Elaine runs for the front door, and swings it open, greeting her visitor before she opens the door all the way.

Elaine: Hi, Bryce! You're right...on time. Um. Hello.

Bryce: Hi! You look great!

Elaine (confused): Hello...uh...sir? Do I know you? You're not supposed to be up here selling cable subscriptions or looking for donations to Save the Beached Whales or anything like that.

Bryce: Elaine, it's me! Bryce!

Elaine (stares at him, squints, and finally recognition sinks in): Oh, rightrightright, Bryce! I didn't recognize you without your ha- without my glasses on. Sorry about that!

Bryce: No problem. You're ready?

Elaine: Yea. Sure. Let me get my purse.

Elaine turns away from the clean-cut guy at the door, and sticks her tongue out at no one in particular, showing her disgust, as if she's just bit into a lemon.



Elaine and Bryce are eating dinner, or rather, Elaine is picking at her food and drinking lots of Peach Schnapps, while Bryce is just rambling on about himself, boring her completely.

Elaine (voice-over): I can NOT believe my luck! What happened to this guy, anyway? I meet him at the gym last week, he's all sweaty and sexy, and...sigh...flowing long brown hair, and tonight on our first date, he shows up with a buzz-killing buzz-cut! A ridiculous, clean-cut 1960's hairstyle! Look at him! Is he wearing Brylcreem in his hair? Do they even still make that stuff? Why is it so greasy? He looks like Beaver Cleaver on his first date! He looks like Agent 86 Maxwell Smart, but without the jokes and endearing bumbling! He looks like Bill O'Reilly, but without the hate-mongering and paranoia! And just listen to how boring this doofus is!

Bryce: ...My uncle lived on a farm, and it really opened up his eyes! One time he rolled up a piece of bread from the store and showed it to me, and said, 'Look, Brycie-boy, at how many chemicals are in this processed white bread!', and do you know, it was completely true! He'd squashed the piece of bread back into it's original doughy form! It was like some kinda down-home country mystery science to me! I think we could all learn alot by living on a farm...

Elaine (voice-over): I can't take this! All he had going for him before was his smile and his hair! His long, luscious, wavy hair that I'd planned to play with! Why doesn't he ask about me, and my life, my experiences? With that dopey farm-boy haircut like that, he has to show some interest in me! What makes a guy cut off all of his hair? Doesn't he realize that I was into him just for his body...and his amazing hair! Aaugh. I want my Pretty Boy back! My vacuous, sweaty, long-haired Pretty Boy! Who needs brains when you like that? It'll be months, Christmas time, before he grows it back to the way it used to be! Taking into account that his Mommy doesn't get involved, and make him keep it this short! Oh, man, I never realized how beady his eyes are! His hair, his sexy-sexy hair must have been in his dumb, itsy-bitsy squinty eyes! Oh, no! Not more stories about homemade bread! Stop talking, dummy! Stop talking! Ssstaawwwp taaaaalkingggg!

Bryce: ...and that's how I grew to love poppy seeds! And then there's the time that I thought I could play mini-pool better against my older cousin, but he would try his best to let me win. I knew it at the time, but didn't say anything about it, because he didn't know that I knew that he knew how bad I was. Even then, the pool cues weren't full size, so maybe, just maybe, my older cousin really couldn't play as well with cues half the size he was used to...

Elaine (voice-over): Oh, thank God! The waiter! I see the waiter! (she waves at him, but gets no response) Yo! YOOOO! Mister Waiter, for all that is righteous and good in the world, for God's sake get over here! I need you now, you ignorant fool! Be my Superman to my Lois Lane! Heyyyy! HEEEYYY! YOU SONNAVA-

Waiter (approaching their table): Yes, ma'am?

Elaine (very pleasantly and demurely, hiding her frustration): I'd appreciate another Peach Schnapps, thank you so much.

Waiter: Certainly.

Bryce (somewhat uncomfortable, since he's only drinking milk): You really like your Peach Schnapps, don't you?

Elaine: Ooooh, yea. It gets me through life's little bumps.

Bryce: HA-HA! That reminds me of a pot hole I almost, just almost drove over on 14th Avenue a month ago! Or was it three weeks ago? I know it was a Sunday...Um. I was on my way home from shopping with my Grandpa for imported oregano...

Elaine nods politely, and begins to pick at her ravioli on her plate, as Bryce ignores his food and just keeps talking. She picks up one on her fork, and stares at it, watching the sauce drip back onto her plate.


Jerry does his stand-up act;

"Until recently, I had no idea that women were so jealous of each other. No, it's true! I was oblivious of this all through high school and into my twenties. I thought guys were competitive, and thought they were so vain and egotistical, all macho, and 'I'm stronger than you', and "I can drink more beer than you', 'I can belch the National Anthem better than you!', and 'I can beat you at Pac-Man, any day, any time, bring it on, maaaan!'. But a recent visit to a lady's department in a store opened up my eyes forever. I couldn't believe what I was seeing! In the makeup section, photos of these glamorous, genetically-engineered, computer-enhanced models promoting their products were defaced and 'enhanced' in ways unlike anything I'd ever seen in a library book growing up! Where there was once a lovely brunette with sexy eyes, all curly lashes and white she's wearing glasses made of lipstick and missing a tooth. Or maybe that tooth turned red, I don't know. Another display photo, this one of a gorgeous blond telling women to buy this bottle of flesh-coloured chemicals to cover up unsightly imperfections, now has a Fu Manchu moustache and a Da Vinci goatee drawn right on her! And I can tell it's not her real facial hair, because they don't match the platinum blond locks on her head. Oh, no, the goatee is kinda pinkish-red, in a hue that the underpaid cosmetics employee told me was actually Subtle Crimson or Infrared Red-something! Can you imagine if men acted this way, in fits of jealousy towards a male model that actually poses no threat because he's just a cardboard photograph at Walmart, anyway? A guy looks for shaving cream, notices a male model in a print ad claiming his is the best, so the guy opens up a rival shaving cream can, and whoossshhh! (mimics spraying it at the photo). 'There! How do ya like them apples, Stud-Boy?' Now you look like Santa Claus with rabies! Another guy is browsing in the tire department, and sees a better-looking man advertising tires that are bigger than his; he picks up a tire, runs out of the store with it, rolls it in mud, runs back into the store and then goes (mimicking lifting the tire to waist height and running it up and down), 'Here's what I think of your treads, you sanctimonious Tire Peddler!'And then there's the most jealous guy, walking through the tool department, stops and notices another guy, all intimidating muscles and chiseled good looks, ten times better-looking then him, so he reaches down and grabs a chainsaw, (mimics turning it on, and going crazy with cutting the invisible display), and cuts away at the better-looking guy, yeee-arrr, yeeee-errrrr! Looks up...notices the department clerk (mimics shocked, frightened, store clerk, looking up at the man, down at the chainsaw, up at the man, down at the chainsaw), to which the man sheepishly looks at the chainsaw, hefts it in his hand, and asks calmly, "Do you have this one in Subtle Crimson?'"



