Frasier 8.0: "Frasier Crane Day"
"I Know You Are, But What Am I?"
Frasier sat at home on the sofa reading a People Magazine, specifically the blind item column that guessed the sexualities and promiscuity of random celebrities. Just then the landline telephone rang the "Frasier jingle", which made him jolt up and answer it;
"Crane residence, Doctor Frasier Crane speaking;" He announced over the phone, "Charlotte dear how ARE you?!" He cooed into the phone. "Y-you are?!" He reacted excitedly, just as the front door opened up and Martin hobbled inside. "Oh that's wonderful dear I can't wait to see you again, uh-huh buh-bye!" Frasier said sweetly before hanging up. "Who was that!?" Martin eavesdropped crankily. "That was Charlotte, she's flying in from Chicago tonight. She wants to meet for dinner and drinks." Frasier declared. "Well it's about damn time!" Martin sneered, as he ambled over to his ratty recliner and hopped in. "You've only been engaged to the woman for like...FIVE years!" Martin said with scowl. "You're certainly in a MOOD today." Frasier noted, "What's gotten you so foul?" He asked. "Well if you must know it's that damn Mrs. Magrini!" Martin exclaimed. "Oh boy, what'd she do this time?" Frasier queried. "It's that damn snobby poodle of hers, 'Princess' or whatever the hell its name is!" Martin complained, "Each time I bring Eddie to the dog park, that damn poodle always has its way with him!" Martin cursed. "Well dad as predators, canines do exhibit a degree of territorial behavior." Frasier mansplained. "That's not what I mean!" Martin snapped back. "Well what DO you mean?!" Frasier inquired. "I mean that each time I bring poor Eddie there, that poodle is ready and waiting in a gimp suit with a strap-on!" Martin complained. "Oh my..." Frasier muttered to himself. "It's weird Frasier, really WEIRD!" Martin groaned. "I'll say...I mean how is the dog even affording this bondage gear on its own?!" Frasier queried. "I don't know but it's getting to the point where I have to scope out other viable dog parks!" Martin moaned angrily. "Well dad you shouldn't have to change venues just because of someone else's problematic dog." Frasier stated. "I know that, but I ain't going near that dog or its owner while they're dressed up in those gimp suits!" Martin replied disgusted. "Wait Mrs. Magrini ALSO wears a gimp suit...to the dog park?" Frasier queried unsure. "Yes and it's creepy as hell!" Martin again complained as he adjusted his glasses and changed the channel to some intervention program. "Well I am going to get to the bottom of this!" Frasier announced, "Just as soon as I get home from work." "Well good luck, because you're gonna need it!" Martin groaned as he watched a fat hoarder get screamed at by his therapist and family members on the television.
Later that day Frasier was finishing up a call with a neurotic caller;
"Marcy if you have a phobia of the dead, the best medicine is to confront it head on!" Frasier cried into the microphone. "I-I don't know Doctor Crane, I'm just really terrified by the idea of being around dead people, especially at night!" the caller replied nervously. "You see Marcy that is exactly WHY you haven't conquered your fear yet, because you are allowing you’re supposed 'nyctophobia' to enable this fanciful and otherwise meaningless fear of non-living organisms!" Frasier ranted angrily. "B-But Doctor Crane..!" cried the caller. "No buts!" Frasier shouted. "Move into a crypt, at night, and face your fears head on!" Frasier demanded as he ended the call. "Roz who is our next caller?" Frasier inquired. "Next on the line we have Zeke from Topeka, who says that he just really enjoys having sex with random hookers." Roz replied dryly. "Ah hello Zeke, I'm listening." Frasier said smugly. "Uh hi Doctor Crane, so I have this I dunno...I guess 'fetish' for putting my penis in random holes." Zeke admitted. "You see Zeke part of the problem right there is your objectification of women!" Frasier mused, "You see once you observe a prostitute or 'working girl' as more than a mere 'hole', you will find that the hole that really needs filling or a 'metaphorical penis' in it is your eternal soul!" Frasier lectured angrily. "And with that Doctor Crane, we're out of time." Roz interjected. "Ah yes good night Seattle, and good mental health!" Frasier said smugly with a face reeking of unearned accomplishment.
Just then station manager Kate Costas tapped on the studio glass before opening the door, "Big meeting upstairs, now." She said before walking away. "Gee Frasier you don't think we're going to lose our jobs again do you?" Roz wondered. "Nonsense!" Frasier replied, "It's probably just another pep talk, encouraging us all at KACL to keep up the good work and present our best faces." Frasier presumed. "It's radio Frasier, no one SEES our faces." Roz corrected.
