Frasier

Niles, what are you doing?

This fruit-nut muffin contains a number of things I don't care for.

Currants, a husk of something...

Away, wrinkly thing.

You know, if you and Maris ever reconcile,

I'm going to miss these tranquil mornings.

I reading my newspaper, you tweezing your muffin.

- Hey, boys. Hello, Dad.

Hey, I got a letter from my old Army pal, Bud Farrell.

The whole platoon's getting together next weekend in Rattlesnake Ridge.

Good for you.

Speaking of old chums, Daphne, a Clive called for you a little earlier.

Clive? Did he sound British?

No, he was one of those fiery Mexican Olives.

- He said he'd call back. Yeah, I'll bet he will.

Oh, boy, I can't wait to see the old gang.

Dad, you're not thinking of driving all the way to Rattlesnake Ridge?

It's five hours away. Your hip stiffens up.

No problem. They said I can bring a guest.

So who's the lucky one?

Well, by my count, two of us get to be lucky.

Come on, they're great guys.

Stinky, Wolf man, Boom-Boom,

Jim. Of course, his name's not really Jim.

We call him that because he likes to drink Jim Beam.

Just like we call Hank "Bud" because he drinks Budweiser.

Come on, you'd love these guys.

We're sherry drinkers, Dad. Think about it.

Anyway, I have a conference that weekend.

Yeah, and I have me friend Megan's birthday party.

Fras?

Oh, please let that be Megan needing a clown for her party.

Hello?

Oh, Clive.

Yes, it has been a long time, hasn't it?

Oh, I am sorry. I have dinner plans tonight.

Well, maybe just a drink, then. Say 6:30?

Me too. Bye.

Oh, hell.

So who is this Clive?

- An ex-boyfriend? Worse.

Ex-fiancé.

You were engaged?

For years. Oh, we were mad for each other.

He was very sweet and had the most gorgeous eyes you ever saw.

- But? - Oh, yes, that too.

I just couldn't see a future with him. I mean, the man was a total layabout.

No ambition, no drive. He couldn't hold a job.

All he wanted to do was tinker about with his car.

His hands were always black from the motor oil.

What a brutish habit.

If God had intended me to work on my Mercedes,

he wouldn't have given me Horst.

I had to break it off. But I wanted to let him down easily,

so I said if we were still free in five years, we could try again.

And here he is, right on schedule.

What do I say to him?

Be honest. Tell him how you feel.

What, to break the poor thing's heart again?

In the long run, honesty's the best way to avoid unnecessary anguish.

Well, case in point.

Dad, I do not have plans for next weekend,

but I do not intend to spend it in the middle of nowhere

with Budweiser and Boilermaker and their liver-damaged friend, Seltzer.

Well, that's fine. There will be other reunions.

There, you see? No evasions, no convenient conferences,

just simple honesty.

Course, I don't suppose Jim'll make it next time.

Says here he just had his third bypass.

- But I guess I'll see him at his funeral. - Off to work.

Unless I go first!

All right! I'll drive you to your stupid reunion.

Thanks, son.

I guess I better wait a few days to tell him about Stinky needing a ride.

And in closing, this goes out to Keith, the narcoleptic I spoke to earlier.

I'd be glad to resume our conversation when you feel a bit more alert.

But in the meantime,

I suggest that you reconsider applying for that air-traffic-control position.

This is Dr Frasier Crane, KACL 780 AM.

Brilliant show, Frasier. Chock-full of pithy insight.

- What do you want? A favour.

Bonnie Weems, the Auto Lady, just asked me

to another one of her wretched dinner parties.

I'm planning on saying that you and I have ballet tickets that night,

- so do back me up. - I'm sorry, I can't.

No, you've got to. Have you any idea how vile her food is?

The local raccoons have posted warning signs on her trash bin.

Yes, you see, she already invited me,

and I told her I was driving my father to his Army reunion at Rattlesnake Ridge.

Oh, very clever.

Well, I'd use it myself,

only I killed my father off to escape her Labor Day clambake.

Oh, Roz. Listen, I'm going to the opera tomorrow night.

