Another Period

May I have the ring, please?

Laverne has passed.

You're much more beautiful

than I ever could have imagined.

- Now it's time to make us official.

You're right.

They're divorce papers.

Shit on my tits!

This is Father Black... Donohue Black.

This is my simplest daughter, Beatrice.

- The best thing you can do for those you love

is forcefully push your beliefs upon them.

- This is Mitchell P. Spiritwalker.

I am with child.

My husband and I

are going to raise this child together.

Welcome home, Lady Dodo.

- You gave all my money away to charity.

- I'll just take the Abbey, then.

No, you get nothing.

- Well, I suppose there's only one respectable way

to settle this:

with a duel.

Keep your little Abbey.

- Lady Beatrice locked up the liquor.

- I want to go where nobody knows my name.

Where is she, Mary?

Where is she?

What is this hellhole?

Who are these people?

Why are they dressed so terribly?

Why is that man's face so woolly?

Um, this was a bad idea.

I think we should go.

- No, alcohol must always trump judgment.

- Um, Miss Lillian, I really think we must go.

No, I'm staying here.

Garfield, leave me here!

I would never leave you.

You can and you will!

Innkeeper!

This... this Greek fellow is bothering me.

- All right, out you go, you dandy.

Come on. - No, Lillian!

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

- Oh, I never thought I could have it all, but now I do.

Husband? Darling?

What's wrong?

Um, just my eyes...

I'm having a hard time seeing.

Beginning to think maybe I shouldn't have taken

those bandages off so soon.

The doctor did say to wait a week.

Whoa!

Uh, Hortense, I've gone blind.

- Oh, my goodness! - I can't see.

- Oh! - I need you to get the drops.

Oh, the drops!

Oh, no!

Oh... my love, please!

I finally found happiness

only to careen into a ditch!

Wait, wait!

I can see.

I can see.

Hortense, you've saved us.

Oh, that was close.

Thank you, Hortense.

I mean... Mrs. Fusselforth.

- Oh, thank goodness I found you.

"Thank goodness I found you."

Chancellor Fong, meet my wife.

This is the prime minister of Taiwan.

Hello.

- Um, my water... It's broken.

And?

- And I... I need you to deliver my baby.

Oh, Blanche.

I would love to.

I... I would, I just...

It's the Sabbath.

But you're a doctor...

and my husband.

- And I... and I get that. I do, I just...

I can't do any strenuous labor on Shabbat.

You understand.

- Can you light a pipe on Shabbat?

- I'm impressed that you know the Hebrew.

Uh, but no, technically not.

One can always make exceptions, though.

- Can't you make an exception for the birth of my child?

Please?

Blanche...

I'm going to give you 30 seconds to get out of this room

before I get physically violent with you.

That I'm allowed to do on Shabbat.

Out!

I'm going to give birth alone.

So that's what's happening right now.

- Do you have the champagne with the gold flecks in it

that Peepers serves on Spaghetti Sundays?

Oh, yeah, I have exactly that.

Right here.

Oh, my.

You have less teeth than a usual man.

You must save a pretty penny

on toothbrushes and toothpaste.

- I can't believe this is all really happening.

I am married to the most powerful man in media.

Oh, I can't wait to start publishing my columns and books.

Hortense, you make me laugh.

Pardon me?

Well, we're married now.

It's time for you to start popping out those babies.

- But I thought my writing was why you married me.

- Well, yeah, but you're mine now.

But I told you I'm barren.

- Well, we'll adopt. Ha ha!

I don't know why you're being so difficult about this.

The point is, you're going to stay home and rear our children.

- But you kept saying how much you admired me

being a strong, single woman.

- You hit the nail on the head with that word, "single."

You're not single anymore, are you, Hortense?

This is making me very aggravated...

Very aggravated.

It's too much excitement.

I'm sorry, darling.

You're right, of course.

I was being a mouthy wife.

Well, yes.

- I know what will make you feel better.

Oh. Huh?

Oh.

Oh...

Hortense.

Well...

Not, not so much...

Not so much teeth, Hortense.

Ahh!

Gah!

Aaaah!

- When I think about how close we came to foreclosure,

my balls become pancakes.

Yes...

What?

Can you not see we're celebrating?

- Right. We're sorry to bother you at this hour,

but there's been an accident.

Hortense and Bertram...

they're daid.

They're daid!

They're died-ded!

- They're walkin' in the green fields

with baby Jesus.

Right.

- And we can only imagine how sad it must be

to lose a daughter.

- Actually, I'd imagine it's roughly

one-tird as difficult as losin' a son.

And just a little bit harder

than losing a kitty-cat. - Right.

Oh, my sweet, brown gal.

I wish I'd appreciated you more in life.

Bright side:

we still have all of Fusselforths' money.

Hmm? - No.

There's no money.

They were married just today.

There's no will. There's nothing.

- Oh, don't you say dat. You take heart!

There's always sometin.

There's whiskey.

Aye, and there's, uh,

lambs and whores.

Shepherd's pie.

- Aye, and the wink you get from a redhead

when you know you're taking her home.

- Aye, living all your days from dis day to dat

without telling your family you looved 'em.

Yes, you've still got hope.

Get out!

Good evenin'.

- Aye. Sorry about your daughter.

No.

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!

Hey, hey!

Lillian?

What's going on?

- Who are you? What is this?

Some kind of ladies' night or something?

Ladies' night?

I think I just coined a phrase.

Ow, ooh, ooh.

Ooh, ooh, ooh.

Yogurt spoon, pudding spoon, fish fork, crab tong.

Yogurt spoon, pudding spoon, fish fork, crab tong,

Yogurt spoon-pudding spoon- fish fork-crab tong!

Oh, my God, oh, my God.

Oh, oh, oh, oh...