Grand Delusions


First Date Aired: on Jan. 14, 1997
Written by: ?
Directed by: ?
Transcribed by: Celtic Air

Disclaimer: I don't own the story or any of the characters from "Cupid". They belong to somebody else, probably Rob Thomas. This is a straightforward and dry transcript of the episode "Grand Delusions". It also includes descriptions of the settings, action scenes, and camera movements where I felt they were needed. I hope I got all the dialogue correct, but if I missed something just tell me and I'll make changes that are necessary.

~~~~~~~~~~ Prologue ~~~~~~~~~~

(Claire and Jaclyn are sitting at the bar in Taggertyís. Trevor is working over at the other end of the bar.)

Claire: By the time I was 7, I could tell the difference between a Holiday Inn and a Howard Johnsonís just by the smell.

Jacyln: They smell different?

Claire: Oh yeah.

Trevor: (coming over to the two woman) What smells different?

Jacyln: Dr. Allen can smell the difference between hotels because of her dad.

Trevor: Oh, your dadís a bellhop?

Claire: Jazz guitarist.

Trevor: (not really impressed) Oh.

Jacyln: Itís hard to impress a guy whose father established the reign of Greek gods and pulled his sister from his head.

Claire: Oh, boning up on your mythology are we?

(Jacyln nods and smiles)

Trevor: Zeus was my grandfather, Mars was my father, the god of war.

(A Customer comes up to the bar)

Customer: (to Trevor) Hey, Buddy, Whereís my Alabama Slammer?

Trevor: uh, somewhere south of mobile. I donít know.

Claire: (telling Trevor how to make an Alabama Slammer) Uh, 1/4 ounce vodka, 1/2 ounce Southern Comfort, 1/4 Ammaretto and a teensy splash of Grand Mariner.

Trevor: (to Claire) Wow. Howíd you know that?

(Trevor makes the drink, hands it to the customer and the customer leaves)

Claire: Jazz guitarist, bars, daughter of a Jazz guitarist.

Trevor: (takes out a book about how to make different types of drinks) Flaming flamingo.

Claire: Grenadine, Creme de Menthe, uh Cointreau, Cognac.

Trevor: Thatís beginnerís luck. Slippery Nipple.

Claire: Anisette, Peppermint Schnapps, and Baileyís.

Trevor: See, now that was a yes or no question.

Claire: Ah.

Jacyln: (to Claire) When will your father be in town?

Claire: Tomorrow.

Trevor: (To Claire) Sex on the beach?

Claire: (sarcastically) Not tonight, thanks. (takes a sip of her drink)

Trevor: Iím back to quizzing you on exotic cocktails.

Claire: (sarcastically) Forgive me.

Jacyln: (To Claire) Is he famous?

Claire: Well, other players know him, but he never really hit it big.

Jacyln: Was your mom, like, some rabid jazz fan who fell in love with him through his music?

Claire: Well, uh, she made him choose between us and his guitar when I was 13. The guitar won.

Jacyln: Oh, Iím so sorry.

Claire: (shakes her head) Oh, no, no. Heís a great dad. He--he could write all the time, spent a fortune on long distance phone calls, he sent me gifts from around the world, you know, It was kinda neat, actually. (sighs) One thing Iíve always known, my father loves me.

(A man who thinks heís Don Quixote comes up to the bar, and tips his hat to Claire and Jacyln)

Don: (to Trevor) A tankard of ale my good man.

Trevor: (To Don) Egad, Forsooth. Would you like that libation with a mead chaser?

(Another customer comes up to the bar, heís wearing a baseball cap.)

Customer: (to Trevor) Pitcher of margaritas there, Sport.

Don: (to the other customer) It is customary to doff oneís hat in the presence of beautiful woman. (Jacyln and Claire smile)

(The customer takes off his baseball cap and then puts it back on, before leaving the bar confused)

Claire: Iím surprised he knew what Ďdoffí meant.

Don: It is a graceless age.

Trevor: El margarito magnificio, Tequilo horrificio, del wormo disgustido. (Claire and Jacyln laugh at him)

Don: (grabbing Trevorís shoulders) Sancho?

Trevor: You got me on that one. Is that a Tom Collins made with Tequila? (looks at Claire, who gestures that she doesnít know)

Don: Sancho, is it really you my friend?

Trevor: Ha. Ha.

Don: (lets go of Trevor and stands up straight) You look good. Have you lost weight?

Trevor: Yes, Iíve been cutting down on the carbs. Uh...

(Don Quixote kisses Trevor on the right cheeck and then on his left)

Don: Ha, ha ha.

Trevor: Look at that. Ha. Ha. (wipes off his cheeks with a towel) Look at delightful as that just was, I think thereís some kind of horrific misunderstanding going on right here.

Don: Sancho. (laughs) My long time companion.

Trevor: Oh, I get it. Youíre in the wrong bar, snacktime. Youíre looking for Rump-Rangers, right down the street.

Jacyln: Oh, I know this story.

Don: Are you drunk, Sancho?

Trevor: By no means.

Don: Have your senses been scrambled by the evil Turks? I am your master.

Trevor: Really? You are? How nice for you.

Jacyln: Iíve got it. Heís man of La Macha.

Claire: Don Quixote.

(Don Quixote looks at the woman and makes introductions)

Trevor: Don Quixote, who is the inventor of Quixotic, which is actually once taco short of a combination platter.

Don: (kisses Jaclynís hand) I am dazzled by your ladyís beauty.

(Over at the other end of Taggertyís, Don spots a woman struggling with a man)

Woman: Knock it off! All right, itís been fun, but itís time for you to just back off!

Man: One more twirl around the floor.

(Don Q. walks over to the man)

Trevor: (Calling over to Don) This is not 16th century Spain, and Iím not your poncho.

Claire: (sarcastically) Of course not, your Cupid, the god of love.

(Camera pans over to the Man and woman)

(Don Q. holds up an umbrella to the man)

Don: I am Don Quixote, knight errant.

Man: Get lost. Get Lost!

(Trevor walks over to the scene)

Don: Release her buttocks or you will feel my prick.

Trevor: (to Don) See, now, that kind of talk will just cause a guy to swing at you. (He turns towards the man and gets punched in the face. He starts to fall towards the floor but Don catches him)

Don: Sancho?