- You didn't happen to remember my...? - Oh, your opera glasses.

I'm so sorry. They completely slipped my mind.

I wouldn't mind if you hadn't borrowed them

to ogle that bodybuilder across the street.

I've looked once or twice.

It's not like I copied his name off his mailbox

so I could look up his number and call him while he's in the shower

so I could watch him cross the room naked to answer the phone.

That would be wrong.

I want them back. I refuse to squint through Pagliacci

while you're trying to watch The Magic Flute.

Dr Crane, I need your opinion on this outfit.

I wanted something that sent no romantic signals whatsoever.

Well, short of a cactus corsage, I think you've captured it.

You know, Daphne, it's been five years.

That's an awfully long time to carry a torch.

- Maybe he just wants to say hello. - Oh, I certainly hope so.

The thought of having to reject the poor thing again is more than I can bear.

Oh, dear. It's him.

- Anything between me teeth? - No.

Do we have any spinach in the fridge?

Just answer the door.

Oh, Dr Crane. I was afraid you were Clive.

Clive? Oh, Clive.

Oh, was that tonight?

Oh, well, don't I feel silly bringing over this thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle.

Niles, I'm sure that Daphne doesn't want us horning in on her reunion.

- We're going to dinner. - Well, can we order in?

I've already assembled one kitten and two yarn balls.

I'm getting my jacket.

Niles, for God's sake, will you give them some privacy.

- Hello. - Hello.

Look at you. You look wonderful.

- Oh, go on! - No, no, I mean it.

Very pretty and warm.

So...

So...

- Oh, God. - What?

I've gotten a spot of axle grease on your sweater.

Oh, no, it's all right, really. It's just a ratty old thing.

Please, come in.

- Same old Clive, I see. - I suppose so.

So, what brings you to Seattle?

My undying love for you.

Oh, damn! I meant to lead up to that. Sorry.

- No, it's all right. Just a bit... - Abrupt.

No "how are you," no "nice place you have here."

By the way, it is lovely. Is that the Space Needle?

- Clive. - Big.

Anyway, I remembered what you told me five years ago,

and I thought my feelings might change.

- Five years is a long time, but... - Oh, Clive.

No, no, let me finish.

My feelings for you haven't changed.

I think about you every day, every night.

And there comes a time in every man's life

when he's gotta summon the courage to look a woman in the eye and say...

Cheese Nips?

I'm sorry. Is this a bad moment?

- Well, actually, I was... - No, no, not at all.

Well, this is my very dear old friend, Clive Roddy.

Clive, I'd like you to meet Dr Niles Crane...

my husband.

- Your husband? - Oh, yes.

Six months next week.

Well, congratulations.

You're a very lucky man.

Six months? You two are practically newlyweds.

Yes, we're still at that honeymoon stage.

It's sickening, really.

Revolting.

- Positively stomach-turning. - Darling!

- Well, I should be going. No!

I mean...

we're so enjoying having you here.

I did promise you a drink.

Oh, well, I suppose I could stay for a beer.

Oh, good.

Darling, would you give me a hand in the kitchen, please?

Certainly, my angel.

Dr Crane, I'm so sorry.

It seemed the kindest way to let him down.

I didn't mean to put you in such an awkward position.

When it comes to you, no position is too awkward.

Oh, hello. You must be Clive.

- Yeah. And you're...? - Dr Frasier Crane.

Oh, Niles' brother.

- Yes. You've met Niles? - Just now.

Though I used to know his wife quite well.

Really, you know his wife?

- She's one of a kind, that one. - Isn't she?

Certainly can light up a room.

Oh, yes. Usually by leaving it.

- Frasier! Clive!

I see you've met my husband's brother.

Yeah. I'm not intruding on some family occasion, am I?

Oh, no, not at all.

Frasier lives here. I mean, temporarily.

- You see, he's... - He's had a spat with his wife.

Maris.

Sorry to hear that.

Yes, me too.

You know, Daphne, I'm parched.

Could you show me again where we keep the wine?

Of course. Could you spare me a minute?

Oh, wait. You have to pay the love toll.

Too much. Here's your change.