Another Period (2013–…): Season 1, Episode 7 - Switcheroo Day - full transcript

Lillian arranges her own kidnapping in order to achieve fame as an abductee. Dodo orders Peepers to impersonate the Commodore and accompany her to a luncheon. Beatrice mistakes Blanche for a fellow aristocrat.

[music]

_

Oh,
I hate reading the newspaper.

They cover all the important
society women.

Why not me? Look at this one.

"Esmerelda Franco, age 52.

Left behind 2 children

- and 77 grandchildren."
- That's an obituary.

Well, I agree with Lillian.

Look! Why is there
this stupid Str-- St--

Ugh, that damn
Stringburger baby!



- Yes!
- She gets all the attention

now-- she got lucky.

She's in the paper every day.

Have a little perspective.

- That girl was abducted.
- She's not a girl.

She's a baby,
and she's not even pretty.

I don't understand why some
stupid kidnapped baby

is getting all this attention.

I have eight babies of my own,
and I can't give them away.

An innocent girl was kidnapped!

I'd say that deserves
a little attention.

Damn it, you're right.

If a stupid baby
who can't read, write,

or make
love is making headlines,



imagine the hubbub if America's
sweetheart went missing.

- Helen Keller?
- Santa Claus?

- Susan B Anthony?
- Frederick?

- Harry Houdini.
- I'm talking about me!

I'm talking about me.

[main title playing]

[whistling music]

Hey! Psst.

I hear you're the type of guy
who's not afraid to get

- his hands dirty.
- What?

I hear you are
a deranged criminal.

Oh, that.

Well, one man's Jew tracker
is another man's Jew--

I didn't come here
for anecdotes from a dogman.

Well, why did you come here,
princess?

I want you to kidnap me.

I want to ride that wave
of abduction fame

that's all the rage right now.

Well, that depends
what you're offering.

What do I think
kidnapping's going to be like?

Hmm. Maybe a little R&R.

Perhaps a maritime
retreat to Nova Scotia

for a gravlox tasting!

Come later today, after
my hot-air-balloon lesson.

Oh, and do me a favor.

Make sure to bathe.

Can't have my shoulder
smelling like a beef roast.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Like shit.

[bell tolling]

You rang, Madam?

Yes.
I need something from you.

You've already
had enough morphine

to kill a ragtime singer.

No. I've been invited

to a "Meeting of The Minds"
luncheon

at Mark Twain's home
in Providence.

I simply must go,
but cannot be unattended.

I need you to put
on one of my husband's suits

and accompany me
to the luncheon,

never betraying to anyone
that you are not he.

They'll discover the charade
immediately.

I-- I carry myself
like a servant.

Look. Do you see?

The unsightly gait
of a common flea!

I'm little better than a Gypsy.

Half a step
removed from Mongoloid.

No, Madam, I-- I beg you.

It will never work.
It's simply unthinkable.

It is an order.

As you wish, Madam.

No, Blanche,
I said I wanted this dress.

Oh, but Miss Beatrice,
this is the exact same dress.

Blanche, I'm not an idiot.

This one is small.

That one is big.

Aah!
I hate you!

Where did you get this dress?

In town?

Burn it!

I look ugly all the time!

You hate me, Blanche!

You hate me! That's
why you make me dress like this!

I'm sorry, Miss Beatrice.

I--

Emotions aren't something
I understand,

but I just keep screaming
until I get my way,

vomit, or get my way.

Clean up the mess
you made, Blanche!

"Sincerely,

The Kidnapper."

[whimsical music]

♪ ♪

Oh, farmers.

Oh, farmers.

Farmers.

[moaning]

♪ ♪

[screaming]

[shouting]

What is all that howling
and crashing?

It's just
Beatrice's Wednesday tantrum.

She'll vomit,
and then men-stru-ate,

and then all will be well.

One more,
below the 86th parallel.

- Garfield.
- Mm-hmm.

I've never been more afraid.

Don't worry.
You'll do great!

I'm not talking about myself,
you syphilitic chimney sweep!

I'm talking about you
running things in my absence.

