Get A Leg Up.

A Note:  Beth sent this to me thinking that I might be able to use it
as the basis for an episode.  I fell out laughing as I read it, then I had
to decide...and the decision was simple.  There was nothing I could do to 
this to change it, nothing I could do to expand on it or improve it, plenty
I could do to destroy it.  Now that I have it here...I want it to go on
verbatim.  It stands on its own, as a perfect introduction to all the months 
of frustration and adjustment that both Sam and Beth will have to undergo
as Sam's leg heals and Beth gets used to being self-employed with a Big
Dawg underfoot.  Read...and enjoy.

Beth was getting an early start.  She had gotten up to make breakfast
for her and for Sam.  His meal was confined with him to bed, while
Beth ate sitting at the computer and waiting for a fax to come in. 
By now, Sam would be napping, per doctor's orders, so Beth took
advantage of the quiet to write a little while she waited for the fax.
She was staring at the same page of dialogue that she had been
staring at for a week.  At one and a half pages it was either writer's
block, or the shortest play in the history of theatre.  She took
another sip of Earl Grey tea and waited for Divine inspiration.  The
phone rang instead.

Beth:  Hello?

Sam:  Ho!

Jason:  Beth?

Beth:  Just a sec, Jason.  Sam!  What are you doing on the line? 
You're supposed to be asleep.

Sam:  The phone rang.  I answered it.

Jason:  How're you feeling, Sam?

Sam:  I'm doin' all right, Beth here's a little cranky.

Beth:  SAM!

Sam:  Ok, ok.  Talk to you later, Jason.

Beth heard the receiver click off.

Beth:  Jason?  You still there?

Jason:  Yeah.  Got your hands full?

Beth:  You don't EVEN want to know.  What's up?

Jason:  I just wanted to tell you it may be late today before I can
fax you those xeroxes of the menu.  We have several catering jobs
today, and a couple of people called in sick.  It's a madhouse over
here.

Beth:  That's ok.  I'm pretty much caught up on business stuff. 
Thought I'd sit here today and write for myself.

Jason:  Good!  Just thought I'd let you know not to expect the fax any
time soon.

Beth:  Ok.  I probably won't start on that page till tomorrow anyway.
I need to get some graphics for it.

Jason:  Ok.  Look, gotta go.  Tell Sam that Lynda and I said hi and
get healthy!

Beth:  Will do.  Talk to ya later.

Beth hung up the phone and then headed for the bedroom.  Sam was
reading the newspaper that she had brought him with his breakfast.  He
looked up and smiled when she entered the room.

Sam:  Hi, hon.

Beth immediately dropped to her knees and crawled under the bed.

Sam:  Baby?

Beth stood back up and pulled the now-disconnected phone cord out and
wrapped it around the telephone.  She looked at Sam and sighed heavily.

Beth:  Need anything while I'm here?

Sam:  Uh, no.  I'm fine.

Beth:  Good.  Get some sleep.

And with that, she left the bedroom, telephone under her arm.  It took
a moment to get back into the frame of mind for the script, but
finally she was underway again.  For about thirty minutes.  Then she
heard some sort of fumbling in the living room.  She got up to
investigate.

Beth:  Samuel Philip Gerard!!!

Sam cringed.  He was trying to keep about four videotapes under
control.  He had already lost a couple to the floor.

Sam:  Yes?

Beth:  You are supposed to keep your weight off that!

Sam:  Whatta ya think they gave me crutches for?!

Beth grabbed the videotapes out of his hands and pointed back down
the hallway.

Beth:  Go!

Sam:  You know, you've completely lost your sense of humor.

Beth:  GO!

Sam hobbled back to the bedroom with Beth bringing up the rear. 
After she got him settled again, she cleared out the breakfast dishes
and the newspaper, brought him a couple of bottled waters, and put the
remote control within arm's reach.

Beth:  When you're ready for the tapes, call me and I'll pop them in
the VCR.  Stop hopping up and down and get some sleep!

Sam gave her his most innocent smile.

Sam:  Ok.

Beth:  Yeah.  Right.

She returned to the office and flopped down into her chair.  The
script stared at her blankly from the monitor.  She shook her head and
tried to remember where she left off.  When the phone rang.  She
answered it with more than a little annoyance.

Beth:  Yes?

Deb:  Dare I ask?

Beth:  I'll give you one guess.  You've got three seconds.

Deb:  Our patient doesn't have much patience?

Beth:  Patience?!  From the man who starts drumming his fingers on
the movie seat-back five minutes into the film?!

Deb:  Well, I hate to add to your list of annoyances, but I just
called to warn you.