Frasier and Roz hustled up to the second floor offices, where the rest of KACL was gathered around Kate Costas, "There you are now we can begin." Kate announced. "As some of you know since our initial closure interest in this station has decline by twenty-six percent, which may not seem like much but in the long run the numbers are dismal!" Kate explained. "Hey I've been working consistently since eighty-eight!" Bulldog Briscoe declared, "Which is sad that I have to cut your showtime by half!" Kate barked back. "This bologna!" Bulldog cried, "This is total B.S!" he ranted. "And as much as your audience has expanded since transferring from the 'delectable delights' to 'Gil's Gay Porn for Straight Review', I sadly also have to cut back your presentation time." Kate said to Gil Chesterton, whose face shriveled up and mouth puckered up as if he'd swallowed a box full of "sour patch kids." "Thieves! Brigands!" He cried all dramatic, "Charlatans and rogues the lot of you!" He cried girlishly as he stormed off, his high heels clacking on the tile floor. "W-well where does that leave us!?" Frasier asked hesitantly. "Well funny you should ask that Frasier," Kate replied. "Because of the success of our little commercial project and due to your popularity as a radio shrink, the listeners have demanded an upwards of forty-percent increase in the Frasier Crane Show." Kate added. "WHAT!?" Roz screamed. "B-but that means I'll be getting more time while everyone else gets...less." Frasier mumbled as Gil, Bulldog and everyone else glared daggers at him. "Watch your back harlot!" Gil threatened like a woman. "This stinks!" Bulldog cried, "THIS IS MALARKY!" He screamed as he took the drinking fountain, smashed the window and jumped out of it with the fountain. "Well what about Noel Shempsky?" Roz inquired. "He was insolent, I had him liquidated!" Kate replied angrily. "Now if there are no more questions, Roz and Frasier you are expected back in your studio while the rest of you can go home." She instructed before walking away into her office and slamming the door. Roz simply stood and glared angrily at Frasier, who attempted to deny any wrongdoing. "I. Am Going. To Mess. You. Up!" Roz quietly threatened before storming off downstairs, Frasier hesitantly following in pursuit.
"R-Roz wait, please It wasn't my fault!" Frasier wailed like a girl. "Oh really, wanna tell me again who's brother it was that decided that it would be a good idea to ride around on a segway while playing a mobile phone game!?" Roz replied angrily, "W-well that could have been anybody!" Frasier lied. "Oh come on Frasier!" Roz shouted, "You know good and well it was Niles that ran that janitor over and knocked him into a coma!" Roz yelled. "How is Ed by the way?" Frasier interrupted. "He died yesterday morning, service is on Friday at three P.M, Kate wants you to read the eulogy." Roz replied. "Mon Dieu!" Frasier complained. "Just get to your microphone and shut up!" Roz ordered as she adjusted herself at the producer's switchboard.
"Laundry Day is A Dangerous Day"
Martin sat relaxed in his lazy boy recliner watching "So you think you can dance", while there was a sudden pounding at the door. "Come in!" Martin hollered from his seat, far too engrossed with his show to get up, but the pounding resumed, louder and more forceful this time. "I SAID COME IN!" Martin screamed, but the knocking grew louder and harder until the old man could barely take it and he hobbled off of his chair and ambled over to the door, "God damn it!" He swore, "I should just be able to buzz people in via the remote!" He complained as he swung open the door to reveal Daphne Moon in a wheelchair with a neck and back brace, with three baskets full of laundry and pile of towels on her lap.
"Daphne what happened to you!?" Martin gasped. "I was tryin' ta climb the stairs when some yank left his dirty old knickers on the floor, causing me to trip and fall down twenty flights of stairs!" she groaned as she wheeled herself into the apartment. "You were in the hospital this whole time, why didn't you try calling!?" Martin cried. "I did you daft yank, about seventy times!" Daphne hollered back, "I got tired of waiting and just phoned an uber." She declared. "This never would have happened if SOMEBODY hadn't left his nasty crusty old skivvies lyin' about!" She complained. "Well Daphne, I just thought leaving them down there would be helpful for you." Martin explained, "After all you spend so much time down there, it's practically your hobbit hole!" He exclaimed. "I don't LIVE in the laundry room you old git!" Daphne yelled as she rolled up to the dining table, "I trek down there probably once a week, I've got me own room up here opposite yours and this whole time you believed I LIVED down in the broiler room!" Daphne complained. "Ah you'll get over it Daff, after all most families from Europe had separate living quarters for the help." Martin mansplained. "I am a certified CARE-TAKER!" Daphne screamed, "I AM NOT A BLOODY MAID!" she added for emphasis before wheeling away into her room and slamming shut the door. "Hmph, well someone must be on their period." Martin grumbled to himself as he returned to watching "So you think you can dance."