If so much
as a single cob of corn

is out of place when I return,
I'll shove it into your rectum

along with your termination
notice. One more.

You must clean this up,
Blanche.

Don't be an idiot.

Don't be--

Don't be an idiot.

[music]

♪ ♪

I do spend a lot of time
in Paris.

[music]

♪ ♪

Why, Peepers,
you look almost human.

Madam, I assure you I am not.

Shall I lash myself to the roof,
or stuff myself in the trunk?

Oh, no, no.
You'll ride in back with me.

Oh, no, Madam.

My bottom was not meant
for comfortable things,

and it would not be proper.

It is an order.

As you wish, Madam.

Really?

[gasps]

- [tense music]
- Oh.

Hello.

Are you lost? Did you wander
into the wrong manor?

Where are your lady's maids?
Do you want to be best friends?

- I don't understand. What--
- Come on.

What--
I don't.

I don't think
Beatrice knows it's me!

Then again, I once saw her get
into an argument with an egg,

and she lost, so.

[sobbing]

[music]

♪ ♪

How dare you treat
me so roughly?

- What the hell was that?
- An abduction.

What do you think
a kidnapping is, huh?

A short sabbatical followed
by international acclaim.

I'm the former Under-Duchess
to former Lower Bavaria!

Well, you're the current
duchess of my dirt floor.

Now, would you care
for some tea, Madam?

Finally, a little service
around here.

Oops.

I spilled.

Clean it up, piggy.

And while you're at it...

[groaning]

clean that up too.

If you think I'm going anywhere

near that festering mass

of boils you call your penis,
you're wrong.

How do you know
that they're festering?

You been thinking about them?

Oh, you just you wait until
my family finds my ransom note!

You'll be sorry!
Ah!

I'll slit your throat, princess.

[music]

♪ ♪

Maybe I was being
a little rough on her,

but, hey, she said
she wanted it to seem real.

And also, in retrospect,

I probably shouldn't have poured
boiling water on my genitals.

[music]

Mr. Mark Twain.

Dodo! What a pleasure
to see you again.

Last I saw you,
I had the sour-mash shits

at your daughter's husband's
fake funeral.

Nasty affair
that turned out to be.

The funeral or the shits?

This is my husband,
The Commodore.

- [glass shatters]
- Oh, Blanche,

I think you might be
the best friend I've ever had.

Except for my bed, David,
but he's more like family.

Well, the last 30 minutes have
been really amazing for me too.

- Can I tell you a secret?
- Yes.

We had this servant.
Her name was Anna.

That's my sister--'s name.

Oh! Funny.

Well, Anna ran away.

Only she didn't run away.

She's in a box, under my bed.

At least, I think she is.

I haven't checked in a while.

Oh! Uh--

everyone needs hobbies.

Garfield, have Blanche
fetch my friend a sandwich.

Oh, but Lady Beatrice,
this is Blanche.

I just said Blanche.

You're so stupid!

See, sometimes you
have to be mean to them.

They respond better that way.
Ooh, try it!

Well, I'm not sure
that I can do that.

You can do it.

Garfield.

Mm-hmm?

You look like you have rickets.

Oh. How did you know?

Not like that! Garfield.

Yes, ma'am?

You're fired.

I'm a what?

- You're fired.
- I'm fired?

I-- This is the worst day
of my life!

Oh, God!

I can't be fired!

I'm just kidding.
You're not fired.

Oh, very good.

I love to watch the light
go out in their eyes.

Oh, you got me good--

But get her that sandwich.

Yes, right away.

I'll have to show you Anna
later.

Yes, please.

[whistling]

Yes.

That's a good little piggy.

Clean it up.

You know what?

Cook me dinner.

What's that?

It's a potato.

Where's the silver tray?

Where's the beurre blanc?

Just cook it.

Not with your hands.

Teeth.

[music]

♪ ♪

Now, let us begin
with an absinthe toast!

Raise your glasses.

Mmm.

Drink up, Commodore!

Allow me to introduce
today's guests.