Jerry and his new girlfriend, Tracy, are in the makeup section, with two conflicting demeanors. Tracy is intent on finding just the right eyeshadow, while Jerry is very bored, uncomfortable, and looking at his watch.

Tracy: You look bored, Jerry.

Jerry (feigning interest): Me? I'm thrilled to spend an afternoon in one department, seeing where my taxpayer dollars went to produce eyeshadow that looks better on twenty-something women than on cocker spaniels!

Tracy: They don't test on animals anymore, Jerry!

Jerry: Well, maybe they should! It might be the solution to the rat problem in Manhattan! Instead of laying out cheese...(Jerry pulls a package of eyeshadow out of a display and shows it to her)...stick one of these babies in a mouse trap! The rat would look real sexy wearing it as the trap comes down on his neck! (mimics an axe falling down) Vroomp!

Tracy: That's gross!

Jerry: You want gross? Do you know how much lipstick the average woman swallows in a lifetime?

Tracy: I don't want to know.

Jerry: No, you should know! Especially you!

Tracy (stops looking for an eyeshadow to buy and gives Jerry a hard stare. She's an attractive woman, but wears dark eyeliner and eyeshadow, and dark lipstick): And what does that mean?

Jerry: I just mean, that since we're here, and you're looking for the elusive Holy Grail of eye-shadows-

Tracy: Are you saying I wear too much makeup?

Jerry (hesitating, as he realizes that he's struck a very sensitive nerve, and he's in very dangerous territory): Um. Nope? Just a fun fact. Please continue.

Tracy (still indignant): Thank you. (Turns back to the display of makeup, and checks the prices for about a half minute)

Jerry: Over six pounds!

Tracy (pausing, and then turning to face Jerry, her dark eyes squinting): Excuse me?

Jerry (smiling, but embarrassed- he couldn't help himself): Or so I've heard. Or read. I dunno. Damn that Mike Wallace and '60 Minutes'! In fact, I've heard via the Internet that the Dalmatian breed of dog is actually the unfortunate result of one breed testing black eyeshadow fornicating with ones being used to test powered concealer! That's where all the crazy spots come from!

Tracy frowns, but continues to look for whatever it is she's searching for, walking along the display a little further, Jerry reluctantly, rolling his eyes, following her. She backs up to where she was looking before, so Jerry backs up. Tracy bends down, picks out an eyeshadow, but shakes her head, puts it back, rises, and shuffles over to a different brand, Jerry follows her, trying not to complain. Jerry turns around and checks out a different makeup display and the picture of the sexy famous model advertising it. She's very attractive, and has a lovely smile, distracting him, making him stare at her as he loses track of where he is for several seconds. He hears giggling, blinks and returns to reality, as he notices a pair of teenage girls laughing at him as they catch him in the act. He blushes and looks away from the girl in the advertisement, smiling sheepishly.

Jerry (pointing a thumb behind him, over his shoulder); I'm with her.

The girls giggle again.

Teenaged Girl: What? With Milla Jovovich?

Jerry looks behind him, and Tracy is nowhere to be seen- just the eyeshadow display with Milla Jovovich on it.

Jerry (dashing away, embarrassed): EEEEP!

The girls laugh at him some more, whispering comments to each other.

Jerry rushes about the numerous aisles of makeup, his face showing signs of increased panic as he shares awkward glances with other women buying or selling makeup products, feeling like a laboratory mouse trapped in a scary maze, until he finds Tracy in conversation with a salesgirl. He practically knocks her over as he leaps towards her, grabbing her hand tightly. The salesgirl looks at the couple strangely.

Tracy (almost falling over from the sudden visitor): Whoops! Jerr-rry!

Jerry: Sorrysorry! My bad! I'm in enemy territory here, after all! I'm not letting you out of my sight from now on!

Salesgirl: Ooooh! That's so sweet!

Tracy (sarcastically): Yes, he's a regular Casanova!



Elaine is in charge of the company, while Peterman is once again on a sabbatical. She looks a little hung-over, and over-worked. A knock comes from the door, and suddenly four office services employees, led by Jamie from the loading dock, show up wheeling dollies into the office, each loaded up with four boxes per dolly, which are unceremoniously dumped in front of her desk and in the middle of the office.

Elaine: Hey! Hey, wait! What's all this? Jamie?

Jamie: Just doing what you asked us, or rather ordered us to do, . Here they are.

Elaine: Here what are? I didn't order anything!

Jamie (producing a work order): Sure! Has your name on it, doesn't it? And you called me at home last night, quite adamant and bossy, threatening me with termination if I didn't deliver them by 9:05, and it's now...(checks watch)...9:03. Thanks for waking up my Grandma while you were at it! Had to listen to all of Nana's dumb stories about the 'Old Country' instead of watching the Mets! Enjoy!

Elaine (squinting at the work order): That's not my signature! This is a forgery! Look it even says 'Forget You!' under my name!

Jamie (checking the work order, himself): Uh-uh. It's a different kind of 'F.U.'! Seeya!

Elaine: But-but-but-but this makes no sense! I didn't make any phone...(Elaine pauses, thinks back, and her face breaks out into a painful self-realization as she begins to remember a bad night out with Bryce) Ooooh...fudge.

Jamie: It didn't say 'fudge', either. Let's go, boys! (Jamie begins to usher out his co-workers, and when they've left, he leans back into the door, frowning) And my wife does not look like Larry King!

Jamie slams the door behind him, leaving Elaine to stare at her boxes, helplessly. She shakes her head to herself, and opens one. She gasps as she covers her mouth, shocked by what she finds inside.


Jerry is still holding Tracy's hand, which is making shopping a little awkward, as she tries to reach for an item, only to have to lift his hand with hers.

