War Of Nerves
Margaret: I hope I'm not disturbing you, Major.
Sidney: Not at all, nice to see you Major.
Margaret: Well, I'm here primarily as a favour to Colonel Potter.
Sidney: Sure. What's up?
Margaret: Oh, I have a problem by the name of Charles Emerson Winchester.
Sidney: Winchester's your problem?
Margaret: He's insane.
Sidney: Really?
Margaret: He has no grasp of reality. For instance, just to give you an example, it's insignificant, really: he touched his nose in surgery and won't admit it! Is that crazy, or is that crazy?
Sidney: Classic. How often does he go for the nose?
Margaret: The point is he denies it! He's completely irrational. How do I know what he'll try to touch next?
Sidney: Uh-huh.
Margaret: What's that supposed to mean? Uh-huh. I know an "Uh-huh" when I hear one. You think I'm infatuated with him, don't you?
Sidney: Is that what I think?
Margaret: Well, let me set your mind at ease, Major. The only reason he goes for his nose is because it's the only living thing around here that would have him!
Sidney: Oh, I don't know. He seems like a decent person: intelligent, a certain amount of money –
Margaret: And money! Let's not forget his money, which he's constantly flaunting in front of us with his laundered hankies and his monogrammed caviar! I suppose you think I find money attractive?
Sidney: I've no idea.
Margaret: Money is far down on my list, Major. Money comes second, maybe even third... [pauses] Second. Anyway, the man is totally self-absorbed. What do you think of him?
Sidney: Well, he seems basically normal.
Margaret: Uh-huh. In other words, you think he's crazy about me?
Sidney: I do?
Margaret: Well, I just wouldn't be too sure about that if I were you.
[knock, Margaret starts checking on Sidney's wound]
Sidney: Come in.
Margaret: If you have any more pain, Major, just take some aspirin.
Sidney: Oh, thank you, Margaret.
Margaret: I'll go now. I'm sure you have some sort of mental problem to discuss.
The Winchester Tapes
Charles: There is a transvestite corporal with dreadful taste in clothes and a head nurse, who's part seductress and part Attila the Hun.
Margaret: You did beautifully, doctor, removing shrapnel from that liver.
Charles: Thank you. I was graded quite highly in liver.
Margaret: I didn't know you had a sense of humor!
Charles: I haven't.
Margaret: I suppose you've performed that operation a hundred times.
Charles: Hardly: there's very little shrapnel flying round Boston.
Margaret: Ha! You do have a sense of humor.
Charles: Humor is the opiate of the incompetent.
Margaret: Terrific words just roll right out of your mouth; it must be wonderful.
Charles: No, m'dear, brilliance can be very lonely.
[Klinger enters, staggering]
Klinger: Things are getting a dark gray; the room is swimming; I'm going, I'm going, save the towels!
[throws towels, Margaret catches]
Margaret: Oh, Klinger!
Charles: Pay no attention: it's a new discharge ploy.
Klinger: Big mistake: always know your audience. I hate a guy who stays for two shows.
[leaves]
Margaret: Aaah!
Charles: Something wrong?
Margaret: My eye. I think there's something in my eye. Would you mind? I'll get closer.
Charles: I see no foreign matter.
Margaret: You have such small pores.
Charles: A Winchester never perspires. There's absolutely nothing in your eye.
Margaret: I can feel it.
Charles: I'll check again.
[Fr. Mulcahy enters]
Fr. Mulcahy: Oh, terribly sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. Oh, dear.
Margaret: Father, there's no need for "Oh, dear": I'm a married woman.
Fr. Mulcahy: Oh, yes, of course, I forgot. Well, pax vobiscum. [leaves]
Margaret: I'm not sure he believes there was no hanky panky.
Charles: Well, there wasn't.
Margaret: Then why are you sweating??
The Light That Failed
[knock]
Margaret: Who's there?
Charles: It's Charles.
Margaret: Oh, I'm busy, Major. What is it?
Charles: Are you too busy for chapter 3 of The Rooster Crowed At Midnight?
Margaret: No, no, come in.
Charles: Brought this over just as soon as I was finished.
Margaret: How sweet. Thank you.
Charles: Not at all.