Beth:  NOW what?

Deb:  Billy's been on the phone half the night conducting God knows
what kind of business.  Anyway, I overheard him give out your phone
number.

Beth:  What?!

Deb:  I don't think he's really expecting anyone to call you.  I think
he just wanted to give out a phone number that with a little
investigation would be revealed as belonging to a US Marshal and maybe
make someone nervous.

Beth:  He's got someone nervous right now!!

Deb:  Well, just be sure to check your caller i.d. before you answer.

Beth:  Tell him I'll get him for this.

Deb:  I'll pass your threat along.

Beth:  Talk to ya later.

Beth hung up and then stared at the telephone for awhile.  When she
was convinced that it wasn't going to jump off the desk at her, she
returned to staring at the monitor.  She didn't know for how long. 
Every once in a while, she would type a line or two.  The silence was
broken by an incoming fax.  She picked up the first page to see if it
was finally the restaurant menu coming through.  She returned it to
the tray when she saw the familiar US Marshal seal at the top.  She
checked her watch and counted down a few seconds.  The phone rang. 
Right on schedule.

Beth:  What?

Cosmo:  And a cheery good morning to you!  My fax coming in?

Beth:  Yup.

Cosmo:  How's the Big Dog?

Beth:  A holy terror.

Cosmo:  Better you than me, sweetheart.

Beth:  You're a prince among men, Cosmo.

Cosmo:  The deputy previously known as.  Tell Sammy there's no rush on
that file.  I just wanted him to take a look at a few things.

Beth:  Okey dokey.

Cosmo:  Keep smilin', kid.

With that, he hung up and Beth waited for the rest of the fax to come
through.  When it was done she gathered it up and carried it to the
bedroom where she knew Sam would NOT be sleeping.

Sam:  Who was that?

Beth handed Sam the file.

Beth:  Cosmo.  He says no rush.  He just wanted you to take a look.

Sam:  Ok.

He took the papers from her.  

Sam:  How's the writing going?

Beth's only answer was some sort of odd gutteral noise.  She turned
and stalked out of the room.

Sam:  What'd I say?

As she entered the office again, she blindly picked up the ringing
telephone as she dropped into her chair.

Beth:  Hello!!

Caller:  Il est temps.

Beth:  What?!

Caller:  Qui est ceci?

Beth looked over at the caller i.d.  The signal was so scrambled that
the display was showing geometric gibberish.

Caller:  Où est William?

Beth:  No comprendo, Frenchie!

She slammed the receiver back on its cradle and with slightly less
force her head onto the keyboard.  She sat there for a while
contemplating the "B" key.  Finally she sat up, deleted several pages
of random letters courtesy of her forehead, and then read over what
was already there in an attempt to launch herself back into the story.
With the clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen, she launched
herself out of the chair instead.

She quietly approached the kitchen doorway to see Sam putting several
items back into a cabinet.

Beth:  Samuel Philip Gerard!  What are you doing?!

Sam:  Putting these back after I knocked them out reaching for a glass.

Beth:  That is NOT what I meant, and YOU know it.

Sam:  Uh . . . lunch?

Beth pointed toward the doorway.

Beth:  Out.

Sam:  You know, you need to relax.

Beth:  OUT!

Sam did his best to muffle a chuckle as he hobbled out of the kitchen.
Beth finished putting the pans away and then got to work on lunch. 
Her concentration was still on cooking when she answered the ringing
phone.

Caller2:  It's Gustav.

Beth:  And I'm sure your mother is very happy for you.

Caller2:  What?  Who is this?  Where is Strannix?

Beth:  Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Gus, but Bill shaved his
head and joined the Hare Krishas.  Maybe you'll see him next time
you're at the airport.

She hung up on the sputtering Gustav and continued with the noon meal.
With some insistence on Sam's part, she slipped into bed with him
while they both ate.  Sam reading his file from Cosmo and Beth
watching a little light television.  When they finished, she cleared
out the dishes, gave strict orders to Sam to take a nap which he said
he would get to, and then cleaned up the kitchen.  She trudged back
into the office, plopped in the chair, stared at the screen for a
moment, then minimized the window and played Solitaire for awhile. 
Finally she found the strength to go back to the script.  Slowly she
started to type, and finally she found a flow.  The flow came to an
abrupt end when she heard some sort of muffled noises in the utility
room.  She rose, zombie-like, and ambled to the back of the house. 
She found Sam, leaned up against the dryer, folding underwear.

Beth:  Samuel . . . !

Sam:  Philip Gerard!  I know, I know.

