Script by Eric
SECTION 1 (0:01)
WOMAN: I don't need anymore towels. I'm fine. I said I'm fine.
MAN: Hey.
WOMAN: What are you doing here? You said 10:30.
MAN: I couldn't wait!
WOMAN: Come in! Come in! Oh, this room – it's beautiful, isn't it?
MAN: Well, I thought you'd like it.
WOMAN: I'm gonna need ten more minutes. I'm trying to look natural for you. It takes a lot of work looking natural. You men never appreciate that. Well, you were right about the balcony. It's really fun. The last room I rented was some motel room with a view of the parking lot.
MAN: Oh, room service.
WOMAN: I couldn't resist. They had your favorite: chocolate colored strawberries. You've gotta try one. They're sinful. Mmm.
MAN: Mmm.
WOMAN: Can I tell you the truth? I was beginning to think you were ashamed of being seen with me. Take off your coat and stay awhile. We've got all night.
MAN: Cally, I've got something to ask you.
WOMAN: Really? My heart, my heart is beating like a rabbit's. I mean, I was hoping when you asked me to meet you here...
MAN: No, outside, in the moonlight.
WOMAN: I'm not sure there's much of a moon. I'm probably glowing enough to make up for it. Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening.
MAN: Well, it is. Let me just...
WOMAN: Oh, oh.
MAN: Well?
WOMAN: Oh my god.
MAN: Do you like it?
WOMAN: It's gorgeous. It, it's perfect. You won't regret this. I promise. Sorry I've been calling you so much lately. I just get so jealous. But that's over now. I'm gonna make you so happy.
MAN: I know you will.
WOMAN: This is probably the best night of my life. I could die right now. I really could.
MAN: Funny you should say that.
WOMAN: What are you doing?
~~~
SECTION 2 (3:13)
Tigger: “Julie Tigger is applying to Cal State Berkeley where she's hoping to major in theater arts. She thanks her mother, Natalie, for all the inspiration in the world.” Look, there's a little picture.
MONK: Uh-huh..
Tigger: Oh god, I don't know why I'm so nervous. I know she's gonna be great. She's been performing her whole life. She used to do these little skits in our living room. And once she did The Wizard of Oz – like all the characters, even the witch.
MONK: Uh, yeah. I think this is my armrest. That one's yours.
Tigger: Mr. Monk, we're supposed to share.
MONK: Where are we, Russia, now?
Tigger: OK, OK, it's yours. Oh no.
MONK: Hmm?
Tigger: It's John Hannigan.
MONK: Who?
Tigger: John Hannigan, the theater critic from The San Francisco Dispatch. What's he doing here? He doesn't normally review community theater. Maybe he read Julie's review in the school paper. You think?
MONK: Maybe.
Tigger: Really?
MONK: No.
Tigger: I hope he's in a good mood. Normally he's so critical about everything.
MONK: Isn't that his job? I mean, he's a critic.
MONK: Hello.
WOMAN: Good evening.
MONK: Is that your father?
WOMAN: Uh-huh.
MONK: Would you two mind switching seats?
WOMAN: Why?
MONK: I just want to thank him for his service.
MONK: Thank you for your service.
MAN: No problem.
TIGGER: Now all you need is a headless man to sit in front of you.
MONK: Yeah, or a dwarf. Uh-oh.
TIGGER: What? What is it?
MONK: We have to go home. Come on.
TIGGER: Why?
MONK: I have a situation. Nature. N-A: nature alert.
TIGGER: Mr. Monk, do you have to go to the bathroom?
MONK: Shush!
TIGGER: You know, I'm not leaving. I've been waiting all year to see this.
MONK: We could be back in 20 minutes. Let's go.
TIGGER: Forget it! Just forget it! She's only in two scenes. Why don't you use the men's room like everybody else?
MONK: I wish you could hear yourself sometimes. The men's room is a public facility. I don't use public facilities.
TIGGER: Well, I'm sorry that you feel that way because I'm not leavin'.
ATTENDANT: May I help you, sir.
MONK: I'm sorry. I'm just looking for the men's room.
ATTENDANT: This is the gentlemen's restroom, sir.
MONK: This is the men's room?
ATTENDANT: Mm-hmm.
MONK: How long has this been going on?
ATTENDANT: Oh, since the theater was built, sir. That would be 1910.
MONK: It's fantastic.
ATTENDANT: Oh, thank you, sir. I like to think of it as someplace special. A sort of sanctuary, as it were. An oasis in the desert.
MONK: Yeah. You must have 10 different soaps here.
ATTENDANT: Exactly 10, sir. Yes sir.
MONK: Oh, my.
ATTENDANT: Ah, that's from China, sir. The Gunsu province.
MONK: Very nice. Oh, may I?
ATTENDANT: Oh. It's Peruvian cotton, sir. They're hand woven.
MONK: I didn't think people like you – I mean attendants – still existed.
ATTENDANT: Ah, we're a dying breed, sir. Some people would consider this work beneath them. But I enjoy it. My father used to say, “Gill, son, there are no small jobs, there are only small people.
MAN: Here you go.
ATTENDANT: Uh, I believe that's mine, sir.
MONK: Oh, yes. I'm sorry. That would make more sense.