Margaret: It's going to be difficult to read in this light.
Charles: Would you like me to read aloud to you?
Margaret: No, no.
Charles: It's no trouble at all, Margaret. The Winchesters have always had extraordinary eyesight, particularly at night. I can see a cat before he sees me. I'd be happy to. Of course, here [brings chair close]
Margaret: Well, alright.
Charles: Chapter 3, The Rooster Crowed At Midnight, Abigail Porterfield. "As the wind howled through the stately old elms, Jessica's heart ached with longing for the young Randolph. She could best be described as a prize thoroughbred; swift, hot-blooded, and highly responsive to the whip. And yet, Randolph was her equal, a raging stallion. To call him merely virile would be to damn with faint praise. Jessica remembered that exciting interlude in his garden when he'd suddenly appeared through the hedge. "Wench, you make my blood boil," he whispered passionately. "Ever since I first laid eyes on your silken limbs and your ripe, golden bosom, I vowed to make you mine." Jessica knew in her woman's heart, that if it weren't for Lord Cheevers' cold-blooded murder, she'd be standing before the panting Randolph, her flimsy black negligee in tatters, her nakedness a golden-tinted paradise illuminated only by flickering candlelight."
[pauses, both stare at their own flickering candle]
Charles: Yes, just. Amazing how much heat one of those things can give off.
Margaret: Yes, it's amazing.
[Charles removes scarf, unzips coat a little]
Charles: "Rendering under this towering Caesar of the maiden's boudoir, that which is rightfully [thumps table] Caesar's!
Margaret: Major!
Charles: In her mind's eye, Jessica saw him aflame with passion -
Margaret: Major!
Charles: - unable to bridle his all-consuming lust he moved toward here nearer and nearer...
Margaret: Major, stop!
Charles: What?
Margaret: I'll read the rest myself.
Charles: But I'm not finished.
Margaret: Oh, yes you are!
Charles: But, Major, he's unbridled!
Margaret: I think you'd better get dressed and leave.
Charles: Dressed?
Margaret: Your scarf, Major.
Charles: Hmm?
[Margaret motions]
Charles: Oh.
[Charles fixes his clothes]
Charles: Of course.
Margaret: Goodnight, Charles.
Charles: Goodnight, Jessica.
[Margaret glares]
Charles: Margaret.
[turns at door]
Charles: Margaret.
In Love And War
Gleeson: 5 o'clock this morning I was dancing down the Ginza, with a Lieutenant Colonel under one arm and a bottle of hot sake in the other.
Bigelow: A farewell party?
Gleeson: Yeah.
Bigelow: Must have been tough leaving Tokyo to come here.
Gleeson: Well, to tell you, I was glad to get away from that dimwit Colonel: all hands and no brains.
Margaret: Let's hold down the chat, Lieutenant.
Gleeson: Major, that is the last you'll hear from me on old Donald Dimwit.
Margaret: Old Donald?
Gleeson: What a cluck.
Margaret: What?
Bigelow: Major, I'm sure it couldn't have been your DOnald.
Margaret: Well, of course not. What was his last name?
Gleeson: Oh, well, we didn't actually get to know each other on a last-name basis.
Margaret: Ohh, but he was a cluck?
Gleeson: Ah well, in an amusing sort of way.
Margaret: Uh-huh.
Gleeson: Major, don't you think we ought to change this dressing?
Margaret: Right. And then later on you can tell us all about Donald Cluck.
[Margaret leaves]
Gleeson: What do I do now?
Bigelow: Just keep away from her for a couple of days.
[Margaret pops her head back in]
Margaret: Gleeson, you're at my table.
Bigelow: And watch out for scalpels.
[Margaret comes into shower]
Margaret: Lieutenant, I was just thinking about you.
Gleeson: Major, I really don't know any more about Donald than what I told you.
Margaret: Oh, who was thinking about Donald? But as long as you brought him up, was he wearing a Masonic pinkie ring?
Gleeson: I don't think it was him, Major.
[laughs]
Margaret: Wait a minute. It couldn't have been him: Donald wasn't even in Tokyo last week. The man you were out with must have been a total drip.