Jerry: Wow! This is crazy! Twelve dollars for lipstick? You ladies are getting ripped off! You should just smear strawberry-flavoured Kool-Aid on your lips to colorize them! Prest-change-oh! Lip color for just 25 cents! And a refreshing sugar-charged drink to boot!

Tracy: You can let go of my hand now, Jerry. The Bad Blush Boogie Man has left the store!

Jerry reluctantly lets go, but doesn't leave her side, or allow all of the pictures of the pretty makeup models distract him. He makes a face of confusion as he watches Tracy apply lipstick to the side of her hand.

Jerry: Please tell me that's not some sorta New Age She-She-Froo-Froo Paris Fashion Week idea of where to apply makeup these days?

Tracy: What're you talking about?

Jerry: Allow me to point out, as a casual observer of the male persuasion, that I believe that product is call 'lipstick', with emphasis on the word 'lip'! Why're you smearing it on your hand?

Tracy: How else am I supposed to know what it looks like?

Jerry: Oh, I don't know, maybe by the handy-dandy color display that it's lined up with?

Tracy (chuckling): That's not helpful! It always looks different on my lips.

Jerry: Come again? The color shown here, (pointing at the display) won't be the same as here (pointing at her mouth)?

Tracy: Not always.

Jerry (Grasping her hand, pointing to it, then her mouth): Than how does this rendition equal what it'll look like here? The skin on your hand is different from your lips! Just like the bottom of your foot, after walking in five-inch heels all day, is different from, say, your shapely belly, which I don't believe makes contact with the sidewalk too often! What kind of wizardry face paint are we dealing with here, Tracy?

Tracy: It just does.

Jerry: Oh, well, hey, far be it from me to suggest the only way to know what color your lipstick is going to be is by applying it to a body part that's almost two feet from where it's supposed to go! Please continue!

Tracy (smiling mischievously, holding the lipstick at chest level): We could always find out what it looks like by testing it on your pretty lips, Jerry?

Jerry (turning red from embarrassment, and backing up): Uuuhh, nooo thanks! You and the lab rats can keep your creams and chemicals, thankyouverymuch! I'll just be in the power tool department! I think I hear my masculinity crying out in need of being in a safe, manly, testosterone-charged environment, surrounded by steel hammers and nails and sharp implements that might cut or maim me if not probably used! Excuse me!

Jerry hurries over to a different part of the store, Tracy smiling at him, then turning her attention back to the salesgirl standing off to one side.



Steinbrenner is at his desk, as George pokes his head in from the door.

George: You wanted to see me, ?

Steinbrenner: Yes, George, yes! Come in, come in, ya big ol' raggamuffin, you! (George approaches Steinbrenner's desk, unsure why he's here, fearing he's in trouble.) Jeez, George, settle down! You're not in trouble! Nosirree! Not here in La Casa De La Steinbrenner! Not unless you killed that guy in Philadelphia I asked you to do last week?

George: Uh-

Steinbrenner: Kidding, my boy, kidding. Hey, I think I smell another calzone on your breath? Did you have a calzone, George? All that pepperoni and eggplant?

George: I-

Steinbrenner: Doesn't matter. Got stuck with peanut butter this morning, myself! But it's gourmet peanut butter! Can ya believe that? Freakin' gourmet! I doubt it, though! The stuff was made in Cumberland, Maryland! What's so gourmet about stinkin' Cumberland, right? Right! Anyways, back to business, George! (Slaps his desk with his hand multiple times) Back to business! Back to business!

George (pausing, confused, then backing out): Y-yes, sir.

Steinbrenner: OH! OH! Whooa-whoa-whoaaa, there, nelly-George! I almost forgot why I asked you to come here! Get back here! Stand on top of the 'X' I've got taped on the floor! (George does so, looking down at it, still confused) That's it! Right there! That's where I'm getting Wilhelm to build me one of those secret trap doors! Just like in 'Austin Powers'! Press a button here on my desk and va-shoomp! Down ya go into the Steinbrenner Dungeon! Well, not you, per se, George, but anybody that pisses me off! Like that guy in Philadelphia! Anyways, word is out that you and JFK were buddies! Is that true, Costanza?

George: Uh, sir, I was 4 years old when he was shot. Never met him. Admired him, but-

Steinbrenner: Oh, oh, yea, that's right! Your lack of hair confused me! Thought you were older than you are! Anyways, I know you and Alejandro Sanchez both went to John F. Kennedy High School when you were young and dangerous! Is that true?

George: Oh, uh, yes, sir, I did. And you mean, Sanchez, our Third Baseman went there, too?

Steinbrenner: He did, indeedy-do, Costanzachez. Costanjandro. What's yer name again? I'll call you 'George'! Love that name, love it! Less confusing that way! You know Wilhelm's middle name is also 'George'? Freakin' coincidence or what? Anyways, the point is, you both went to the same school, and now there's a big deal happening over there, so I made some teleophone calls and we're gonna have us a big ol' fashioned time capsule opening! How do ya like them apples, George?

George (turning white, gradually becoming panicked): A...time capsule, sir? The...time capsule from 25 years ago? Do-do you think that's such a good idea, ? After all-

Steinbrenner: It's a STUPENDOUS IDEA, George, because it's one of mine!

George: And fantastic it would be, if not for what, uh, horrible, er, nasty, scary things that could be in that time capsule, sir! It's been rotting underground for 25 years, it could have been eaten by worms and bugs and be all decayed and-

Steinbrenner: George! George, stop! You're bringing back memories of a bad plate of liver I once had in '88! The word is given and it's final! We're gonna have a really cool ceremony prior to our game against the Blue Jays on May 21st, and you and Sanchez are gonna be on the field, on hand to pull out all the groovy, hip-hop junk you nutty kids stuck in there! We'll have a few laughs, and kick the Jays' asses all the way back to their igloos! Got it! Good! Hey! How the hell did a guy with the name 'Alejandro Sanchez' ever get into a school called 'John F. Kennedy'? Was the Bay of Pigs for nothing? Was this a secret plot by Oliver Stone when he made the 'JFK' movie? What's the world coming to? Hey, when you were kids, did you and your friends used to call this Alejandro 'Al-e-JAN-dro', turning the 'J' into a real 'J' and not a soft 'H'? You kids were really funny back then! Cruel, heartless, spitting on a lonely, Cuban kid with your racist remarks, but what the hell? It was the Fifties, right? Although, how the hell Sanchez ever got through high school with that heavy Cuban accent is anybody's guess, right? And don't get me started on JFK's Massachusetts accent! Boy-oh-boy-oh-boy, does that take me back! Ya know I tried to fire Lou Piniella using a JFK accent, but it didn't work out too well! I spent a whole 10 minutes telling him, "You're fahred!", but he just stood there, looking all confused and such! Anyways, what're you standing there for smelling of calzone and Doctor Pepper? Go kill that guy in Philadelphia for me and get back to work! Seeya! Buh-Bye!