~~~~~~~~~~ Part 1 ~~~~~~~~~~

(Cut to Claireís office. Don is pacing, while Claire is sitting behind her desk)

Don: Thank you for getting me out of that dungeon.

Claire: It was a psychiatricís ward.

Don: It was a foul dungeon, in which they tried to make me recant. They were unsuccessful. (point to a picture on Claireís shelf) Who is this noble fellow?

Claire: Uh, thatís my father.

Don: (picks up the picture and inspects it. In the picture, Claire is sitting next to her father who is holding a guitar) Is he a musician?

Claire: Yes, but letís stick with you, okay? Do you remember any particular traumatic childhood experiences?

Don: (ignoring her question) Are all these titles yours?

Claire: (nods) Theyíre degrees.

Don: Are you exalted enough to knight me?

Claire: Why is being made a knight so important to you?

Don: It is part of my quest. (sits down)

Claire: Which quest?

Don: I dream the impossible dream. I run where the brave dare not follow. I fight for the right--

Claire: I actually know the rest.

Don: No matter how hard. That is my quest.

Claire: Don Quixote was a fictional character in a novel written by Miguel Cervantes in the 17th century.

Don: Many men sing my praises. A knight ignores all who flatter him.

Claire: This isnít a feudal empire ruled by tyrants. The age of chivalry is behind us.

Don: Chivalry is a code of honor and of high devotion. It may fade, but it can never die.

(Claire gestures for Don to wait a minute, and then leaves her office and shuts the door. Then she walks over to Jaclynís desk.)

Claire: Jaclyn, uh, as soon as Trevor gets here could you send him in?

Jaclyn: Yes.

Claire: Thanks. (Nods and turns towards her office)

Jaclyn: Um, Dr. Allen?

Claire: (faces Jaclyn again) Yeah.

Jaclyn: How can a guy who thinks heís Cupid help a guy who thinks heís Don Quixote?

Claire: Well, when setting up a oppugnatory dissonance between the perceived ego and a second contingent modulatory ego, I hope the core delusion will fade. (Jaclyn gives her a confused look) Ok. The man who thinks heís Don Quixote, think the man who thinks heís Cupid is Sancho Panza, now if the man who thinks heís Don Quixote can be made to think that the guy who thinks heís cupid is not Sancho Panza, maybe heíll stop thinking heís Don Quixote.

Jaclyn: Oh..

Claire: Did my father call, by any chance?

Jaclyn: Um, not yet, but I like your jacket. Itís very fancy pancy.

Claire: Oh, this old thing? Just bought it. Thank you.

Trevor: (suddenly comes up to Jaclynís desk) The incredible edible jacket.

Jaclyn: Oh, (laughs) Thank you. Um, you have a black eye.

Trevor: Yeah. Occupational Hazard. There is a new lab technician on the second floor. Ignore the fact that his name is Melvin.

Jaclyn: I probably think I need somebody wilder, crazy even.

Trevor: Well, be careful what you wish for, you know what Iím saying? If you want to hunt the big game you need a big gun.

Jaclyn: I have a BB gun.

Trevor: You do?

Jaclyn: Yeah.

(They laugh)

Claire: (trying to get Trevorís attention) Excuse me. Excuse me, guys. hey, hey, hey Trevor. (he finally looks at her) I need your help.

Trevor: Really? Ok. Lose the suit then. You might want to go for something softer, leopard print. You want to show a little bit of--

(Don opens the door to Dr. Allenís office)

Don: Sancho! Sing away sorrow, cast away care. (walks over to Trevor)

Trevor: No, No, No, No kisses, no kisses. (Don kisses Trevorís cheeks) Enough of the kisses. Look at the kisses.

Don: (laughs) Dear Sancho.

Trevor: (wipes off his cheeks with his jacket) Yeah.

Don: My goodness, you keep getting thinner and thinner. (sits down in a chair)

Trevor: Canít help it.

Don: Ah. (lifts up his foot) Remove my boots.

Trevor: What?

Don: Do your duty, attend your master.

(Trevor quickly walks away with Claire following him)

Claire: Trevor, Trevor...Trevor (she grabs him and accidentally pushes him into a wall.)

Trevor: Ow!

Claire: Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Look, Trevor if you could just convince Don Quixote there---

Trevor: Heís not Don Quixote. Heís a nut.

Claire: Ok, whatever he is if you could just convince him that youíre not Sancho Panza, ok?

Trevor: I donít have time to convince people, Iím people Iím not. I have a hard enough time trying to convince you I am who I am.

Claire: Look, the thing is, I donít want to commit him. Ok, we found him a bed in a shelter, heís no danger to society.

Trevor: (points to his black eye) Iím not society?

Claire: Trevor, he has a better chance of recovering if heís out there in the real world which constantly challenges his delusions.

Trevor: Ok, if youíre trying to draw a parallel to me and Donny Q., ok, itís going way over my head.

Claire: Oh, thereís a parallel, Trevor. Look if this guy doesnít get better maybe the hospital board will rethink the wisdom of letting one of my other delusional patients run around free. (Trevor nods sarcastically) Oh, yeah. Oh yeah, Iím talking about you.

Trevor: Ok, look it would take me 5 minutes to convince those knobs that I am streetworthy, all right? Iíve done it before, Iíll do it again.

(Jaclyn and Don walk over to Claire and Trevor)

Jaclyn: Excuse me, Dr. Allen, he would like one word.

Don: Sancho, impertinent squire.

Claire: (looks at Trevor) Look, if you could just spend a few minutes with him, ok?

Trevor: Ok, but, you know what --

Don: Friend Iíve been lonely without your cheerful companionship.

Claire: Just convince him that you arenít Sancho Panza.

Trevor: You know what-- (Claire doesnít wait for him to finish before she starts walking back to her office)

Jaclyn: (walking back to her desk) See you later, Trevor.

Don: I need a bath, Sancho.

Trevor: Who doesnít?

Don: Make the water hot, lather my back.

Trevor: You know what? I hereby resign as your cabana boy, okay? (He starts to walk away)

Don: Please, Sancho, I need you help. How else am I to find my true love? (Trevor stops in his tracks) I need your help.

Trevor: Excuse me, did you just say true love?

Don: (walks over to him) Somewhere in the labyrinth of this city is a woman who virtue and simple tenderness will set my world right. I will not be complete without her.

Trevor: Now thereís a mission statement.