Gleeson: Oh, he was a lunatic: he kept licking my fingernails.
Margaret: He...he...licking your fingernails?
Gleeson: Isn't that creepy?
[Margaret starts wailing, throwing the robes and shaking the shower]
Margaret: It was him! It was him! It was him!
[in surgery]
Margaret: You probably like to hunt and fish, don't you?
Gleeson: I beg your pardon?
Margaret: Well, what was the attraction? Are you athletic? Firm muscles, is that it?
Gleeson: As far as I know all I have is firm fingernails.
Hawkeye: What the hell is going on here?
Potter: Major, would you get on the phone, see what's holding up our shipment of haemostat?
Margaret: I'll have someone do it immediately, sir.
Potter: I'd rather you do it, Major.
Margaret: I'm really rather busy right now, sir.
Potter: I'd really rather you did it, Major.
Margaret: Certainly, Colonel. [leaves]
Hawkeye: Thank you, Colonel.
Gleeson: Thank you, Colonel.
BJ: Thank you, Colonel.
Charles: Thank you, Colonel.
Potter: Ok, Ok, I get the point. I'll straighten her out later.
Fr. Mulcahy: Thank you, Colonel.
Margaret: Colonel Potter, there was no reason to transfer Lieutenant Gleeson. I can handle my personal feelings about her.
Potter: Look, Margaret, I once had a beautiful gelding could jump a fence as easily as you could step over a crack in the sidewalk. Only trouble was, everytime the horse saw my wife's blue Pontiac, he tried to jump over it. Now, one of them had to go. I could have shot the horse, divorced my wife or sold the car. What do you think I did?
Margaret: You could have painted the car.
Potter: Y'know, I never thought of that. Anyway, you're more important to me than Gleeson was, so I had her transferred. Period.
Margaret: Well, I guess it's over and done with.
Potter: I told them to send her as far away from here as they could.
[Margaret turns sharply back]
Margaret: Not Tokyo?
[Potter pauses]
Potter: Gee, I never stopped to think about it.
Margaret: You never...You...
Potter: I should have shot the horse.
[in the Swamp]
Margaret: This place stinks.
Hawkeye: Right.
Margaret: The food stinks, the liquor stinks and the smell stinks.
Hawkeye: You said it.
Margaret: And the war stinks.
Hawkeye: It certainly does.
Margaret: What are you agreeing for? You're one of the things around here that stinks.
[both laugh]
Hawkeye: So, what are you gonna do?
Margaret: I'm gonna take him back. What are you gonna do?
Hawkeye: I'm gonna let her go.
Margaret: That stinks.
Hawkeye: It certainly does.
Images
Cooper: Does this mean you're getting off my back?
Margaret: For the moment. Oh, but don't worry, Colonel Potter'll change his mind. One day he'll be ressecting a bowel and he'll yell for suction and retraction and there won't be anybody there to give it to him because you'll be God-knows-where, crying your eyes out.
Cooper: That won't happen, Major.
Margaret: Oh?
Cooper: I won't give you the satisfaction. From now on I'm going to be just as tough, and unfeeling as you are. [leaves]
Hawkeye: Margaret, aren't you staying for the floor show? The cook's gonna confess.
Margaret: Excuse me, please.
Hawkeye: Hey, are you ok?
Margaret: Leave me alone.
Hawkeye: What's your hurry? Let's talk a little.
Margaret: What do you want?
Hawkeye: Well, you look all choked up and I don't think it's the food.
Margaret: I don't know what you're talking about, and anyway, it's none of your business.
Hawkeye: It might help to talk. Look: two ears, no waiting.
Margaret: Will you stop annoying me?
Hawkeye: Fine; I thought something was bothering you and I wanted to help.
Margaret: You're always trying to get to my head when there's nothing there.
Hawkeye: Look, Margaret, sooner or later this place gets to everybody.
Margaret: I don't fall over, captain. Everything around here will be just fine if there's a little less leaning and a lot more leadership. We need obedience. We need discipline, not this chaos. Doctors like you constantly out of uniform. Nurses who don't belong in uniform. Dogs running around loose in camp.
Hawkeye: Dogs?
Margaret: They're getting run over by jeeps.