George slowly turns around, his face pale, his expression worried, and shuffles out of Steinbrenner's office like a convicted man walking towards the electric chair.



Jerry has a pair of high-power binoculars in his hands, and he's using them to spy on Tracy from twenty yards away, who's still at the cosmetics department, and still talking to the Salesgirl. The view is suddenly obscured by a dark shadow, so Jerry lowers the binoculars, and discovers a Salesman with a fake smile, less than two feet away from him looking down his nose at Jerry.

Salesman: Yes, the Celestial Skymaster Omega-Three binoculars are quite impressive, aren't they? 25 by 100 magnification, waterproof, adaptable to a tripod, and useful for star-gazing, bird watching, mountaineering-

Jerry (pretending to be interested, hefting them, examining them, and nodding politely): Oh? Really? Wow. A tripod, you say? Neat-oh.

Salesman: And on sale this week for just $349.95.

Jerry (Surprised and gently putting them back onto the display where he found them): Oh, okay, no thanks. Too rich for my blood!

Salesman: Then perhaps the Pentax 20 by 100 Alpha-7RS is more to your liking at just $239.95?

Jerry: You got anything with x-ray vision? 'Cause I been waiting for those buggers since I saw them advertised in a comic book back in the fifth grade!

Salesman: NO! Er, no, sir, we don't carry such things. Perhaps you'd like to enquire about such a device in Area 51? I understand they have a whole collection of high-power alien binoculars, suitable for spying on women at a distance!

Jerry (embarrassed): Okay, you got me. But I was just watching my girlfriend over at-

Salesman: Good-day, sir!

Jerry: No, really, she's been over there for 20 minutes with-

Salesman: Isaid'GoodDAY'toyousir!

Jerry slinks away, and seconds later the Salesman uses the Pentax 20 by 100 Alpha-7RS binoculars to watch him leave.


Jerry hesitates before returning to Tracy, picking up a camera in his hand, disinterested, before he notices the Salesman, who's now approaching him, as we can see by the moving Binocular-Shot. Jerry gasps in surprise and runs away, returning to Tracy.

She's still talking to the Salesgirl, who eventually leaves as she sees Jerry approach. He nods at her, and looks at something that's caught his eye off to his left. At a lipstick display, the model's face has been drawn on, giving her huge pink eyes and a goatee in red. He squints in revulsion and confusion at this, and says over his shoulder to the Salesgirl,


Jerry: Ya know, I saw a similar case of defacing like this when I visited the Louvre in Paris! Somebody had drawn a Groucho Marx moustache and glasses all over Da Vinci's Mona Lisa! Some say it was probably Picasso, but I've always held fast on the theory it was one of his mistresses! The Mona Lisa was defaced, after all, with L'Oreal lip-gloss, and not your standard burnt sienna artist's paint!

The Salesgirl looks at him strangely, and leaves to attend to another customer.

Tracy: Okay, I'm finished here. Good timing.

Jerry (checking his watch): 'Good timing'? 'The Godfather' took up less time than the amount of shopping you've done here in this one department! What did you do? Buy shares in Revlon and Maybelline for good measure?

Tracy (sighing, but still smiling as she sees that he's just kidding): You won't be complaining when you see me wearing what I bought! Then this'll all be worth it.

Tracy wraps her arms around him, and holds him close, giving him a kiss, melting his impatience.

Jerry: So we're done here! Now we can-

Tracy: Oh, we're not done yet, Jer! Just this section. Let's go over to the shoe department now- I need some new pumps for next weekend.

Jerry's shoulders sink, his forehead creases with anxiety, he shakes his head incredulously, and he pretends to be getting close to tears. Tracy notices this, and pats his cheek.

Tracy: Better turn that frown upside down, sweety, or else I'll paint a smile on you with this!

Threatened with lipstick again, Jerry forces a fake smile, and lets Tracy lead him to another lady's department.


The sporting goods department Salesman is tracking Jerry and Tracy leaving the Cosmetics Department, only to have his view obscured by a dark shadow.


An older man, a store Supervisor, stares hard at the Salesman, who nervously puts down the binoculars, embarrassed.

Supervisor: Jaeger, what did we agree on last week? No more spying on the Men's Underwear Department!



Jerry and George are at their usual table in the middle of eating lunch together.

George: I'm screwed, Jerry! Royally, irrevocably, insidiously, Big Time screwed!

Jerry (distracted, examining his sandwich): Uh-huh. I think I got a cucumber instead of a pickle with my sandwich.

George: My ugly past is about to rear it's ugly head, Jer, and life as I know...will soon cease to exist. Relationship George, Independent George, Yankee George...all ka-blooey!

Jerry: Who confuses a cucumber with pickle? They're both green on the outside, but does anyone ever confuse the Green Lantern with the Green Arrow? I say, "No, sir! They do not!" Waitasecond! (looks around the crowded restaurant) This means someone here is digging into a garden salad with a rogue pickle inside! My pickle! It's unnatural! It's diabolical!

George: Right, right, I'm crying a Niagara Falls load of tears! Can we focus on me for a minute here?

Jerry (disinterested): All right, all right, Biff. It's not like we ever discuss your life in detail! (Rolls his eyes)

George (gives Jerry a sneer, but continues): So I just found out that that stupid time capsule that we contributed to in high school is about to be re-opened!

Jerry: Uh-huhhh. Yea. That is the third sign of the Apocalypse, isn't it?

George: No, it's worse! Allow me to explain. Back in those days, those crazy, care-free, albeit, savage peer pressure-controlled days back at John F. Kennedy High School, the Student Council, of which I was apart of, got together and proposed the creation and burying of a JFK school time capsule, which was not to be opened for 25 years.

Jerry: You know what else happened 25 years ago? The Great Cucumber Takeover Of All That Should Be Pickle-Related! But do go on.