Don: I seek my fair Dulcinea, and you are the only man to help me.

Trevor: Thatís a fact. Itís kind of like my calling in life. (Don kisses him on the cheek) You did that again, didnít you?

(Cut to Champís apartment. Champ is meditating as Trevor and Don walk in)

Don: Before meeting my Dulcinea, I must be made a full knight. By a king, preferably in a castle.

Trevor: uh, oh, King, Don. Uh, Don, (introduces Champ) this is King. (Champ looks at him) Ladies and Gentlemen, Don King.

Don: (bows in front of Champ) Kind Don King. Are you a great power amongst the Moors?

Champ: I prefer the term ďAfrican AmericanĒ. (Looks at Trevor again, wanting to know whatís going on) Trevor?

Trevor: Yeah, uh, Don, Why donít you take a look around the castle and I will arrange your knighthood. (Don walks away.) Ok, short version, this guyís a nutbag, ok? He thinks heís Don Quixote, and he wants me to help him find his Dulcinea, but first he has to be knighted.

Champ: What? What are you guys some cuckoo dynamic duo? Cupid and Don Quixote team up to fight crime? (walks to the kitchen sink)

Trevor: He thinks Iím Sancho Panza, his trusty footman. Do you have any idea how aggravating that can be?

Champ: Yeah, some.

Trevor: I just need for you to knight him, then we go off and get him a date. I need an easy win.

Champ: Absolutely not, and I want you to stop bringing your crazy friends around the house. (to Don) Careful, thatís my Tony. (Don hands over the Tony award to Champ)

Don: Forgive my earlier doubts, you must be a most excellent King to have garnered such a prize.

Champ: Well, itís only a student Tony but...

(A while later, in the apartment, there are a lot of burning candles set up. Champ is sitting in a chair, holding his Tony award and wearing a makeshift crown and Robe)

Don: (kneeling before Champ) My Lord. Sancho, fetch my robe. (Trevor goes through a dresser trying to find a robe) You are too slow. Do not force me to take my fist to you.

Champ: Thatís right. Thou scallion and villain, attend your master.

Trevor: A scallion is a small onion... Sire.

Don: As are you, Sancho. (Trevor gives Don Q. his robe) I am ready, thou ebony sovereign potentate of the dusky Moors.

Champ: Mindful of your prowess on the fields, we are minded to make you a knight. Dost thou swear fealty?

Don: I so swear to be ever be true, reverent, generous, and always be courteous.

Champ: In remembrance of oaths given and received (takes a sword and touches Donís left shoulder) I dub thee, Sir Don Quixote. (touches Donís right shoulder with the sword) Lord of la Mancha ( touches Donís left shoulder again with the sword)

(Don stands up and smiles while Trevor plays a trumpet off-key)

(Cut to Clairesí office. Sheís sitting at her desk, while he father, Bill Allen, opens the office door and walks in)

Bill: Excuse me, if this where I go to get my head shrunken?

Claire: (stands up) Actually, I think you want the witch doctor, down the hall. Just stop when you hear the chickens squawking.

Bill: Well, is the witch doctor as cute as you?

Claire: Of course not. (walks over to him) Come here. How are you dad? (gives him a hug)

Bill: Oh, itís so good to see you.

Claire: Yeah. Hey, can I make ya a dinner tonight?

Bill: Will your sweetheart be joining us?

Claire: No, actually, Alex got a job in New York, so...

Bill: Well, good, Iíve got you all to myself. And Iíve got some news about how long Iíll be staying in Chicago.

Claire: Did you get a long-term gig here in town or something?

Bill: We shall talk about it at dinner, ok?

Claire: Wait a minute, youíre gonna stay with me, arenít you? Please?

Bill: Honey, I can get a hotel room.

Claire: No, you canít. Dad, we never spend time together. Please, please, please.

Bill: If youíre gonna play tricky psychological head games on me..ok.

Claire: Good. Ok, you can leave your bag here. Take your guitar, and um about 8:00 for dinner?

Bill: 8:00. See you then, Honey.

Claire: (kisses him goodbye) Ok, Bye. Ok.

(Claireís Father leaves the office and Jaclyn walks over to Claireís office door)

Jaclyn: Um, Dr. Allen...

Claire: Yeah.

Jaclyn: Youíre dadís a hottie.

(Cut to a city street. Trevor is pointing out women and Don is slurping on a drink)

Trevor: her? (pointing)

Don: Uh-uh

Trevor: her? (pointing to a blond lady)

Don: Uh-uh

Trevor: her, right there (pointing)

Don: Uh-uh.

Trevor: her? (points to a black woman)

Don: Uh-uh.

Trevor: her? (point to another lady)

Don Uh-uh.

Trevor: Her? (points to a guy in drag)

Don: (raises his eyebrows) uh-uh.

Trevor: All right, we need a prototype here. Tall, short, fat, skinny, old, young, human troglodyte. What hoists thee old rod of crotchet? What sharpens the saber?

Don: Shush, Sancho.

Trevor: What corks the bat?

Don: Silence!

(Trevor looks at him, While Don goes back to slurping on his drink)

Trevor: Does this chivalric code say something about slurping?

Don: Everyone must know his place: I am a great knight, you are a wretched dogís body.

Trevor: (nods) Thank you.

(Don looks to the street where a woman almost gets hit by a car, this is the woman Don believes is Dulcinea)

Dulcinea: Whoa! watch it. Iím walking here!

Driver of the car: Hey watch it!

Dulcinea: What are you blind? (moves out of the way of the car) after you.

Don: (about the woman) Dulcinea.

Dulcinea: (to the driver of the car, while the car is driving away) Love ya too.

Don: My Dulcinea.

(The woman meets someone named Jimmy on the sidewalk and they argue)

Jimmy: What are you doing?

Dulcinea: What do you mean, what am I doing? Iím walking.

Jimmy: You were due here at 11:00.

Dulcinea: So what?

Trevor: (looking over to the woman Don pointed out)Are you certain?

Don: The grace, the purity...the innocence, how can you doubt me Sancho?

