Teddy Bear’s Picnic
[Bruce is singing his son to sleep.]
Bruce: [singing] Picnic time for teddy bears / Those little teddy bears are having a wonderful time tonight.
[Bruce tries to leave because Scott appears to be asleep. As soon as Bruce tries this, Scott wakes up and looks to Bruce as if he’s not at all tired.]
Bruce: [singing] See them gaily play about / They love to sing and shout.
[Bruce tries to leave again, same thing happens.]
Bruce: [singing] They haven’t got any cares [Gets up to leave but this time continues to sing] But it’s six o’ clock / Their mummies and daddies will take them home to bed / Because they’re tired little teddy bears. [talking] Good night. [Flips light off.]
Bruce: [light back on, still at doorway] Uh, yes?
Scott: Were all the bears there?
Bruce: Yes. All the bears there ever there was were there. Goodnight.
Scott: Dad? How–how come the picnic ended at six o’ clock? If it was so good? I mean, it’s–it’s not even dark at six.
Bruce: Uh, all the bears were tired from, um…, frolicking.
Bruce: Frolicking’s very tiring, son. Goodnight
Scott: Okay, what they–what they eat?
Bruce: Oh. Well. The teddy bears ate buttons and…felt.
Bruce: Oh, no no! That’s teddy bear food.
Bruce: It’s like hot dogs. Mmm.
Scott: Okay, yeah. Were you even there? What?
Bruce: [Bruce sees he is not about to leave, so he goes back to Scott at the bed.] No, I wasn’t actually there.
Scott: Well, then–then how do you know?
Bruce: A guy at work told me.
Scott: Hank who?
Bruce: You don’t know him.
Scott: Maybe I should call this Hank.
Bruce: No no. I don’t think that would be a good idea, son.
Bruce: Because he doesn’t have a phone.
Scott: What?! What kind of a freak doesn’t have a phone?
Bruce: A freak that works in the mailroom.
Bruce: Now go to sleep.
Scott: Dad, I can’t sleep trying to piece together this sloppy narrative.
Bruce: [sighs] Why don’t you try, uh, counting sheep?
Scott: [cries/whines] Ahh!!
Bruce: What? What, guy?
Scott: How can you make me think of all those slaughtered sheep bloated in the sun? [cries]
Bruce: They’re not slaughtered sheep, son. They’re live ones bounding over your head.
Scott: What? I thought they were dead! You didn’t tell me they were alive. Dad, I was up all night tagging their toes. [cries]
Dave: What is going on around here?
Scott: [still crying] Maa! Uh uh!
[Dave goes over to Scott, who in turn clings onto Dave’s arm.]
Dave: Oh, oh. There, there. What is it?
Scott: Yeah, yeah. Dad told me this “Teddy Bears’ Picnic” story and it sounds like utter bullshit to me.
Dave: There, there. Just remember that your father loves you and I love you even more. . .
Dave: . . . and if you ever use that kind of language in this house again, I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soup.
Bruce: Uh, I think that’s soap, dear.
Dave: Don’t ever contradict me in front of the boy. There, there, little hero, you get some sleep. Okay.
Scott: Okay, `night mom.
Bruce: `Night, Tiger.
[Bruce approaches Scott to give him a kiss, but Scott puts his fists up in self-defense. Bruce kisses the fists. Bruce and Dave leave, they turn out the light, and Scott is alone.]
Scott: Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. Mmm, soup.
[Cut to parents’ bedroom.]
Dave: So, this Teddy Bears’ Picnic story isn’t true?
Bruce: Um, no. Not exactly.
Dave: Well, if you weren’t helping out at the picnic, where were you last weekend? Hmm?
Bruce: You think I’m having an affair, don’t you?!
Dave: [shocked] An affair?!! Oh my God!
Bruce: Um, you didn’t think that?
Dave: [shakes his head no.]
Bruce: Oh. Okay, I’m gonna be honest with you. I was out with a few of the guys from work. . .and a few goblins. . .and, uh, it started raining gumdrops. . .so uh. . .we happened into this wizard’s tavern, and uh. . .I’m gonna be honest, we had a little too much dew to drink. So, uh. . .I thought I shouldn’t drive.
Dave: Well, you did the right thing by not driving, but you should have called.
Bruce: Well, you know, it’s the darndest thing, honey, um, the wizard’s leaf wouldn’t dial out.
Dave: Well, fine. But next time you should just try harder to get a hold of me.
Bruce: You’re right, sweetie.
Bruce: Goodnight. [turns out the nightstand’s light.]
Dave: Who’s Doris?
Bruce: [Turns light back on. Frantically:] Doris. Doris, Doris, uh, Doris.
Dave: Doris. A woman named Doris came to the house the other day and said she’d been meeting you for some time in sleazy motel rooms and that she was carrying your child and wanted to know what you were going to do about it, and I was just wonder who she was.
Bruce: Uh, I could see why you’d be curious.
Dave: Yes, well she did pique my interest, yes.
Bruce: Honey? She’s a goat. She’s a magical goat. And, she delights on playing tricks on us mere mortals.
Dave: I am so. . .relieved!
[Bruce also relieved. Both laugh.]
Dave: I feel like such an idiot.
Bruce: Don’t feel like an idiot. No no, it’s natural.
Dave: Oh, can you forgive me?
Bruce: I do, I do.
Dave: Oh, I should be jealous. [cuddles into covers]
Bruce: [turns out light] Yes you should.