George: What I'm about to tell you, stays here! In the vault, triple-locked, to be uttered to NO ONE, EVER! Not even your deathbed, right?

Jerry: Unlike my discovery of the Cadbury Secret and attempts to have Dateline NBC do a story on it, I shall remain as tight-lipped as an Aldebaran Shell-Mouth!

George's face becomes blurred as the usual Flash-Back effect takes place.



We see a trio of laughing, arrogant 18-year old high school students, dressed in '70's fashions, and looking down at George, but from his point of view through his glasses. Two have curly-haired perms, one has a feeble attempt at a moustache and too many gold chains, and all three have bad acne. They're laughing at him, and giving him the occasional shove- the hellish memory of peer pressure from bigger kids than him.

George (voice-over): It was a school council meeting where it all went down. Donna Pantalione and Bettina Whatsherface had left, leaving just us guys in the room; Duke Duggan, 'Wookie' Weaver, and Tommy Packer. Buncha jack-asses! Always thinking they were so big 'cause Duggan could drive his Mom's car to school! What a jerk! But I digress. The guys had a stupid, idiotic idea for a submission into the time capsule, and like a worm, I agreed! I had to, I tell ya! Duggan's mother supposedly had influence at Binghamton University, and Duke was positive that he could get me in there...if only I could do this one stupid, stupid thing.

The somewhat distorted view gets even worse as "Wookie' Weaver pulls off George's glasses and puts them on himself. Shot of extremely blurry faces laughing. The glasses return, clearing up the view-point, but they're placed at an awkwardly at an on George's nose, so half the screen if distorted and half blurry.

Jerry (Voice-Over): And what was this 'stupid, stupid thing'? Or as I like to call it, "George's Usual Mistake On Thursday'?

George (voice-over): I was forced to give them a...a DNA sample!



Jerry's expression is one of horrified I-don't-want-to-know variety

Jerry: George...tell me you didn't...?

George: Of course not! Not exactly! Not what they thought, and certainly not what you're thinking! But I made them think what they thought was what they wanted and no, it doesn't matter what they thought or you think, because everyone's only thought when that damned time capsule is opened up is going to be 'EEEWWWW!'

Jerry: I'm still lost. It was easier discussing my Pickle Predicament!

George: Look, this is the truth! They thought it would be really funny to put a test tube of my, you know, a sample of my stuff, in with the rest of the clean, family-safe items they'd planned to put inside the capsule, and none of us thought the damned thing would ever be opened up anyway! 25 years seemed like a century to us back then! And before you ask, no, it's not real, it's just dish-washing liquid! A small vial, that's all! I had to do it, Jerry, I had to! Like I said, Dugganguaranteed me that his mother would pull some strings and get me into Binghamton University if I went through with this!

Jerry: You never went to Binghamton!

George: I know!

Jerry: You don't even know how to get to Binghamton!

George: I knowww!

Jerry: Waitasecond, wait! 'Shirley Duggan'? She didn't work at Binghamton University, she worked as an assistant manager at that Arby's you and I used to eat at!

George: As I said, I knowwww! At least, NOW I know! Those sonsabitches were all in on it, just to embarrass me! The guys, not the girls. Donna Pantalione found out later and told me about the creep's plans! Even if the time capsule was never opened, they still had a big laugh at my expense!

Jerry: Donna found out? That must have been embarrassing!

George (breaking out into a little smile): Not too badly. She felt so bad about the trick on me that we made out on her back porch!

Jerry: Well! Quite the stud-muffin, spreading your seed hither and nither! So where's this time capsule of ill-repute going to be re-opened?

George: Yankee freaking Stadium! In two days! I checked- it's already been dug up, and it'll be home plate!

Jerry: And everyone's going to know it's your goop by...?

George: By the stupid label on it with MY name written in big black letters on it! (George pauses, becomes wide-eyed, and covers his face with his hands, leaning forward and placing his head face-down on the table) OhGodohGodooohmyyyGod! I just remembered something else that's going to identify the fake 'sample' as mine!

Jerry: Which is?

George (muffled from the table): I think I put my Social Insurance Number on it, too!

Jerry (picking up his sandwich): Yep. You're screwed, old friend. Been nice knowing you! (Takes a bite and chews, then puts it back) Okay, now all I'm tasting is zucchini!

George (muffled from the table) Unless of course... (He looks up, staring Jerry straight in the eye with a pleading expression on his face)

Jerry (hesitating before realization dawns on him): NO. No, no, no, no way! I'm not involved!

George: Jerry, you've got to save me from this humiliation! We have to track down that time capsule, intercept it from reaching Yankee Stadium, and throw away that test tube with my name on it before my world, my life is destroyed! It's simple! We can do this!

Jerry: What is this, the plot of 'Star Trek Four The Voyage Home'? Going back to stop a disaster from the past? First of all, your test tube might not even be in the capsule. Secondly, what you're asking sounds suspiciously like theft! And thirdly, my bespectacled friend, you panicked like a chicken hopped-up on caffeine when you planned that mission to replace your girlfriend's answering machine tape! You could barely go through with it! What makes you think you can-

George: What? Are you admitting to me that you're a wuss? A big wussy wuss? Wussy J. Seinfeld? Wussy McWussy-

Jerry: Not gonna happen this time, Georgie-boy! I've lowered my wuss-accusation tolerance to imperceptible levels! Call me whatever you want, but I'm not helping you commit theft!

Kramer (suddenly flopping over the back of Jerry's seat, in the adjoining booth) I'll do it, buddy!

Jerry and George stare at him, having never noticed him all the time they were eating.

George: How long have you been there? How much have you heard?

Kramer: All of it, Sunshine. And more! (Taps Jerry on the shoulder) Hey, pal, keep your bean intact at a respectable level, willya? This whole time I've been assaulted by numerous silent toots on your part!

Jerry cringes and turns red from embarrassment, as George looks on, suddenly not feeling so bad.

Jerry (looking back) We've been here over a half hour, when did you show up? How come we didn't see you?

Kramer: Oh, uh, I've got a broken ankle, but I'm like a Slithering Ninja when I want to be! I just pulled myself into this booth from the kitchen. Giuseppe's making a special raisin omelet for me!

George: you're in, Kramer?