The wild-haired superstar of
Russian Marxism, Leon Trotsky!

I am just here to further
the cause of the working class.

Our next guest is a lawyer

who's gotten me
out of many a fraud charge.

Mohandas Gandhi, everyone!

I'm just here
for the white women.

(Mark Twain)
You wicked Oriental elf.

What are you doing, man?

Are you attempting
to serve a warm bisque

with a gazpacho spoon?

What is this, the beer hall?

The Commodore is a--
a stickler for silverware.

I am a stickler
for the barest standards

of propriety from a butler!

Why is Blanche acting
like she isn't one of us?

I mean,
it must be switcheroo day.

There is no switcheroo day.

Beatrice is such an idiot, she
can't tell Blanche is a servant,

because she's
wearing her dress.

But Beatrice can't be an idiot.

She lives upstairs!

Sounds like you need
to switcheroo your attitude,

[chuckles]
Chair.

Ready to clean, Eileen?

"Yes, Garfield!"

Don't get jealous, Towel.

I always say,

"Have enough servants
to satisfy your every whim,

but not enough
to murder your family."

Excellent point, Madam--

wife-- madam wife.

Families should only be
murdered during revolution.

- Gandhi, boy? A rebuttal?
- Well, no offense,

but you sound like you
belong to the bitch caste.

I was raped in a gulag
by Cossacks.

Do you think your insults
mean anything to me?

I don't know what a gulag is,

but I will send
you right back there!

- Come here!
- Mr. Ghandi!

Mr. Ghandi, Mr. Trotsky, please!

Spirited debate is one thing.

Violence is quite another.

Non-violence.

I had never thought of that.

Because I'm not a little bitch!

Ah!

Dear God, please free me.

And if you have time,
make me really famous.

And while you're at it,
God, would you mind

killing all my enemies
in a fire?

Ooh, but hopefully after they
bathe, so their hair's still wet

and the fire
takes longer to cook them.

Ah!

Praying to God, huh?

You silly little piggy.

What's the latest gossip
in town about my kidnapping?

Has a search party
been sent out?

Are the banks closed?

Well, actually, there's
a real pleasantness in the air.

Like some horrible lingering
fart just left the room.

You know, at first
I was able to accept your abuse

as a realistic detail in
a curated kidnapping experience,

but-- you're just rude,

and I've taken enough abuse
from you, and I want to go home!

Fine! You can go.

I won't stop you.

But I imagine the newspapers
will be very interested to know

that you hired me to kidnap you.

Ugh, you're a monster!

- [laughs]
- [grunting]

Penis-size-wise,
you're correct.

[chuckles]

Your breath smells like broth.

So you'll stay?

I don't suppose I have
any other choice, do I?

No. No choice.

No choice at all.

[suggestive music]

♪ ♪

Life is not possible
without the working man.

Point for the Jew!

Without the rich,

the serving class would have
nothing to do but gamble,

eat taffy, and drink gasoline!

But the serving class suffers!

As we should!

Uhh-- they should!

As they should!

Just imag-- a thought.
A thought, everybody.

What would happen
if everybody had enough food?

Uh, we would all have
something to eat.

No! Well, yes, probably.

But then what?

Laziness.

Sloth.

Soon, nobody would do anything.

There are always people
who have to do the jobs

that nobody else wants to do.

If the Chinamen
had enough to eat,

he wouldn't want to string
the telegraph wires, would he?

Look, I don't like Chinamen
either, but it's still not fair.

We have such a thing
in this world as order.

The strong rule the weak.

If there were only strong,
overpopulation ensues!

Soon there will be one billion
people on this planet.

Do you think our planet
can afford one billion people?

Of course not! The planet

itself will sink down into space
and explode.

I'm having a great time.

I am The Commodore.

- Hear, hear.
- Hear, hear.

Well played.

- Ah!
- Ah! Take me!

All right.

I'll take you, I guess--

Ah, yeah. Ah! Yeah--

Oh, sorry.

Sorry. Is your hair okay?

- Take me!
- Okay, yeah, sure.