(Trevor nods)

~~~~~~~~~~ Part 2 ~~~~~~~~~

(Don Quixote is walking down the street, trying to catch up with his Dulcinea, while Trevor is following and trying to get Don to stop)

Trevor: No, No, hold on

Don: Dulcinea, wait my love.

(A few feet ahead of them ĎDulcineaí and Jimmy are still arguing, they walk into an alley)

Dulcinea: Thatís a big word, Jimmy.

(camera pans back over to Don who is trying to catch up with his ĎDulcineaí)

Don: Dulcinea, wait.

Trevor: You canít just yell things at women on the streets.

Don: A dangerous alley, a thug, a defenseless virgin.

Trevor: Hold on, how about this: It is unseemly for a knight to approach his lady unannounced.

Don: (stops) ĎTis true. I have forgotten myself.

Trevor: Ok, so Iíll tell you what. Iíll make the initial move, alright?

Don: Indeed. And shower her with gifts.

Trevor: (confused) Shower her with gifts.... (Don hands him some junk from his coat pocket) Look at that. Thatís gonna knock her off her feet.

Don: And remember to speak to her in a poetic, lofty voice. Not in the rustic grunts of your peasant forbears.

Trevor: Alright, Iím gonna go over there and talk to her. You wait here. Donít talk to anyone.

(Trevor walks over to the alley, where there is a back stage door to a strip club. He tries to open it but itís locked, so he knocks on it. Jimmy answers it)

Trevor: Hey, that woman you were with, did she come in here by any chance?

Jimmy: Front door. Get lost, chucklehead. (shoves Trevor back into the alley)

Trevor: (landing with a crash in the alley) Ow. Ow. Thanks.

(Cut to the inside of the strip club.)

Trevor: (looks around the strip club) Man, this place is worse than Platoís retreat. Iím talking the original.

Don: Where did my love agree to meet you?

Trevor: Uh, well, letís--

Stripper: (to Trevor) Hi.

Trevor: (to the Stripper) Hello. (continues walking, leads Don to a table) Why donít you come over here and imbibe a frosty tankard of ale? And I will take care of everything, Ok.

(Don Quixote sits down at the table, and Trevor walks around the club)

Announcer: (over speaker) And now a special treat. In an exclusive engagement, Sultry Miss Mona Lovesong.

(there are various hoots and whistles from the people in the club as a stripper comes on stage.)

Don: (stands up, trying to get Trevorís attention) Sancho. Sancho!

Worker: (pushes Don back into his seat) Sit down, Bozo.

(Trevor looks over to Don who is pointing up at the stage, to Miss Mona Lovesong, who is the woman he thinks is Dulcinea. Trevor nods back at Don and then walks over to the stage)

Trevor: Excuse me, Miss Lovesong, is it? Can we chat?

Worker: You wanna chat, letís see some green.

Trevor: (takes out some money and puts it in the stripperís g-string) My friend, sitting right over there, loves you. (points to Don) Heís in love with you.

Dulcinea: (uninterested) Isnít that sweet. (Continues dancing)

Trevor: No, seriously, heís not like the rest of the stiffs here, no pun intended. Weíre talking split-level ranch house, golden retriever puppy, minivan in the driveway. Make you a real hearty soup, that kind of a thing.

(Dulcinea tries to ignore Trevor, as she dances closely to another customer)

Trevor: (to the customer) Hey, man, you remember me? I host Tuesday Night Fondue club with your wife. (the customer gets up and leaves) You do have a nice job there. Why donít we just cut to the chase, Ok? You donít seem like one of those Iím-an-artistic-exotic-dancer types. What is it going to take for you to be with my friend, all right? I know the game, why donít we talk presidents here? (takes out his wallet) Jackson, Jefferson, Grant, the whole situation. (Dulcinea goes over to a pole and starts to dance around it) Iíve got uh-- Iíve got four lincolns here.

(While swinging around the pole Dulcinea kicks Trevor in the head and he falls down.)

(Cut to Claireís house.Claire and her father are sitting at her dining room table)

Claire: I got it. Youíre getting married again.

Bill: What ? (laughs) No, Negative, negative. (stands up and walks around the dining room) No, after 3? uh-uh, weddings are just sad.

Claire: Youíre getting back together with mom?

Bill: Well, not that I wouldnít jump at the chance, but donít you think that Wilson--

Claire: (corrects him) Nelson--

Bill: Would object to someone else marrying his wife?

Claire: I donít know. Nelsonís a pretty big jazz fan.

Bill: Oh, yeah, I know. He loves Guy Lombardo.

Claire: (gets up and walks over to her living room) All right, look dad. Weíve had dinner, weíve had dessert, Weíve had coffee. You still havenít told me your big news. Give it up Pops, huh? (sits on the living room couch)

Bill: Sweet Sorrow.

Claire: Yeah.

Bill: Theyíre offering me a gig.

Claire: That New Orleansí label?

Bill: Yeah, but no, Itís not a gig, really. Iíd be signing new talent out of the clubs, you know, putting artists together with the producers. Itís a straight job.

Claire: Well, thatís wonderful.

Bill: Well, the uh, wonderful part about it is that they want me to be based in Chicago.

Claire: Wait a minute. So youíd-- youíd live here?

Bill: But, you know, I hear that Ellis Marsalis is looking for a guitar player. Itíd mean a world tour.

Claire: You know, Dad, You can stay here until we find you a place of your own.

Bill: Yeah, well, Iím thinking (sits down on the couch next to Claire) This job would give us a chance to make up for...

Claire: (smiles) You are gonna love Chicago, Dad. And Sweet Sorrowís a really good label.

Bill: I know, itís the finest. Itís hip, itís hot, itís happening.

Claire: Just like my dad.

Bill: Yeah.

(Cut to the alley outside of the strip club. Trevor is sitting on the sidewalk, holding an ice pack to his face. Don is standing in the middle of the alley)

Don: Did you tell her of the years I spent searching for her? Of my honorable heart? Of the great deeds of my past?

Trevor: We tried to talk history. We only got as far as the Lincoln administration. Listen, weíll continue our search again tomorrow.

Don: We most certainly will not. Dulcineaís here. Our search is complete.

Trevor: You know, itís my understanding that most of these stripp-- dancers, are lesbian.

Don: I do not care from which far-off island she hails. She is my one heart.

Trevor: Youíre gonna freeze out here, Donny.

Don: (walks over to Trevor) Ahh, my love will keep me warm. (Pats Trevor on his back) Be off with you, Sancho, good servant. I shall stand vigil alone.

Trevor: (gets up) Think about it. Come here. (walks over to a poster of an advertisement for Miss Mona Lovesong and the strip club) Does this look like your woman of virtue and simple tenderness?

Don: You know what the problem with the world is today?

Trevor: Mostly that Iím living in it. (puts the ice pack to his face)

Don: Everyone sees only what is there. No one sees what could be. No one believes anymore. (Trevor nods. Then ĎDulcineaí walks out the stage door of the strip club) Fair lady, a moment (he takes off his hat)

Dulcinea: Ok, now back off. Iíve got mace and worse in here. (walks away)

Trevor: (following her) Wait, one second, he just wants to talk with you.

Dulcinea: Look, look, look, Iíll be on stage 11 oíclock tomorrow morning. You bring your 10 bucks you get a little jiggle with your chat. (walks away)

Don: Weíll be there tomorrow morning and every other morning with our 10 bucks. You dance like foam on the sea, like sun after rain, like morning after night, like love after loneliness. Like an angel.

(ĎDulcineaí smiles and walks back to them.)

Dulcinea: (To Trevor, about Don) Heís a lot nicer than you.

Don: If my manservant was rude to you, say the word and I shall beat him.

Trevor: How about I just say Iím sorry?

Dulcinea: Iíd go for the beating.

(Don takes the handle of his umbrella and jab it into Trevorís nuts)

Trevor: (bending over) Ow!

Don: (while Dulcinea is laughing) I put no sting in it Sancho, count yourself lucky. (to Dulcinea) We shall accompany you to your villa. (holds out his arm)

Dulcinea: (links her arm with his and they start walking) Hah. Ok. Well, Iíve had a few men fight over me before, but thatís a first. Smacking somebody for barely Ďnuthing.

Don: I would smack the devil himself for you, Dulcinea.

Dulcinea: Whatís that? ďDulcineaĒ?

Trevor: Yeah, itís Spanish for ďSweetie PieĒ

Don: May I rhapsodize over your eyes?

Dulcinea: With most customers, I could have flaming walnuts in my eye sockets and they wouldnít notice.

Don: (stops walking and looks at her) Your voice is like honey and cream, like the golden glow on the ocean at sunset.

Dulcinea: (laughs) Look, youíre really very adorable, but I got this policy-- I donít date customers.

Trevor: May I point out--

Don: Silence, Sancho!

Trevor: Yeah. (nods and turns his back to them)

Don: I am not a customer. (takes off his hat) I am you beloved.

(Dulcinea laughs, links arm with Don again, and they continue walking)

(Cut to a town street. Claire is walking in the rain. Trevor comes up to her and shares his umbrella with her and they continue walking)

Trevor: My noodles been gnawing on something. It makes no sense.

Claire: Really? Fixating on the popularity of Irish clog dancing again?

Trevor: Jazz musicians are cool, right? Live life to the fullest. So I think that the only way that a hep cat would have such a stodgy daughter would be--

Claire: Hep cats arenít famously domestic. My parents split when I was 13, my mom raised me.

Trevor: Well, see, that makes sense, especially if your mom was a nun. Was she?

Claire: But weíre getting a second chance.

Trevor: Oh yeah?

Claire: (they reach her car, Claire beeps her alarm) My dadís been offered a job in Chicago as a talent spotter for a record company.

Trevor: Aw, thatís too bad. Putting the old guy out to pasture, huh?

Claire: Trevor, heís been on the road a long time. Heís earned this kind of reward. This is a good thing. (Trevor nods) Yeah, Iíve uh, signed him up with an apartment locator service. And I got a line for a second hand car for him. (opens her car door and gets in)

Trevor: Oh, well, what about air bags? What about insurance?

(Claire starts the carís engine)

Trevor: (knocking on the carís window.) Hello?

Claire: (opens the window) Hmm. I have a session today with the man who believes heís Don Quixote. I am hoping that you persuaded him that youíre no Sancho Panza, like I asked?

(she starts to drive away)

Trevor: Actually, itís much better. I found his Dulcinea.

(Claireís car suddenly stops, she leans out the window and looks back at him. Trevor laughs)