Beth:  WHAT are you DOING?!

Sam:  Needed socks.  None in the drawer.  Knew you did laundry last
night.  Came in here.  Thought I'd fold everything while I was here.

Beth:  You're trying to "Gaslight" me, aren't you?

Sam smiled.

Sam:  No, baby.

Beth pointed tiredly at the doorway.

Sam:  I know, I know.  Out!

Beth:  If you insist on folding them, I'll bring the laundry basket
into the bedroom.  If you'll only take time to get some SLEEP!

They returned to the bedroom.  Sam gathered up his papers and put them
on the night stand.  Beth got him situated in the bed before putting
the laundry basket next to him.  Sam reached out to put a hand on the
small of her back and pulled her to him.

Sam:  You know, baby, you should get some rest.  You look beat.

Beth thudded her forehead against the top of Sam's head, this time
making a louder gutteral noise.  Sam laughed.

Sam:  You sound like an ol' bear, Doo.

The phone rang before she could return the quip.  She threw her hands
helplessly up in the air, shook her head, and returned to the office. 
She grabbed the receiver on her slow crash into the chair.

Beth:  Betty's Bra Factory, we fix flats.

Deb:  Oh God, you've finally snapped.

Beth:  Only in mind, body, and spirit.

Deb:  Sam still running you ragged?

Beth:  You know, I truly believe if we had broken shingles, he'd be
up on the roof right now fixing them.

Deb:  It DOES seem to take a lot to slow him down.

Beth:  Right now, the only thing keeping him alive is the fact that
he's a US Marshal.  If I killed him, I'd have feds all over me.

Deb:  I guess I won't ask how the rest of your day has been.

Beth:  If I could just toss him back in bed every time he got loose,
it wouldn't be so bad.  But he's too damn big.  Only thing I can do is
block his path and herd him back to the bedroom.  I feel like a damn
cow dog.  THEN add to that, this ringing phone from hell, and I've
come up with exactly two -- count 'em -- TWO pages of dialogue all day
long!!!

Deb:  Sorry.  Especially about the phone calls.  Anything I can do to
help?

Beth:  Got any large quantities of Percodan?

Deb:  What if I just come over tomorrow and give you a hand with the
housework?

Beth:  Ok, that'll work, too.

Deb:  All right then, kiddo, I'll see ya tomorrow.

Beth:  Ok.
She hung up the phone once again.  She contemplated the computer in
front of her.  She glanced at her watch.  It was almost time to start
dinner.  She thought for a moment, almost ready to come to a decision,
when . . . the phone rang.  Beth started to shut down the software
program.  She gave a quick look at the caller i.d. unit as she picked
up the phone.  Another scrambled display.

Beth:  Holy Sisters of the Caprock.  Sister Mary Ignatius speaking.

Caller3:  What?

Beth:  To whom am I speaking?

Caller3:  E . . . Escobar.

Beth:  God bless you, Escobar.  How may I help you today?

Caller3:  I . . . I think I have the wrong number.

Beth:  You were expecting Bill perhaps?

Caller3:  Is . . . is Bill there?

Beth:  No, Bill has answered his calling and joined the Brothers of
San Saba monastery.

Caller3:  What?!

Beth:  Now what about you, Escobar?  Isn't it time you gave up your
life of terrorism?

Caller3:  Dios mio!

Beth:  Repent now and save your soul, Escobar.

Caller3:  O mi dios, estoy apesadumbrado y pido el perdón todos mis
pecados!

Beth hung up the phone in the middle of Escobar's Act of Contrition. 
She finished shutting down the computer, picked up the extra phone,
and headed back to the bedroom.  Sam looked up from reading.

Sam:  Hi, hon.

Beth dropped to the floor again, plugged the phone back in, and
returned it to the nightstand.  She moved the  laundry basket full of
neatly folded clothes to the floor and dropped into bed beside Sam,
mindful of his injured leg.  She rested her head against his shoulder.

Sam:  You have a hard day, baby?

She nodded her head, and Sam slipped his arm around her and pulled her
in close.  She laid her head against his chest.

Beth:  Did you get some sleep?

Sam:  I told you, I feel fine.  I don't need to be sleeping all day.

Beth:  Doctor said . . . you should get plenty of rest . . . keep
your strength up.

Sam:  My strength's fine.  I don't know about yours, though.

Sam didn't get a response.  Beth had already drifted off to sleep. 
He chuckled softly, kissed the top of her head, and picked up Cosmo's
fax again.  At least someone in the family was getting some sleep.


TO BE CONTINUED...

Beth - 1998.