- I'll-- I'll-- I'll take you--
- Give it to me!

I'll take you.
Yeah, no, just one second here,

and we are off to the races--

- Give me it!
- One second, and-- one second.

- Uh-huh. Yes.
- Just one sec-- okay.

Oh, no-- oh, oh, oh, oh!
Here we go.

- Yeah-- No. There. One second.
- Ow.

Oops!

I dropped my fork.

Oh, no, that's okay, Garfield.

I'd like Chair to do it.

[music]

♪ ♪

You're going to regret this.

Oops! I dropped my fork, too.

Chair, stop making
me drop things!

Oh, I would like
an oyster, please.

Hmm.

♪ ♪

Actually, I changed my mind.

I don't want an oyster.

Oh, I do.

Of course,
now that I'm thinking about it,

I would like an oyster.

I feel like I
should have one first.

Thank you.

Will you feed it to me?

Thank you, Chair.

Oops!

I dropped my fork again.

[laughter]

Oh. Oh, whoops.

I know I'm not supposed
to feed the animals.

- Oops!
- [laughs]

(both) Meat Face! Meat Face!
Meat Face!

They chose the wrong
bitch to throw meat at.

This doesn't usually
happen to me--

No, no, I know.

- Was it because of me?
- It wasn't because of you.

I guess it kind of ruined things
when you said you were into it.

Not that I didn't want
you to be into it, but--

I just didn't want you to tell
me that you were into it.

It ruins it for me.

Next time I'll be sure
to cry and vomit.

- I'm gonna go--
- I-- I think you should go.

You were marvelous
this evening.

That's why they
call you the Commodore.

- I'm your butler--
- I must repay you

for your brilliant
performance this evening.

I'm going to blow your bellows.

Oh, no, no, no. No, no,
I cannot allow such a thing.

No, no. No.

Madam, I cannot allow
such a proposition.

Unbutton!

That is an order!
[laughs]

As you wish, Madam.

Ohh!

Blanche.

Almost happy to see you.

Now, I had the worst day.

Get me a poultice, a dildo,

and a soft French cheese.

- Yes, my lady.
- Where's Beatrice?

She has oyster diarrhea,
my lady.

- [flatulence]
- What are you doing

in that dress?
Take that off immediately!

- Yes, my lady.
- [grunting]

Now, I'll be in my room,
waiting on that dildo.

- Yes, my lady.
- Heat it up in the bath first.

Yes, my lady.

[toilet flushing]

Hello, Blanche, have you seen
my new friend Bla--

Wait a minute.

You're not Blanche the person.

You're Blanche the servant!

Get out of my room!
I never want to see you again,

unless you're bringing
me breakfast,

so I'll see you in the morning!

Yes. What would you like
for breakfast?

- Eggs Beatrice!
- Yes, my lady.

I'm sorry, my lady.

[grunts]

Oh! I like this dress!
Mmm.

Oh, I knew the whole time.
I was just having fun.

[electronic music]

Peepers, I don't mean
to be a Nosy Parker,

but I must tell you
something quite shocking.

What is it, Chair?

Blanche spent all of yesterday
in one of Beatrice's dresses,

impersonating
an upper-class woman.

Hmm.

Well, I think we can let
this little impropriety slide.

We all deserve a switcheroo
every now and again, eh, Chair?

- But, sir--
- Ooh, speaking of butts, Chair,

there is an oyster situation
in Beatrice's water closet

that I need you
to attend to post haste. Go.

Muddy, muddy, scrubby, scrubby.

I'll need you to skin
those potatoes.

Ask the cook. Not my job!

Turns out I'm your boss.

So it's your job now, piggy.

Great.
Now you get hard!

[peaceful music]

♪ ♪

Oh! Oh, ho, Peepers!

Oh, what happened last night?

I don't remember anything
after the toast.

Oh-- no, nothing.

I'm never drinking
absinthe again.

That reminds me,

I have a pair of soiled
bloomers from last night

that need laundering.

So you-- take care of that,
will you?

Muddy, muddy, scrubby, scrubby.

As you wish, Madam.