~~~~~~~~~~ Part 3 ~~~~~~~~~~

(Cut to Claireís office, Claire is sitting behind her desk and Trevor is standing up)

Trevor: The guy wants to find his lady love, you want me, Cupid, the god of love not to help him. Thatís just naive.

Claire: Try to follow, ok? This is not about you. He is deluded. You are the central figure is dillusion, if you can convince him that you are not the loyal servant-- then the entire dillusion will be called into question.

Trevor: (leaning on her desk) Sounds like itís a little about me. (Claire sighs) Love heals, baby, thatís a fact.

Claire: A psychologically unstable person is not equipped to form a normal, loving relationship.

Trevor: Donít tell me, tell Lisa Marie Presley.

Claire: Ok, fine, you know what? You donít want to help, great.

Trevor: Use your usual trick.

Claire: Excuse me?

Trevor: Find out his real name and spring it on him when he least expects it.

Claire: Really? You know what, Iím gonna do that, you know why?

Trevor: Why?

Claire: Because names are very powerful, you see, and just because it didnít work on you--

Trevor: No, it didnít work on me because my name is Cupid, though Iíll answer to Eros while traveling in Europe.

(Don Quixote knocks on the door and then enter)

Don: Good Morrow.

Trevor: Great morrow. Finest kind of morrow, deluxe, top-of-the-line, red-letter morrow.

(Claire gets up and then leads Trevor to the door)

Claire: Your work here is done. Why donít you go help an old lady cross the street? (she opens the office door)

Trevor: (leaving) Heís on a second date, donít screw it up.

(Claire closes the door behind Trevor)

Don: A thousand pardons, Dr. Allen, but I lost track of time. Ah, the truth is I was intoxicated.

Claire: Has alcohol been an issue for you in the past? (sits down again)

Don: Oh, not with wine, but with my sweet Dulcinea. I found her again, thanks to Sancho.

Claire: Uh, the man who just left-- his name is Trevor Hale. Heís not Sancho Panza.

Don: You are mistaken, Fair Lady.

Claire: (sighs) And this Dulcinea is the one who kicked Trevor in the head?

Don: Sancho insulted the virginís virtue.

Claire: Did she go by any other name before she answered to ĎDulcineaí?

Don: In order to dupe the Turks, she works incognito as Mona Lovesong in a merry little inn called The Cherry Orchard. She performs there. She dances upon a maypole like a fairy.