Kramer: You got it, pal! Don't let this little injury fool ya! I'm as fit as-

Kramer slides down suddenly from his booth seat when he let's go of Jerry's shoulder, flopping about, hitting his head on the table, his feet flying up into the air, slamming into an adjoining table occupied by other patrons, and his whole body collapsing onto the floor in a heap. Jerry and George jump out of their seats to help him, but it's too late.

Kramer (crying in pain): Ooooh, momma!


Jerry and Kramer are sitting on the couch, with Kramer's crutches propped up on the side of the stools over by the kitchen area. Both of Kramer's feet are bandaged, propped up on the coffee table, as he sips on a drink with a twisting-turning Crazy Straw, his face is content and carefree, as he releases the straw momentarily, then tries to grab it again with his mouth. He's like a fish trying to gulp air, missing the straw, and poking himself in the eye. He giggles and leans back, so Jerry helps him out by grasping the straw and lining it back up with Kramer's mouth. Kramer smiles as he sips his drink, giving Jerry a 'thank you' wink.

George watches this, glaring at the two of them.

George (irritated): long are you going to be on crutches...with TWO BROKEN ANKLES...Cosmo?

Kramer (releasing the straw and giggling) About five weeks! Heeeeheeehee!

George (growing more annoyed): Little too jacked-up on pain medication, don't you think?

Kramer: Mmmaybe, Mmmister Marbles! Heeheeehee!

George: Great! Just bloody GREAT! He was my one chance to save my life as I know it! Unle-

Jerry: Not...a...chance! Sorry!

George: Yea, right! 'Sorry'! Not as sorry as I'll be! Stupid Duggan and Wookie are gonna die laughing at me! They're gonna be there, you know!

Kramer: WWWWooookieee! (Imitating Chewbacca from 'Star Wars'): Argggrraaarrraaghaaahh (starts coughing and choking on some of his drink that goes down the wrong way, so Jerry pats his back to help him) Cough!cough!cough! Ack!

George (shaking his head and covering his face with his hands): My hero! Yea. Right.

Jerry's buzzer alerts him to a visitor, so he answers it.

Jerry; Hello?

Elaine (voice-over) It's Elaine!

Tracy (voice-over) And Tracy!

Kramer (with a high-pitched voice): Aawwk-warrrd!

Jerry: Come on up! (buzzes in the two ladies, and stands by the door, after he unlocks it, and opens it slightly) What're you talking about, Kramer? Elaine and I are long past the point where she has a problem with me seeing somebody new. We broke up years ago, and the two of us have moved on, and dated lots of people since then- you know that.

Kramer: Ooooh, yeeeaaah! You two are in a regular Dating Space Race, you are! Kinda going through the New York phone book at this rate, huh? What're you guys up to now? Have you reached the letter 'K' yet?

Jerry: Kramer-

Kramer (to George, who's still covering his face): Oooo! Touched a nerve! Elaine's up to 'K', and you're falling behind, making it up to just 'F', huh?

Elaine and Tracy show up, and greetings are exchanged with everyone present. Tracy kisses Jerry, who wipes off the lipstick smeared on his lips behind Tracy's back, grossed out as if he's just kissed his aunt on the mouth. Elaine smiles at this, but doesn't let Tracy know what she just saw.

Tracy: Sorry, Jerry, I gotta make this quick, but I've got a really great shoot to do for Maxim Magazine at 4, so I can't make our dinner date tonight.

Jerry: Oh, really? That's too bad, because I wanted to take you to that new Italian place on West 38th! I starved myself like a model just to prepare myself for their seafood lasagna!

Tracy: Sorry, Jerry, but this photo shoot will pay good money! I might even get on the cover if the editor likes my photo spread.

Kramer (chuckling to himself, still fighting to grasp his straw): Sp-read! She said heeeheehee 'spread'! Heeheehee!

Tracy: What's with him?

Jerry: Ignore him, he's delirious! He's so hopped-up on painkillers he probably thinks he's flying the space shuttle!

Tracy: Okay. Gotta go! So sorry, hon! (She kisses Jerry warmly again, smearing his lips once again with red lipstick. She starts to leave, and he begins to reach up to wipe it off, but quickly lowers her hand as she turns around) I just remembered I have a facial for Thursday morning, so why don't we get together for lunch after that! My treat!

Jerry: Great! Wonderful! Okay!

Tracy opens the door to leave, Jerry raises his hand to wipe the lipstick off his mouth again, but quickly shoves both hands into his pockets and she turns around once more.

Tracy (giggling with expectation and crossing her fingers): Wish me luck on the cover!

Jerry: Good luck!

Elaine: Lotsa luck!

George (muffled): Wood wuck.

Kramer (spraying his drink from his mouth onto his lap): Spreaaaaddd! Heeheehee!

Tracy hesitates as she gives Kramer a What-the-heck look, blows Jerry a kiss, and he catches it in mid-air. After she's closed his door, he uses both hands to rapidly, manically wipe his mouth.

Jerry: Get-this-stuff-off-of-meee! Ech!

Elaine (producing a tissue from her purse and helping him to wipe off the lipstick, before he takes over himself): up...with all that eyeshadow?

Jerry: And lipstick, and mascara, and eyeliner, and God knows what other powders and paints are on the rest of her body! (He rushes over to the sink in his bathroom, but leaves the door open)

Elaine: She wears so much eyeshadow, she makes Robin the Boy Wonder's black mask look like dental floss by comparison! Hey! Maybe she's wearing so much because she's a superhero!

Jerry (returning from washing, and wiping his hands on a towel): Yea, probably calls herself 'Super Mascara Maiden'! We spent the better part of yesterday shopping for just the right color, with just the right amount of glitter, at just the right price. Felt like I was living through the Spanish Inquisition of Makeup! (Imitating Tracy with a high-pitched voice) 'How does this one look? Do my eyes match this color? How much is this one? Maybe it's on sale at Sears? I've never tried that brand before!' Oy!

Elaine: I thought you preferred women with less makeup- the natural look?

Jerry: For my natural urges, yes. But she's been stirring up some extremely enjoyable UN-natural urges in me!

Elaine (shakes her head, unconvinced): Still don't get it.

Jerry: Perhaps you failed to register the moniker, 'Maxim Magazine model', Ms. Benes?

Elaine: Alright, alright, I get it. Now, about me...(Elaine notices George, who's still hunched over, his face in his hands) What's with him?

Jerry: Unlike Doctor Bruce Banner and his science experiment gone terribly wrong, our Georgie faked a fake science experiment, and people are going to find out he's a human dynamo, at which point his life will go horribly wrong. Again.