[enters her tent]
[Hawkeye follows a second later]
Margaret: Get out of here!
Hawkeye: No, your emotions are all churned up. You're not doing yourself a favor keeping a cork on it; let it out.
Margaret: Let out what? There is nothing to let out! I'm not churned up, I'm not emotional. If you wanna cork something, go cork your mouth. Go. Go! [starts pushing him] Will you - will you just get out?
Hawkeye: Margaret, Margaret, listen: I saw you sneaking food to that dog all week, and this morning it got run over. You trying to tell me you're not upset by that?
Margaret: I've got people dying all around me. You think I'd get upset because a dog gets run over? Why should I get upset about a...about a little dog? [starts crying]
[Hawkeye holds her]
Comrades In Arms [Part 1]
Hawkeye: Why don't you read me your letter?
Margaret: Why don't you eat your steering wheel?
Margaret: How can a grown man be so mechanically incompetent?!
Hawkeye: I take a lot of cabs.
Margaret: I don't like the war, you know; I hate it. I hate the destruction, the stupidity of the waste, the destruction of personal lives.
Hawkeye: Margaret, what's in the letter?
Margaret: Ah, well, it probably would hand you a laugh, actually. For instance, this is only the beginning, "My dear Darleen".
Hawkeye: Is that your nickname?
Margaret: No.
Hawkeye: Why is he calling you Darleen?
Margaret: He's not calling me Darleen; he's probably put this letter in the wrong envelope.
Hawkeye: I'm sorry, Margaret, you must really hurt.
Margaret: Hurt?? You know what it feels like to give your heart to somebody; to live just for a glimpse of his handwriting in the mail; to lose sight of his picture because you've covered it with lipstick, and then to find out you're sturdy??
Comrades In Arms [Part 2]
Margaret: Darling, will you move please?! There are people out there who want to kill us!
Margaret: Look, I love how brave you are; it's thrilling, really. I love to see a strong man who takes charge like that. Now do what I tell you! Walk to that door!
[Margaret fixing Hawkeye's shirt]
Margaret: I like my men neat.
Hawkeye: And not on the rocks?
Margaret: When we get back, I'm going to get you a new shirt. This one's nice, but I hate it.
Hawkeye: This shirt has stains on it that hold fond memories for me.
Margaret: You know, you don't have to make a joke about everything.
Hawkeye: Just about most things.
Margaret: I'll have you in tow soon.
[rubs his chin]
Margaret: Don't you ever shave?
Hawkeye: Just my legs.
Margaret: You know, all the time when we were insulting each other?
Hawkeye: Yeh?
Margaret: Every once in a while, I'd wonder what it would be like to be...y'know, close to you. Did you? We can be honest with each other now.
Hawkeye: Yes, I did. Sure.
Margaret: And there you were, wasting your time with all those other women.
Hawkeye: Well, waste not, want not.
Margaret: I guess we have a problem, don't we?
Hawkeye: We do?
Margaret: What are we going to tell Donald?
Hawkeye: Tell Donald? Wh-what are we going to tell Donald? About what?
Margaret: About us; about what happened.
Hawkeye: Uh, well, what do you usually tell him?
Margaret: What do I usually tell him?
Hawkeye: I mean -
Margaret: Yes?!
[twig snaps]
Hawkeye: Did you just hear something?
Margaret: What do you mean, "what do I usually tell him"??
Hawkeye: Margaret, somebody's out there!
Margaret: What do you mean by that crack?
Hawkeye: Get under that bush.
Margaret: I'm waiting for an explanation, mister!
[gun cocks]
[knock at Margaret's tent]
Margaret: Yes?
Hawkeye: Don't call the police; I just want to talk.
[Margaret lets him in]
Margaret: Hurry up, don't let anybody see.
Hawkeye: Nobody saw.
Margaret: You can't hang around my door like this, you want people to talk?
Hawkeye: Margaret, I came to level with you. I don't think anything could ever come of it because we're so different, but something happened out to us out there. Both of us. Maybe we cared for each other a little bit more than either of us would like. I don't see why we can't own up to that. We might even turn out to be friends.
Margaret: I don't know what you're talking about. Nothing happened. Not a thing.