(Claire smiles)

(Cut to Champ and Trevor walking down a city street)

Trevor: So is this guru of jazzmatology gonna be able to tell me if Claireís father is a crocodile?

Champ: A what?

Trevor: Thatís what jazz musicians call other jazz musicians when theyíre really good.

Champ: Thatíd be an alligator. What do you care if heís any good.

Trevor: Claire thinks that her dadís gonna give up a life of cool jazz and hot women to become a lukewarm talent scout. If heís any kind of big lizard, it ainít gonna happen, and her heart is swamp bait.

Champ: And you got this from what, watching ĎMan with a Horní?

Trevor: My uncle is the god of music, so Iím on the inside track, you know?

Champ: So why do you need my guy?

Trevor: Uncle Apollo hates jazz.

Champ: (stopping outside of the jazz store) Mr. Clef has an encyclopedic knowledge of jazz but he can be a little oblique.

Trevor: Oracles are all the same. A straight answer from the one at Delphi? Forget about it.

Champ: Heís very serious. You gotta treat him with respect.

Trevor: Ok.

Champ: No, donít just say ĎOkí you gotta treat him with more respect-- You know what? Treat him like heís a god.

Trevor: Which god?

Champ: A big, bad, donít-mess-with-me, thunderbolt-throwiní God.

Trevor: (nods) alright.

(they enter the jazz store)

Champ: Mr. Clef?

Trevor: Hey, think they have and Backstreet Boysí albums here?

Champ: Look, you keen talkiní like that Iím gonna take you outside and toss you in the street. Mr. Clef? Mr. Clef?

(Mr. Clef comes out of the back room and kinda just slides to the counter)

Trevor: Whoa.

Champ: Mr. Clef, this is the guy I was tell you about. He has some questions about a player.

Mr. Clef: What... (takes off his sunglasses) Player?

Trevor: Uh.. Bill Allen is his name. Heís a --

Mr. Clef: Guitar player.

Trevor: (nods) Yeah.

Mr. Clef: Plays a Ď64 Epiphone Regent off a Deluxe.

Trevor: Great. Uh, did he put out any albums?

Mr. Clef: Man played with some of the best, played with them at their worst, but he played with them. Thatís a kayo, man. Thatís a gasser. (puts his sunglasses back on)

Trevor: Ok. I was hopiní for more a yes or no communi--

(Champ hit Trevor of the back of his head)

Mr. Clef: (singing) Road is all uphill (talking) but thatís where the music lives.

Trevor: (looks at Mr. Clef like heís crazy) Wow. Look at that.

Champ: Thank you, Mr. Clef.

Trevor: Thank you.

Champ: Weíre finished here.

Trevor: I donít--

Mr. Clef: (handing Trevor a record album) $50.

Trevor: Oh, no thanks, my entire collectionís on CD. (champ hits him on the back of his head again) 50. Here we go. (gives Mr. Clef a $50 bill) What a bargain. Thank you.

Champ: Come on.

(Trevor grabs the album and they walk towards the door, while Mr. Clef slides to the back room)

Trevor: See his legs? Think heís part snake?

(Cut to Champ and Trevor entering Taggertyís)

Trevor: So snake man says Bill Allen sucks, right?

Champ: I think he was saying that he was good enough to play with the best, but not good enough to be one of them.

Trevor: (looking at the record album) So, heís good.

Champ: Good enough, I think, Maybe, I-- (shrugs)

Trevor: I hate oracles.

(Champ walks into the back room while Claire walks into Taggertyís)

Claire: Trevor. (Trevor sighs and walks over to her) A prostitute?

Trevor: A stripper. Not everyone can make $150 messing with peoplesí heads.

Claire: I donít make 150 an hour.

Trevor: I wasnít talking about you.

Claire: You were playing with the emotions of a fragile man. He is not equipped to handle rejection.

Trevor: Why are you so sure heís gonna face rejection?

Claire: Do you honestly think you can find a woman who would fall in love with a man who thinks heís Don Quixote?

(Claire and Trevor look over to a man and woman who are laughing at a table in Taggertyís. Itís Don Quixote and his ĎDulcineaí. Theyíre on a date)

Trevor: Itís an ugly site, isnít it? Whores and lunatics?

Claire: How much did you pay her?

Trevor: Itís not about commerce. Itís about love.

(Claire sighs)

(Don Quixote starts singing in Spanish to his date. Trevor sways to the music and then smirks at Claire)

(Cut to Claireís house. Itís late and Claireís father is walking through the door. Claire is sitting on her couch waiting for him)

Bill: (walks into the living room, to where Claire is sitting) You waited up.

Claire: I was too excited to sleep. Did they offer you the job?

Bill: (sits on the couch next to Claire) Well, you know those jazz guys. Thereís a whole lot of improvising around the chord changes without ever going towards the melody.

Claire: I know the tendencies, yes.

Bill: Now, what they want to know is, if they offer me the job will I take it.

Claire: Oh! Good!

Bill: Just be cool. I told them I would give them an answer after I thought about it.

Claire: Oh. My dad, the cunning negotiator.

Bill: Yeah.

Claire: Hey, Iíve got some rental lists I thought we could go over. Now, Iím thinking, somewhere close by so we can have Sunday breakfasts together.

Bill: (sighs) Look, Iím -- Iím a little bushed. I really got to get a good nightís sleep, honey.

Claire: This from the man who hasnít seen daylight in 30 years.

Bill: Well, Iíve got to be sharp when I see those guys tomorrow. Practice up for the 9 to 5. (gets up and kisses his daughter goodnight)

Claire: (smiles) Oh, yeah. Good night.

Bill: See you in the morning. (starts to walk away)

Claire: Having you hereís gonna be great, Dad.

Bill: (turns towards Claire again) Itís gonna be great.

(Cut to the street outside of the strip club. Don Quixote is walking ĎDulcineaí to work)

Dulcinea: I mean, I wouldíve gone further, you know, in ballet... except my mom wouldnít pay for the shoes, and you canít get anywhere without the right shoes, you know?

Don: A crime, a sin against art.

Dulcinea: (chuckles, stops walking, and then kisses him) Youíre sweet.

Don: (smiles) You fuel my courage against a legion of dragons.

Dulcinea: Hmm. (they continue walking) So now youíre gonna fight dragons for me, huh?