Elaine: Oh. Okay, whatever. Feast your eyes...on this!

Elaine reaches into the bag she's been holding all this time, and pulls out a square red and orange pillow with a hole on the bottom, with an rippled rim around the circumference. She's gritting her teeth, waiting for the inevitable wise-cracks, but Jerry just examines it, and shrugs his shoulders.

Jerry: What is it?

Elaine: What is it? I'll tell you what it is; it's called 'The Raviohat'!

Jerry: 'The Ravio'...what?

Elaine: RAVI-O-HAT! And what's likely to be the downfall of and my career!

Jerry: I still don't understand...?

Elaine angrily yanks the hat out of Jerry's hand and jams it on top of his head. He looks like he's wearing a red and orange pillow on his head. George looks up and stares, open-mouthed at the stupid-looking hat, while Kramer tries to look at Jerry, upside down, backwards over the edge of the couch.

Elaine: You see? You see now?

Jerry (walking back into the washroom to look in the mirror) What the hell is this? Are you crazy? (comes back out into the living room) I look like I'm wearing a giant piece of ravioli on my head (yanks off the silly-looking hat and hands it back to her. Elaine stuffs it back into her bag)

Elaine: Duuuhh! That's exactly what it's supposed to look like, Jerry! It's exactly what I ordered the Headware Department to BULK!...and have them delivered to my office this morning!

Jerry (squinting at her, incredulous): What, have you lost your mind? Nobody's going to be caught dead wearing that freaky monstrosity!

Elaine: I knowww!

Jerry: They're as crappy as the Urban Sombrero!

Elaine: I had a terrible, boring date a couple nights ago, got juiced-up on Peach Schnapps, and in a drunken stupor, I looked down at my ravioli, and thought I was having a brainstorm! I thought it was such a great idea that I stepped away from my geeky date, phoned up some people at , and slurred instructions to them to make these Crimes Against Humanity! One-THOUSAND of them, Jer! What am I supposed to do with all this idiotic-looking pasta hats? Sell them door to door? When finds out how much money I wasted producing these without his authority, he'll fire me, or at the very least wring my neck! I'm so screwed that-

Jerry: Tut-TUT! (places a silencing finger to her lips, and points back at a slouching, miserable George) He beat you to it. Sorry. Only one Royal Screw-Up per week please!



It's two days later and Jerry and Kramer are watching the pre-Yankee's game. Jerry hands Kramer a drink (but no crazy straw), and Kramer is off the delirium-inducing pain medication.

Kramer: I love time capsules! my friend, Bob Sakamano, and I buried all kinds of them all across the city about 10 years ago, one a week, for 52 weeks of the year! Yeah, we labelled them with that radioactive patch so nobody would touch them if they dug them up by accident! Man, I tell ya, I doubt most of those clocks are still ticking, but if just a few are dug up by accident, well, I think the Kramer-Sakamano Time Capsule Project will be on the news!

Jerry: Yeah, it'll be newsworthy, alright. Just remember where your Airmiles card is- you might be needing it for a last-minute flight to Brazil! When am I going to meet this 'Bob Sakamano', anyway? I'm starting to think he's your imaginary, childhood friend!

Kramer: He's said the same thing about you and George, and Elaine.

Jerry: Oh, yeah?

Kramer: You better believe, Poncho!

Jerry: Of course, if he's imaginary, it's really you thinking the same thing about me and George and Elaine.

Kramer: He's reall! Real, I tellya!

Jerry: Awright, awright. He's real.

Kramer: That's what I'm saying. Actually, you've probably met him at one of your stand-up acts! He goes to comedy clubs all the time!

Jerry: I suppose he likes baseball, too?

Kramer: Right again, bambino! He's even in the clothing industry!

Jerry stares at Kramer, wondering how Sakamano just happens to have his foot in on all of their friend's professions, but Kramer isn't saying anything else.


A large crowd of people is present near Home Plate, including George, his boss Mr. Wilhelm, New York Yankee Alejandro Sanchez, Duke Duggan, and Tommy Packer. Duggan and Packer have aged, with Duggan now as bald as George, and Packer about 150 pounds heavier than his old high school days. They're laughing between themselves, and pointing at George.

Duggan: Hey! Costanza! Ever have some test tube babies? I know a good place that has some prime, teen-aged baby-making power if you're running out! HEEHEEHEH!

Packer: Hey! Cantstandya! I'm taping this at home! Might even send a copy to Donna Pantalione! HAHAHA!

Duggan: Hey, Costanzblah! Ever get Donna Pantalione knocked up? Oh, yea! That's right! You were high and dry by the time you got to First Base! Yee-hahaha!

George: Yea, yea, you're a regular Smoothers Brothers over there! Where's your idiot friend, 'Wookie' Weaver? Bumping his big fat forehead against the front door frame of The Jerk Store? HA-HA!

Duggan and Packer suddenly lose all humor, and just stare at him.

Duggan: 'Wookie' died at a Cat Show in '94 that went very,very wrong.

George (loses his smile, and shrugs to himself, and looks at Sanchez): A wookie taken down by a buncha pussy cats! Looks like 'The Force' wasn't with him! Heh.

Elaine is in the stands, holding a display box of her Raviohats, nearly tripping down the steps as she desperately tries to get rid of them.

Elaine: Raviohats! Get yer Raviooooohats here! Just five dollars! A bargain price for a exclusive! Be the first on your block to wear the fashionable Raviohat! You're not a true fan without your very own Raviohat!

Male Yankee Fan: Hey, lady, get lost, willya? Nobody wants to wear a stupid pillow on their head! It looks like a freakin' glob of pasta!

Elaine: It's not a pillow, it's a Ravio-

Yankee Fan: Who cares? What's next? Gonna get people to wear glasses with frames made out of an O'Henry chocolate bar? Gitouttahere!

The fans revolt, and amid tossed popcorn and shouting, Elaine stumbles back up the stairs, leaving that section of Yankee Stadium, as Wilhelm steps forward to the microphone.

