Opening: The lobby of the Betty Ford Clinic. Voice over the intercom
says: "Detox orientation: third floor." On the left is an elevator; on the
right are glass doors leading out of the building to the street outside.
Also on the right is a reception desk - apparently unattended. Near
reception is a door on the right apparently leading into the clinic. A
man (Orlando Jones) with a rather scruffy appearance enters from
the street and approaches reception.
Man: 'Scuse me.
[Suddenly, the Vancome Lady (Nicole Sullivan) appears at the reception desk, attired in a pink dress.]
Vancome Lady: Hi! Welcome to the Betty Ford Clinic. How may I help you?
Man: I need some help - I need to be admitted.
Vancome Lady: OK, you're just going to fill out this form - [looks at man, then stops in her tracks] - shaaaah - you know what? I know you! You're that famous outfielder for the New York Mets, Darren Udell!
Man (somewhat annoyed): Could you keep it down? I'm trying to keep a low profile, alright?
Vancome Lady: OK, see, we here at Betty Ford Clinic don't consider smoking crack and hanging out with hundred dollar hookers low profile. [The phone at the reception desk rings; the Vancome Lady answers. Into phone:] Hello; Betty Ford Center; how may I help you? [Pause] The National Enquirer? [Udell starts gesticulating wildly, apparently an attempt to keep the Vancome Lady from giving away his identity.] Yes. [Pause] No; I cannot help you. Yes; I'm busy admitting Darren Udell. Bye-bye! [She hangs up. A dejected Udell looks on. The phone rings again; Kathy answers. Into phone:] Yes, the famous outfielder for the Mets! [She hangs up again.] Wow, Mr. Udell, everyone just loves you!
Man: Man, what are you trying to do? I need help!
Vancome Lady: No; it seems to me it's your wife that needs help. You might want to get her a batting helmet. It seems that your battering average at home is higher than your batting average on the field!
Man (exasperated): Look, are you going to help me or what?
Vancome Lady: I'm sorry. We here at Betty Ford Clinic only help people who've hit rock bottom, and let's face it - you can't hit anything! Bye-bye. Thnak's for stopping in. OK. Thank you.
[The baseball player exits through the same front entrance from which he entered. A second man walks in from the street; he has long hair, is wearing a black shirt and tight pants and is carrying a jacket. He approaches reception.]
Tim Berlin: Yeah, hey, hi - I'm Tim Berlin - do you guys have a room for me?
Vancome Lady: OK, and what's your occupation?
Tim Berlin: I'm the drummer for Tirade.
Vancome Lady: Shaaaah - you know what? Un-uh! Yeah, no, see that's not gonna work. You see, one hit wonders don't make it at Betty Ford Clinic. We haven't heard from your rock combo since 1985. We're saving the Kurt Cobain Suite for a Smashing Pumpkin, or maybe Steven Tyler if he comes back.
Tim Berlin: C'mon, man, I'm really sick! I'm in a lot of pain.
Vancome Lady: OK, why don't you take that internal pain, make it external, write a song about it; then maybe you can be a two-hit wonder!
Tim Berlin (hopeful): You think I could?
Vancome Lady: Shaaaah - no. Bye-bye. Thanks for stopping in. [Tim Berlin makes his way towards exit.] Bye-bye. Shoo! Shoo!
Voice over Intercom: Patient 641 is escaping.
[The elevator doors open. A patient slowly staggers towards the exit.]
Vancome Lady: Shaaaah - you know what? [Kathy lifts a blow gun to her mouth and blows a dart at the patient; the dart hits his neck and he quickly collapses.] Un-uh! [Two attendants emerge from the elevator and remove the patient. Kathy returns to her work - but not for long. A woman (Debra Wilson) with a small child, presumably her daughter, emerges from the street. She approaches reception.]
Vancome Lady (to woman): Hi! Welcome to the Betty Ford Center! How may I help you?
Woman: Hi, we're here to see my husband - Senator Lipton.
Vancome Lady: Oh yeah. [To child:] I bet you're exited to see daddy, aren't ya?
Daughter: Yeah. He's been clean and sober for 28 days.
Vancome Lady: Yeah - no. You can't see him. See, we'd like to keep him sober, and here at Betty Ford, you're what we like to call alki's little helper.
Woman: What do you mean by that?
Vancome Lady (to child): You do know that you're the reason why your daddy drinks, don't you?
Daughter: The therapist told me it's not my fault!
Vancome Lady: Yeah, no - you're cute. Therapists get paid big bucks to tell those lies.
Daughter: I hate myself! [She runs out of the clinic.]
Vancome Lady: Oh, my - look at her go!
Woman (visibly angry): How could you talk to my child this way? Who do you think you are?!
Vancome Lady: Wow! You're pretty sassy for a codependant, aren't you?
Woman: I am calling my husbands lawyer, and I guarantee you, by the end of the evening, I will own this place!
Vancome Lady (drowning her out): OK, ma'am, I can't hear you - lalala, lalalalala - [Woman exits, but Kathy's boss (Phil LaMarr) enters from the door on the right.] Well, hello there Mr. Vincent!
Mr. Vincent: That is it. I want you out, OUT!
Vancome Lady: I assume you don't mean out from behind the desk.
Mr. Vincent: No, I mean out as in you're fired!
Vancome Lady: OK. Well thank's so much for letting me work here at
Betty Ford, and thank's for the methadone - it certainly took the edge
off of sleeping with you.
Mr. Vincent: I'm calling security! [He picks up the phone at reception. Kathy picks up the blow gun and fires a dart at Mr. Vincent at point blank range; Mr. Vincent is hit in the neck and quickly falls. Kathy picks up the receiver.]
Vancome Lady: Hello, security? Yeah, there's a doped-up patient here who's trying to escape. I believe he'llbe needing some shock therapy. OK, bye-bye. [She takes her purse and steps out from behind the reception desk.] And bye-bye Mr. Vin-cent.
[Kathy exits through the front door, taking the dart gun with her; as she leaves the same two attendants who earlier carried away the patient emerge from the elevator and carry Mr. Vincent into the elevator. Fade-out.]