Hawkeye: Wait a minute; nothing happened, is that what you're trying to tell me?
Margaret: Not unless you took advantage of me while I was drunk!
[Hawkeye laughs]
Hawkeye: You know for a minute I was afraid I might like you too much, but I don't think I have to worry.
[turns to leave]
Margaret: No, wait, just a second. Here, sit down.
Hawkeye: Yeah?
Margaret: I think we can be friends.
Hawkeye: OK.
Margaret: I would agree to that.
Hawkeye: Fine. Well, I'll have my lawyer draw up a contract.
Margaret: I'm sorry. I'm not a very open person sometimes.
Hawkeye: Look, nothing will be different, not between you and me, or you and Donald.
Margaret: I don't expect things to be the same with Donald.
Hawkeye: Ah, you're not leaving him, are you? All he did was accidentally send you a letter he wrote to somebody named Darleen. I'm sure the one he meant for you was just as nice.
Margaret: I'm sending him a letter back. A very carefully worded letter. "Dear Hank..."
[Hawkeye smiles]
Margaret: Do you like Hank? Or maybe I should make it Dirk. Or Lance.
Hawkeye: Hank is nice. Hank will make him crazy.
Margaret: "Dear Hank, I'll never forget that night we spent in that abandoned hut. You gave me your warmth and your caring when I was afraid. And now I think, from time to time when I'm afraid again, I may have the courage to let another person know it. You've helped me grow a little. Thank you, Hank."
Hawkeye: Thank you, Darleen.
Patent 4077
[Margaret painting her toenails]
[knock makes her paint her leg]
Margaret: Who is it?
Klinger: A Lebanese, bearing gifts.
Margaret: Klinger, do you have a death wish?
Klinger: No, Major.
Margaret: I'm getting my whip!
Klinger: Hold on a minute, take a look at what I got!
[reaches ring into tent]
Margaret: My ring! That's my ring!
Klinger: Now can I come in?
Margaret: I can't believe it, how did you find it?
Klinger: On the few rest-breaks I had, I re-combed every inch of the trail.
Margaret: Oh!
Klinger: Then, this morning, on my hands and knees, too tired to go on, I looked up, and there it was! In the garbage dump! Perched majestically on a pile of mildewed wienies! The sun gleaming off of that brilliant 14-carat gold.
Margaret: Oh, Klinger, Klinger, you're a doll. How can I ever thank you?
Klinger: You can let me try that nail polish.
Margaret: Of course. I'm so sorry. When I lost this ring, I – [catches sight of inscription]
Margaret: Wait a minute, what's this?
Klinger: Huh?
Margaret: This inscription: Over Hill, Over Dale, Our Love Will Ever Fail.
Klinger: Right, that is very romantic.
Margaret: Wrong! That is very wrong. It should be "Never Fail". What happened to the N?
Klinger: The what?
Margaret: The N? As in Nut? Nincompoop? Knucklehead?
Klinger: Still rhymes.
Margaret: Klinger, how could you?
Klinger: Major, we were only trying to help.
Margaret: We?
Klinger: Hawkeye and BJ bought it and gave it to me to give to you.
Margaret: I should have known those two weasels would be in on this.
Klinger: Hey, that's not fair.
Margaret: You go tell your accomplices their rotten charade didn't work.
Klinger: Major, you're wrong.
Margaret: What?!
Klinger: Nobody was trying to make a fool outta you. We just wanted you to have your ring back, that's all. You don't have to be grateful but would it hurt to at least appreciate the effort?
Margaret: You know Klinger found my ring?
Hawkeye: I told you to have faith, Margaret. You didn't believe me, but I knew it would show up, you see?
Margaret: It's not the original.
Hawkeye: Oh, really?
Margaret: No, it's a cheap copy, and I like it a lot better. Thank you.
Hawkeye: Anytime. Forceps.
Margaret: Forceps.
Hawkeye: What gave us away?
Margaret: Over Hill, Over Dale, Our Love Will Ever Fail; the N is missing.
Hawkeye: Oh, well, don’t worry, we'll find it; we found the ring, didn't we? You gotta have faith, right, Father?
Fr. Mulcahy: That's what he tells me.