even be a wedding if you can't get rid of that rotten habit.
He just ordered me to see that you do.
God, you'd think a touch of emphysema were the end of the world?
What's that in your hand, woman?
Sorry, puddin'. Bebe slipped.
Just that all-important last puff.
Well, see that it is.
Dr. Crane, I'm heading out of town for three days.
When I get back on Sunday,
I expect my little gal here to be smoke-free by then.
In three days?
Now you do whatever it takes to help her, Doc,
drugs, straitjackets, electroshock.
You see how he dotes on me.
FRASIER: Excellent progress, Bebe.
We have really dived into the emotional void that is the root of your addiction.
Your fear of abandonment, your fear that those you trust
will suddenly turn their backs when you expect them to
-[DOORBELL RINGS] -Excuse me.
My God, it all seems so clear now.
You're a miracle worker.
If I had a dime for every time, well…
-Niles! -Hello, Frasier.
I noticed you were out of capers the other night so I got you this.
Thank you, Niles, but…
Why so many?
I just discovered a place called Price Busters Warehouse.
You have to buy in bulk but the savings are extraordinary
and they have a huge selection.
I found french fries and French doors in the same aisle.
Well, next time you go back,
be sure to buy me a thousand swordfish so I can use these up.
You laugh, but I could do it like that.
So, how goes the great smoke-out?
Until today, I had no idea
what a brilliant therapist your brother is.
He has tunneled his way into the very depths of my psyche.
-Well… -Well
let's hope he sent a canary down first.
Well, I'll be running along.
I'll see you at 10:00 tomorrow.
In the meantime, it's exercise,
lots of fresh spring water and nicotine gum for the cravings.
That's my girl.
Bebe, you know, I'm writing a paper on addiction.
I'd love to ask you some questions
unless there's some reason you're eager to be off.
Me? No.
No. Not at all.
I need to discuss a personal matter with Frasier first.
-Of course, I'll give you some privacy. -Oh, thank you.
It's time for my water anyway.
-Yes, Niles? -Let her out that door,
she'll smoke half a pack before the elevator hits the lobby.
How can you know that? You hardly spoke to her.
Obviously, you didn't see the crazed, cunning glint in her eyes.
She always looks like that, she's an agent.
I know about addiction.
It's the exact same look Maris used to get during the cough syrup years.
The only way to deal with it is to lock her up,
take her money and watch her like a hawk till it's out of her system.
-She would have to stay for the weekend. -Who's staying all weekend?
-Bebe Glazer. -Here?
-What they she have to stay here for? -She's trying to quit smoking.
Great. That means she'll be extra loveable.
Not to worry, Dad. There's no reason she has to stay for the weekend.
Bebe and I made a real breakthrough today. If you don't believe me,
just come on in the kitchen you'll see that I'm right.
I'm sorry, I can't stay and help you with the paper Niles,
wedding preparations and all,
but I'll remember those hints. It's exercise, gum and lots of water.
Water should come in handy for putting out those pesky purse fires.
All right, Niles, secure the door!
You are not going anywhere. You're staying for the weekend.
Now, give me that purse!
BEBE: All right.
Just let me remove one very precious memento.
Very well. Oh, stop it! Stop it!
More.
What, again?
That's her third serving.
Now, now, now, it's just flattering to Daphne
that Bebe finds her food so tasty.
I'm orally fixated.
I'd eat a half-stunned wharf rat if you put some gravy on it.
Oh, I'll bear that in mind come breakfast time.
Now, please, please, let's all try to remain supportive of Bebe.
I think she's really doing rather well.
So, I hear your fiancé is well-to-do.
Very. You going to eat that fat?
Marrying money can have its perils.
Ten or 15 years down the line after you've adapted to a lifestyle
now totally beyond your means, you can find yourself
cast aside, a hollow husk, penniless and crushed.
Niles, Big Willy's 85. He's on his third pacemaker.
Ah. Mazel tov.
Just out of curiosity, this guy ever see you eat?
After dinner is the time I need a cigarette most.
As long as I don't stop eating, I'll be fine.
Very good, Bebe.
You're already identifying those moments that trigger your worst cravings.
-Yeah, yeah. -No, no, really.
Perhaps it would help to know that you are not alone.
Dad is an ex-smoker.
Dad, can't you tell us about when you crave a cigarette most?
Ah.
-When I have insomnia. -FRASIER: Mm.
I'd get up, pour a water glass full of bourbon, light a cigarette,
next thing you know, I couldn't keep my eyes open.
Nothing relaxes you like a cigarette.
Of course, gives you a hell of a headache in the morning.
Well, I smoked for years but I never became addicted.
To this day, I can buy a pack, have a cig or two, toss them in a drawer,
and not crave another for months.
You know, there's a word for people who can do that.
What is it? Oh, yes. Bitch.
There's no need to be insulting
just because you're wrestling with an unhealthy and disgusting habit.
It isn't disgusting. It's wonderful.
Oh, now, Bebe, tell me, what is so wonderful about smoking?
Everything.
I like the way a fresh, firm pack feels in my hand.
I like peeling away that little piece of cellophane
and seeing it twinkle in the light.
I like coaxing that first sweet cylinder out of its hiding place
and bringing it slowly up to my lips.
Striking a match, watching it burst into a perfect little flame
and knowing that soon that flame will be inside me.
[LAUGHS] I love the first puff.
Pulling it into my lungs, little fingers of smoke filling me.
Caressing me,
feeling that warmth penetrate deeper and deeper
until I think I'm going to burst, then…
Whoosh.
Watching it flow out of me in a lovely sinuous cloud.
No two ever quite the same.
More potatoes, anyone?
Yes!
Thank you.