Don: (stops walking and looks at her) You aspect is gentle.. your lines sublime. You are the lark at my gate. My eternal summer, my silver fountain... my lady sweet.. and sublime.

Jimmy: (walks over to the two of them, heís smoking a cigar) Sheísí none of that, dipwad.

Don: (angry) Silence, Lout.

Jimmy: Sheís a third-rate stripper in a fifth-rate joint, sheís that close to hookiní (to ĎDulcineaí) Letís go. Come on.

Don: You will rue this day, blackheart. Leprous, scabrous oaf.

Jimmy: (laughs) Nice talk. (to ĎDulcineaí) What are you gonna marry this geek?

Dulcinea: (trying to avoid a fight) No, no, heís just a customer. He doesnít mean anything to me, Jimmy. Just come on now, leave him alone. (Jimmy throws his cigar at Don just before he and Dulcinea walk into the club through the stage door) Jimmy! Jeez.

Don: (brushes off ashes and bangs on the door with his umbrella) Open, loon! You pig-assed dog. You... dog-assed pig. I shall thrash your poxy face. Open, I say.

Jimmy: (opens the door) Go away or Iím gonna hurt you.

Don: Where is my fair Dulcinea?

Jimmy: She doesnít consort with customers and she doesnít want to see you.

Don: I am Don Quixote de la Mancha. Take me to her, or we shall joust.

Jimmy: (chuckles) I was hoping youíd say that.

(They start fighting)

(Cut to Claireís office. She is sitting with a crying patient when Jaclyn opens the office door. Sheís followed by Trevor)

Jaclyn: Dr. Allen, Cupid id -- um Trevorís here to see you.

(Jaclyn leaves and Trevor walks into the office)

Claire: Iím with a patient.

Trevor: What makes the handle ďTrevor HaleĒ any better than ďCupidĒ?

Claire: (stands up) Because itís a human name instead of an answer on Classical Jeopardy. (to her patient) Iíll just be one moment, ok. (leads Trevor out of the office and closes the door behind them) I am with a patient.

Trevor: Going great too, huh? I canít find DQ.

Claire: Missing persons made a match this morning. His name is Robert Cunningham. Perhaps he spent the night with the lovely Miss Mona Lovesong?

Trevor: No way. He has this very big no-no against premarital belly bumping. Itíd do him good to get a little Canterbury tail but itís against the code.

Claire: Can you-- can you go find him please?

Trevor: Whatís wrong with Robert Cunningham by the way? Except for the fact that he thinks heís a fictional Spainard?

Claire: His wife was killed by a drunk driver.

Trevor: And that made him crack?

Claire: He was the drunk driver.

Trevor: You want to come?

Claire: Iím with a patient.

Trevor: Ok. All right.

(Trevor leaves and Claire returns to her office)

(Cut to ĎDulcineaís dressing room at the strip club. She is putting on way too much makeup. Trevor knocks on the door)

Dulcinea: Come in.

Trevor: (walks in) I hope they donít test those products on animals.

Dulcinea: Hey, Sancho. I test Ďem on animals everyday, a matinee and three shows.

Trevor: Yes, you do. Ahem. (leans against her dressing table and looks at her.)

Dulcinea: You didnít bring... Don with ya, did ya?

Trevor: I was kinda hoping you could tell me where he was.

Dulcinea: Look, I never said I was any kind of virgin. I never made no promises. I.. just listened to him sing.

Trevor: Yeah.

Dulcinea: Had a few laughs, thatís it.

Trevor: You dumped him, huh?

Dulcinea: Heís crazy. Puts kind of a crimp in our future.

Trevor: Sure, heís a little eccentric, but thatís because he lives to serve all these higher principals which are embodied in his lady love. Thatís you.

Dulcinea: (laughs) Well, if you look at my resume you wonít find Ďhigher idealsí youíll find Ďlap dancingí.

Trevor: All Iím saying is just--

Dulcinea: Look, Sancho. Itís a harsh world out there.

Trevor: (nods) Yeah.

Dulcinea: Whatís best is no illusions and no bull.

Trevor: My nameís not Sancho. (clears throat) Whatís your real name?