Wilhelm: Hello, and (pausing as he creates loud, ear-splitting feedback) Wel-welcome to the New York Yankees and Yankee Stadium! Before we begin our exciting game against the Toronto Blue Jays, we have a special treat in store for all of you! A couple of our employees, namely Third Baseman Alejandro Sanchez, and Assistant to the Travelling Secretary, Mr. George Cantstandya...(the crowd murmurs, Duggan and Packer laugh hysterically to themselves again, and George shrinks from embarrassment)...or rather, Costanza...attended the great New York City high school, John F. Kennedy High! In 1977 they buried a time capsule, and for your enjoyment, we've arranged for it to be opened and witnessed by you, the incredible futuristic citizens of 2002...right here! Right now!

George (stepping forward): ! , please! Let me-

Wilhelm: George! George, get back! Stand on the side-lines, and behave yourself, willya? Stop trying to hog my spotlight! I'm on live TV here!

George steps back, but his anxiety is rising and obvious, even to the point of considering running away. Duggan and Packer can barely contain their suppressed chuckling, while other representatives of JFK High, including Sanchez, are calm. Wilhelm lifts off the grimy lid of the metal box, blows dust off the top, and gets some on his suit. Coughing, he accidentally drops the metal lid on his foot, making him bounce around in pain, while wiping off the dirt from his suit, the fans in the stands laughing at his antics. He returns to the time capsule with a limp and the squealing microphone.

Wilhelm: Haha. Little fun there. Let's see what's first to see the light of day in the 21st century! (Wilhelm reaches in without looking inside and pulls out a book) The 1977 Year Book! Fascinating stuff! I wonder if they had color photography back then! Heheh! Next...(He reaches in again, even as George uses a hanky to wipe the perspiration off his glistening forehead. Wilhelm pulls out an 45 rpm single record) And this would be...'Don't Give Up On Us, Baby', by... David Soul. Isn't that nice? Never heard of him, but I'm sure he's still producing rock and roll albums!Oh, very nice, very nice; here we have a men's exercise magazine from way back when! Perhaps an instruction book from the Phys-Ed Department? (Wilhelm pulls out a magazine, mostly filled with photos) The February, 1977 issue of...'Manly Macho Men'! (He opens it up and checks out the contents) Which seems to beOHMYGOD! (Wilhelm crumples up the gay male pornographic magazine, and throws it at George, who fumbles with it then throws it away, much to the barely-controlled laughter shared between Duggan and Packer) Oh. This looks interesting! Perhaps a science experiment result?

Wilhelm reaches in in slow motion, and all sound disappears as we hear George's heart beat rising faster and faster. He's sweating bullets, Duggan and Packer look on with barely restrained expectation, and the packed Yankee stadium fans are looking on. Even the big screen usually showing statistics and replays, has a close-up of Wilhelm's slow-moving arm reaching in. An interior shot of Jerry's apartment shows Jerry and Kramer watching the events unfold on TV. They lean in, in slow motion, their mouths open with fearful expectation, with Kramer spilling his drink on his lap in slow motion, taking several seconds to react to the cold liquid on his lap. Elaine is fighting in slow motion with a woman who doesn't want to buy one of her Raviohats, even though Elaine is shoving one at her face. The lady throws an arm wildly at her, and 20 Raviohats go flying into the stands in slow motion, nearly causing a panic as they rain down on unsuspecting baseball fans. George can't stand the pain in his racing heart, and takes a couple steps forward to intercept Wilhelm, even as a test-tube is slowly brought into view. Third Baseman Sanchez, grabs George by the collar, George's feet swing up into the air as he's yanked back, and falls to the grass on his back, still in slow motion.

Wilhelm: And this is a science project by...oh, wait, there's more! Perhaps the main part of the science experiment from 1977?

Wilhelm sets aside the test-tube without reading George's name on it. George props himself up on his elbows to watch as Wilhelm retrieves a science beaker with a plug on its top, half filled with about a pint of a milky mixture inside it. Wilhelm holds the artifact proudly with both hands, brings it closer to his face to read the inscription aloud,

Wilhelm: DNA sample...Alejandro Sanchez...May 4th...1977!

Yankee Stadium breaks out into a huge cheer at what they perceive as Sanchez's amazing sample of his sex drive, to which he finally breaks out into a huge smile, and doffs his cap at the crowd, drinking in the adulation. Wilhelm realizes what he's holding, and with a disgusted grimace, gently sets aside the beaker, uncomfortable, and annoyed that he's the victim of several practical jokes, while Duggan and Packer are still laughing uncontrollably from their high school scheme. Sanchez looks down at George, and shrugs, explaining,

Sanchez: How do you think I got to stay in the U.S.? Duke Duggan's father worked at Immigration!


Jerry does his stand-up act:

Jerry: You know that old crappy stuff in your attic or garage that you wish would just disappear on its own one day? It could have been fascinating, exciting artifacts from the past, if only you'd been smart enough to bury them in your backyard! It's all in the perspective. For example, that 33 rpm album of Gloria Gaynor from 1979 that's still sitting in your den? Lame! Get with the times, ya weirdo! CD's! Music videos on on your computer! That same 33 rpm album of Gloria Gaynor from 1979 locked away in a time capsule and opened up on live, national TV? Very, very cool! Awesome, man! Oooo, look! A primitive, low-tech, but incredibly interesting method of musical recording! Virtually produced by cavemen, but a testament to Gloria Gaynor; I-will-survive! Yes, you will! Another example; Old Uncle Ed's pristine copy of the New York Post in a plastic bag, from May 3, 1979 sitting in his basement? Garbage! A fire hazard! A sure sign that he's a crazy hoarder! Throw it away, Uncle Ed, ya dumb bastard! Get the guys in white coats and throw him in a home! Now compare that with a time capsule's ratty, torn, yellowed copy of that same New York Post from May 3, 1979...tragic! Ooooh! A loss to society and history, itself! A crime perpetrated against a valiant attempt to remind the universe that we humans walked this earth and existed way back then! And because the yellowed comics section is torn, we'll never know if Lucy did in fact, let Charlie Brown kick that darn football! Oh, the loss to history! Oh, the humanity!



As the credits roll, we see George hunched forward at his desk, his fingers linked before him, staring intently at Third Baseman Alejandro Sanchez, his face deadly serious, frowning. Sanchez is trying to ignore the hard stare, sweating from nervousness and intimidation, and squirming in his seat in front of George's desk, crossing his legs to the left, then the right, but unable to get comfortable. He looks up at George, and finally breaks down.

Sanchez: Okay, man, you win! You win! It was actually liquid dishwasher soap!

George (standing up, smiling, and pointing an accusing finger at Sanchez): AH-HAAAA! I KNEW IT!