“Even Normies like Peggy Townsend-Clark”
Hours had passed and Roz patched one final caller through to close-out the show, “Doctor Crane, we’ve got one last caller; his name’s Stan and he has a little problem with his wife”. Roz introduced as Frasier listened attentively before patching the caller through, “Hello Staniel, I am listening. “Hi Doctor, so I have this problem; well it’s more of a fear actually.” The caller explained. “Staniel, we all have fears…well not I of course, because I am simply too busy helping peons like you overcome theirs.” Frasier bragged. “Well it’s more of a phobia actually,” Stan added. “For God’s sake man just spit it out already!” Frasier screamed into the mic, angry over the thought of missing his evening glass of sherry. “It’s ladders.” Stan replied. “Ladders Staniel?” Frasier repeated with an raised eyebrow. “Yes, I can’t go near them because I might fall.” Stan explained. “Ah of course you have classic case of ‘acrophobia’, a very common and completely not irrational fear.” Frasier explained with a smug smile, while Roz gestured to her wristwatch in the producer’s window. “Staniel what I am going to recommend for you right now tonight is to try an antiquated American pastime known as ‘flagpole sitting’.” Frasier stated with confidence. “Flagpole sitting?” Stan reiterated confused. “Oh yes, all of the greats practiced it at one time; Saint Simeon Stylites the Elder of Antioch, Alvin "Shipwreck" Kelly, even normies like Peggy Townsend-Clark sat atop of a pole for a grand total of two-hundred and seventeen days!” Frasier enthused. “Doctor Crane I don’t think you understand, it’s not heights that I’m afraid of; in fact I’m sitting on my chimney stack right now as I’m saying this; it’s ladders themselves that I am afraid of.” Stan explained. Frasier stopped midsentence with a raised finger and stared blankly into the microphone, “I’m sorry STAN, but did you say that you were actually afraid of LADDERS?” Frasier mocked. “Yes Doctor,” Stan answered. “And I wonder what this ‘little problem’ you’re having with your wife is?” Frasier mocked with a scowl. “Gloria’s mad at me for being scared of ladders, though I think she’s mostly embarrassed, on account that we live in an affluent area and her peers (she had no friends) mock her endlessly about it.” Stan explained. “I see…” Frasier droned out in a long drawn out sigh. “It looks like we’re out of time Doctor Crane,” Roz interjected. “However if Stan would like to remain on the line, I can refer him to a good grief counselor.” “Grief counselor, but I’m not depressed!” Stan exclaimed over the phone. “Well you’re going to be once your wife divorces you.” Roz replied before ending the call.
Frasier smirked so hard that his forehead wrinkles formed a wicked grin as he ripped the headset from his cranium and tossed it onto the desk. “Bravo Roz!” he congratulated with an applaud. “Frasier you’re not done yet, you still have to record that thirty second ad for Viagra.” Roz instructed, pointing at the recording desk. “VIAGRA!” Frasier shrieked like a little girl having just seen a snake. “Yes Frasier; it’s all over the place ever since it went over-the-counter.” Roz explained.
A few hours later…
“And that children, is why when I go shopping for erectile aids for MY father, I always chose the best, I always chose; Viagra! Goodnight, and Godspeed!” Frasier proclaimed before ending the narration. He rose from his seat and faced Roz at the window with an undeserved smile of accomplishment. “How was that?” Frasier queried. “Oh it was great,” Roz replied with a fake smile. “R-really?” Frasier pleaded. “Yea but unfortunately the rest of Seattle only got to hear the first ten seconds of your supermarket manifesto!” Roz exclaimed annoyed. “W-why? I did the ad was described!” Frasier cried. “No Frasier you didn’t, the sponsors asked for a clean and simple thirty-second ad pitching their product. That means to the point, and no frills!” Roz explained, “What you delivered was a two-hour long dissertation on lying to get out of dinner with your in-laws, and which members of the vegetable family make the best suppositories.” Roz added. “Well Rozlyn I think that sounds preposterous!” Frasier screamed, “A-a man, a fragile one at that,” he ranted. “You can say that again.” Roz agreed. “A man goes out on a limb and bears his SOUL to the public forum of Homo sapiens and his words aren’t even HEARD!” Frasier screamed, “Not even a mere utterance?” Frasier cried. “What can I say Frasier, you went OVER TIME and I warned you when it was cutting it close, but you just had to play pretend ‘psychologist Lucy Van Pelt to Stan’s Charlie Brown’ and then waxing poetic about sex products.” Roz femsplained, “Oh and that little joke call with Stan had already put you over about two minutes!” Roz added. “ROZLYN!” Frasier shrieked as he tore open the door to the producer’s booth, “I resent those remarks!” “Then lawyer up buddy!” Roz yelled as she grabbed her things and walked out the producer’s exit, before turning around and yelling back, “And it’s just ROZ!” Leaving Frasier standing in the booth alone, like a rebuked Karen in a McDonald’s drive-thru.
(End credits roll, Martin hobbles out of his room into the living room and enters the kitchen. He pulls open the crisper drawer and examines and compares several vegetables before settling on a zucchini and hobbling back out to the living room, down the hallway and into his room. Meanwhile Eddie scampers out from Daphne’s room with a lacy pair of pink panties in his mouth, he runs up and jumps onto Frasier’s beige couch and begins gnawing on the panties. Just then the door opens up and in walks Frasier, he catches Eddie in the act and scolds him, ripping the panties from his mouth and Daphne comes in from the kitchen in shock seeing Frasier waving her panties about in the air over his head, when Daphne rips them from his grasp and smacks him with them before storming off)
"Hey baby, I hear the blues a-callin'
Tossed salads and scrambled eggs
Oh My
Mercy
And maybe I seem a bit confused
Yeah maybe, but I got you pegged!
Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha!
But I don't know what to do with those tossed salads and scrambled eggs
They're callin' again."