You're up early, Miss Moon.
Oh, God, you startled me.
Ever since your little speech about smoking
I haven't been able to think about anything else.
Please don't mention this to Dr. Crane.
Silence has its price, dear, and I think we both know what that is.
Oh, forget it. You can't make me give you one of these.
Oh.
Can't I?
You open up right now!
All right, Missy! Here's the drill.
You drop those cigarettes, I'll open the door.
You kick them over to me. Capisce?
No!
Ooh. Is it cold outside?
All right, you asked for it!
No, no, please, I beg you!
Oh, no, my fingers are getting weak. Oh, I'm losing my grip.
Stop, please!
I'll give you anything you want, I'll make you a star!
-What the hell is going on out here? -Daphne was smoking.
She made me.
All right, Give me those.
Oh, look at me. I'm all damp and chilled to the bone.
I'll get you a towel. My God, it's 5:30 in the morning.
Dad!
I couldn't sleep.
Have you all lost your minds?
All right, now listen. Get back to bed, every one of you.
All right, all right.
Thank God you came in when you did.
She was preying on my weakness. Who knows what I might have done?
-Probably this. -Get her! Stop that woman!
Bebe, you will not be allowed to smoke a cigarette in this house.
No, no, don't even think about it!
Just give me those right now! That's it! Back to bed!
Oh, my God! You're insane, woman!
That's it! No more houseguests!
Get off me, you brute!
Hand them over!
Never!
[PHONE RINGS]
That'll be the neighbors.
Hello? Oh, hello.
One moment, please. It's Big Willy!
Big Willy! Hello!
No, no, it's not too early. Everybody's up.
Yes, well, you know,
there's been a few minor setbacks but I'm keeping on top of her, yeah.
Oh, yes. I know she'd love to say hi. Hang on.
Hello, puddin'. I'm fine, and you?
Oh, nothing's too much trouble for you, Daddy.
Bye, now.
Yes, sir. Yes. Oh, really?
Well, oh, no, I'm very flattered. Yes, if course. I'd love to.
I'll… I'll talk with you this evening.
Bye, bye. Thank you, Daphne.
All right, now, listen up. He thinks I'm very gifted.
He thinks I'm wasting my talents in just one city.
My God, woman, he wants to take me national. Don't you get it?
Unless you ruin it for me!
Oh, my God, I'm sorry, here!
Take them.
I don't know what came over me.
Well, don't be too hard on yourself, Bebe.
After all, addiction to nicotine is a very, very difficult…
Hey, wait a minute. This pack is half empty.
For God's sake. I don't care anymore.
You know, I can't help you. Nobody can. You want to ruin it for both of us?
Here. Go ahead. Knock yourself out.
I only wish I could be there when it happens.
When what happens?
When you see that newspaper headline,
"Big Willy Boone, millionaire, dead."
Oh, how I wish I could be there when you watch the funeral on the news,
watch the casket being slipped
into the ground, only you won't be watching that.
No, no, you'll be watching the Widow Boone.
Tiffany, perhaps.
-Oh, no, better yet, "Kelli" with an "I." -Stop it!
You'll picture her wearing your jewels, sailing in your yachts,
sleeping with your gigolos, but, oh, you won't be sad.
No, no, no, because you'll have your cigarette.
Yeah. Clutched in your nicotine-stained teeth,
smoke whirling about your once-pretty, now-creased
-leathery, smoke-ravaged… -Enough!
God!
You are one hell of a therapist.
Hey, you're back from the wedding already?
-No. -There was no wedding.
No wedding. No syndication deal.
What's she doing here?
No money, no fame.
Well, you might say things hit a bit of a snag.
No beach house, no pool boys.
Oh, will you get a grip, Roz?
What went wrong?
Well, they were halfway down the aisle, Big Willy beaming proudly.
Bebe radiant, supporting Big Willy on her arm
when suddenly he clutched his heart
and his head slumped against Bebe's shoulder.
Of course we were all concerned at first but it seemed he was all right
because they kept moving down the aisle.
But if you looked carefully, you could see Bebe's little bicep bulging
through her wedding gown and I swear, I noticed daylight
between Big Willy's dress boots and the carpet.
Well, once they got up to the minister the jig was pretty well up,
despite Bebe's valiant attempts to animate his features
by twisting the loose skin at the back of his neck.
You know, I've never seen a woman more crushed.
Well, if I were you I'd get her away from that balcony rail.
The doorman gets ticked
if you even throw a piece of gum over the side.
Bebe, dear. Please. Come on in. That's a girl.
All right. Let me have a look at you. Come on.
There we are.
Well, I don't really blame you, dear. You know, Roz and I are both upset too.
You know, look at it this way,
at least you're no worse off than you were before.
You don't know the things I did for that man,
the depraved, Western-themed appetites I satisfied.
He was 85. How bad could it have been?
Ever worn a saddle?
-Do I have to answer that? -No.
Well, Bebe, you know,
there are other Big Willys out there, better ones.
Richer, older, impotent.
Oh, dear.
-You always know what to say. -Well…
I know what hell I put you through over this.
I insist that you take this as a small token of my gratitude.
Oh, Bebe, really…
Look, Roz. It's a gold Rolex. Oh, my goodness.
Bebe?
Where did you get this?
Just don't wear it to the funeral.
♪ Hey, baby, I hear the blues a-callin' ♪
♪ Tossed salads and scrambled eggs ♪
Oh, my.
♪ And maybe I seem a bit confused ♪
♪ Yeah, maybe, but I got you pegged ♪
Ha, ha, ha, ha!
♪ But I don't know what to do ♪
♪ With those tossed salads and scrambled eggs ♪
♪ They're callin' again ♪
Thank you!