Dulcinea: (chuckles) Baby, they call me Mona Lovesong, and if thatís what they call me, who am I to argue? (sighs and continues putting on her makeup)

~~~~~~~~~~ Part 4 ~~~~~~~~~~

(Cut to a hospital. Trevor walks out of an elevator and down to the psychiatric care unit. Thereís a door that says ďAuthorized Personnel OnlyĒ, Trevor tries to open the door, but itís locked. Sitting behind a desk is Mike, a hospital worker.)

Mike: Sorry, psychiatric wards are restricted.

Trevor: Uh, thatís okay, Iím a higher power.

Mike: Yeah, well, the only higher power around here is an attending psych.

Claire: (walks over) Heís with me, Mike. Thank you.

(Mike hits a button and the door buzzes opens)

Trevor: What happened?

Claire: Oh, the inevitable, he tilted at a windmill and got hurt.

Trevor: How bad?

Claire: Cracked ribs, bruises, a few cuts but heíll mend. (uses her security card to get past another door)

Trevor: So you committed him?

Claire: I canít allow him to wander around the city challenging people to duels.

(they get to Don/Robertís room and Trevor looks through a window on the door. Don is inside strapped to a bed)

Trevor: Why is he strapped?

Claire: I know itís painful to se.. but itís policy. Itís only when heís alone. Thereís nothing I can do about it. Ok? Come on.

(The enter Don/Robertís room)

Don/Robert: Shh. Shh. (whispering) Dear friends.. save yourselves. The inquisition spares no one.

Claire: Youíre in a psychiatric hospital.. not a dungeon.

Don/Robert: (looks at Trevor) Sancho. Flee this place, or they will lock you up, too. Did I defeat the Turks?

Claire: There are...no Turks. There is no Dulcinea. Your name is Robert Cunningham.

Don/Robert: Madame! I am Don Quixote de la Mancha. Governor of the Isle of Barataria!

Claire: (shakes her head) No, youíre not.

Don/Robert: Astride my trusty stead Rocinante, I scatter evildoers before me! My honor I hold dear than I my life. Tell her, Sancho.

Claire: (to Trevor) His name is Robert Cunningham. He needs our help. Trevor, he needs your help.

Don/Robert: I am a virtuous knight, and you are my loyal manservant. Tell her, Sancho. Sancho?

Trevor: Get well...Robert. Get well.

(Robert looks devastated. Trevor walks out of the room and Claire follows him)

Claire: Trevor, wait a minute.

Trevor: Iím thinking the guyís heartís broken. Heís been beat up, okay? So, maybe, just maybe you can give him a couple of days before you scramble his eggs.

Claire: We have to take any opportunity we can for a breakthrough.

Trevor: You--you were the one that said out in the real world that he could be useful. If he stays here heíll sit in a corner and drool.

Claire: Who are we talking about?

Trevor: The great truth that you want this guy to wrap his mind around is that he killed his wife, and you actually think thatís better than--than thinking heís a great knight who rights the wrongs wherever he goes?

Claire: Yes.

Trevor: So thereís no situation in which a delusion is preferable to what you mortals call reality?

Claire: None. Trevor, and that goes for whatever horror you lived through as well.

Trevor: Good luck, Claire. ďNo DelusionsĒ-- thatís a philosophy thatís not so easy to live by. (tries to open the door but itís locked) Are you gonna let me outta here?

Claire: Iíd prefer you stayed.

Trevor: What? Youíve got an opening in electric shock? Two for one? Don Quixote and Cupid?

Claire: If you just sit with him, I donít have to strap him down again.

(Trevor goes back to Don/Robertís room and Claire leaves the psychiatric ward)

(Cut to Don/Robertís room a little while later. Trevor is sleeping in a chair and Don/Robert is sitting up in bed when Claire and ĎDulcineaí walk into the room)

Don/Robert: (after ĎDulcineaí walks in) Dulcinea. My lovely Dulcinea.

Dulcinea: (softly) Yeah. That nameís as good as any I guess. (looks at his bruised face) Ooh. Whatíd they do to you?

Don/Robert: Ah, you forget Dulcinea, I am a fighting man.

(Trevor wakes up)

Dulcinea: And the worldís full of bandits and rogues, right?

Don/Robert: (nods) When I am well... we shall be married by the cardinal of Madrid. We shall return to my vineyards on the Isle of Barataria, where we shall sip chilled wine in the olive grooves, servants will fetch you whatever you desire. And at night.. I will come to your chamber and we will make love and sleep in each otherís arms.

Dulcinea: (smiles) I guess I could love you, given the world was a different kind of place. But itís not. Guyís like you end up in the loony bin. Girlís like me end up somewhere worse.

Don/Robert: We can overcome all misfortunes.

Dulcinea: Iíve spent too many years... beiní nothing more than a fantasy, but you know what? (sighs) My name is Mary Jean Rollins! Thatís who I am underneath all this crap! Plain old Mary Jean Rollins! I truly hope you find your Dulcinea out there. (kisses him and leaves the room)

Don/Robert: (calling to her) Mary Jean! (Dulcinea/Mary Jean comes back to the door) I will get better. I will not be in this dunge-- hospital, forever.

Dulcinea/Mary Jean: Then you come find me, Robert. I think Iíd like that. (Robert smiles at her and she smiles back)

(Claire looks at Trevor who is smiling a little bit)

(Cut to Taggertyís. Claireís father, Bill Allen is up on stage, playing the guitar with a jazz band, while Claire and some other customers watch. Trevor walks over to Claireís table carying the album he bought at the jazz store)

Trevor: (shows Claire the album) ďLive at the Blue Note, August 15, 1974. Joey Barron, Ron Carter, Don Cherry.. Paul Bley.. and Bill Allen.

Claire: (amazed) This is a really rare recording.

Trevor: Yeah. Yeah it is. The apex of his life. Top of his game. As good as it got. I wanted you to have it.

Claire: Thank you.

Trevor: Sure.

(Up on stage the jazz band just finished a song. Thereís applause from around the room)

Bill: (to the band, laughing) Great. Great, great. Guys.

(Camera pans back to the table where Claire and Trevor are sitting)

Trevor: Uh.. you were right about Don Quixote. Robert... Cunningham.

Claire: I am an expert on delusions, right?

(Bill goes over to Claireís table and Trevor leaves)

Bill: Well, how was I?

Claire: (gives him a hug) Ohh.

Bill: huh?

Claire: Brilliant, as always.

Bill: Ah. (chuckles and sits down) I, uh, I checked out that list of apartments that you set up for me.

Claire: Uh, did you see anything you licked?

Bill: Yeah. There was... there was one apartment on Division Street. Itís close enough for Sunday morning breakfasts.

Claire: So, are you gonna take the job?

Bill: Abso-damn-lutely. You and me have a.. lot of years to make up. Your dad.. the father.

Claire: Mmm. Oh.. itís just...

Bill: What is it, honey?

Claire: (sighs) Watching you up there, I.. I just.. think youíre a player.. Dad.

Bill: (smiles) Honey, thatís beautiful. but.. look, I got no records, I mean.. nobody.. nobody records my music. Thereís no royalties coming in. Iím a journeyman.

Claire: (shows him the ďLive at the Blue NoteĒ album) Pretty good company you keep. Legends, Iíd say.

Bill: Oh men (shakes his head) Wow. 1974. Don, Joey, Ron. You see guy like that.. they make you sound better than you are. Hmm.

Claire: My dad, the working musician. My dad, the road warrior. My dad, the jazz man.

Bill: Ho... Are--are you making a point here?

Claire: I donít think youíre a talent scout.. or a liaison, I -- I think youíre one of them.

Bill: (smiles and kisses his daughter on her forehead) Oh. Honey, listen. I gotta-- (gestures towards the stage)

Claire: I know, I know. My dad, the demon fingers. Go play.

(Bill goes up to the stage. Claire Sighs. Trevor walks over and sits down next to Claire)

Trevor: I guess when it comes to quashing delusions, itís do as I say, not as I do.

Claire: I am getting rid of delusions, Trevor.

Trevor: Ah.

Claire: Iím getting rid of my own.

Bill: (on stage) Uh, this is an original. And itís called ďBreakfast with ClaireĒ

(The band starts to play a slow sweet song)

Claire: (listening to her fatherís music) Thatís nice, isnít it?

Trevor: Yeah. Itís beautiful.

(Claire listens and a few tears trickle down her cheek)

End of GRAND DELUSIONS
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