Hmm... I've just discovered something interesting posting to all the other fandoms involved. I was almost sure The Ghost & Mrs. Muir fans would be the ones to review first. Oddly, no. It was The Addams Family guest. Hmm... ! I think we could have a little fun with this, oui?

So... which fans of which fandoms shall speak up next? I'm hoping for The Ghost and Mrs. Muir, but we shall see, shan't we? ;)

Summary:

In this wrap up of the Adam story line and dream curse, Mrs. Johnson explains to her out of town friend, what all has been going on. Since Dark Shadows has so much reincarnation hinted at, it's likely possible Mrs. Johnson's old pet came back as the familiar fellow here.

I know the time line is a bit off but the alpha version was done with a lack of tools and from memory only, so I was surprised I got it all this accurate. In my version Adam doesn't come into contact with Sam Evans or Willie Loomis. He does still lock up Carolyn, previously, in the root cellar, which comes into importance later on. How Victoria and Peter end up where they do is up for guess work. Considering Victoria can obviously do The Time Warp perhaps that's how. Still, the reason behind her getting a phone call from 1960's Collinwood to a decades later Twin Peaks is up to you. I kept them present day with intentions to clear up the the obvious puzzle of her relationship to Elizabeth.

The Pit of Ultimate Dark Shadows: Episode Three:The Strega of Brooklyn

[Pit of Ultimate Darkness Theme]

MILLIGAN: Good evening and I must assure you this IS THEE Pit of Ultimate Darkness. If you remember I once had to admit that it was the Pit of PENULTIMATE Darkness but that pit that was slightly darker recently changed ownership and became Jack's Fry House so we are back in the ULTIMATE play! We are evil, evil, EVIL! I am your host, Sir Simon Milligan. To assist me is MANSERVANT HECUBUS!

HECUBUS: (rises under Milligan's hand) Here I am!

AUDIENCE: (applause) YAY! Hecubus!

MILLIGAN: AH! (gasps and regains composure) Manservant Hecubus, ladies and gentleman.

HECUBUS: I am ready to serve you master. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand Satan!

MILLIGAN: (under his breath) Yes, we knew that already, Hecubus.

HECUBUS: Are we ready to return to Collinsport, Master?

MILLIGAN: Well, duh! Is it not the home of total and uncomplicated evil?

HECUBUS: Uncomplicated? It's the most complicated domicile I think has ever graced the airwaves.

MILLIGAN: This is true. And now we must introduce you to the state of Collinsport in the entirety that we know of. Victoria Winters, who once introduced the program, has returned from 1795 and is learning to use a modern lavatory once again. Roger has received a late night telephone call from a mysterious Tarot reader, and there are guests at the Old House that continue to gulp down cups of coffee in attempts to relieve themselves of the dreadful insomnia that plagues them world without end. Meanwhile at Wyndcliff, Willie Loomis is completely absorbed in his new 666 piece jigsaw puzzle of a cloud.

WILLIE: YES! YES! YES! I have completed it! I rule the Sanatorium.

MILLIGAN: Willie, shhh! I wish to have one more blessed moment with my lovely portrait of… wait… where did it go?

HECUBUS: Hee hee hee!

MILLIGAN: What? Again? What do you have against me anyway? Where is that painting of Angelique I've been worshipping with such villainous zest?

HECUBUS: Oh… Mr. Roger Collins seemed to want it, Master. I didn't have much choice in the matter.

MILLIGAN: Hecubus! That was an antique!

HECUBUS: No, Master, it was actually purchased on the roadside—

MILLIGAN: Hush, Hecubus!

HECUBUS: Next to a barn with a rambunctious collection of livestock… one of which was a goat who was preparing to nibble on the corner of the frame.

MILLIGAN: HA! And he didn't get it, did he? I did! (miffed) Though now it's gone…

HECUBUS: Well, you can simply visualize her amidst your shrine, Master. You've still got all the candles glowing bright. I'm sure her spirit is there.

MILLIGAN: BAH! Well, I won't compel anyone with the Sleep-of-Ages tonight! I've certainly lost the mood!

HECUBUS: Yes, Master…

MILLIGAN: In any case, my portrait will have less bearing on the looks of our stunningly evil Angelique, who seemed to find a way to allure Roger Collins under the guise of short, quirky swirls of black hair instead of blonde. She also altered her name to Cassandra Blair and by this time is Mrs. Roger Collins anyway. My, that gorgeous dame does get around.

HECUBUS: She still hasn't got around to you, Master.

MILLIGAN: (miffed) Don't remind me… At any rate, it turns out that she was a student of the be'monocle'd man of study, Professor T. Eliot Stokes. He happens to be a miraculous descendant of the Ben Stokes mentioned in episode two of our pit here.

HECUBUS: Ah, yes… he's not feeling so good about being the go between of our beloved witch to that homestead, and may be seen helping our residents to make up for the trouble of his wayward student.

MILLIGAN: And now! To ignite our portal back into this beguiled and beguiling town… we shall entrance our listeners with an essence of hypnotic music…

[Record skips and then "The Stripper" begins.]

MILLIGAN: (aghast) wha- what's going on? Those aren't my theta waves! Hecubus! What have you done?

HECUBUS: (monotone) I'm under the influence of a higher master, Master. And now I will remove my… I mean… I mean, I will alter the sounds you hear.

[Bubbling liquid noises and high pitched, semi-evil laughter, a collection of gremlins and demons.]

MILLIGAN: Ladies and Gentlemen! The Dark Lord is blessing us!

HECUBUS: No, master. He's merely… tuned in!

MILLIGAN: HAIL-

[click, click]

GRIZZLY VOICE: Oops! Dropped my remote! Now I have to switch it back by hand… (fumbling, various small objects falling over)

[click, click]

MILLIGAN: You must always embrace the hellfire, hellfire, HELLFIRE!

GRIZZLY VOICE: Terrific! Great stuff! At last, a show for ME! A Show that speaks to ME! (shuffle) Oh! Golden Girls…

[click, click]

SOPHIA: Blanche… you're loose!

[ribald laughter from audience]

ROSE: You know I've been loose myself at times.

SOPHIA: Yeah… in your HEAD!

[more live studio laughter]

DOROTHY: Ma! We've gone through half of the blueberry, pumpkin, chocolate, raspberry, rhubarb cheesecake. Were you going to get to your story or NOT?

SOPHIA: Don't rush me! I was waiting for my medication to kick in.

[light laughter from audience]

BLANCHE: Well, I tell you, Sophia, I need a good friendship story. I've been without a date for two whole days!

SOPHIA: Here ya, go. I've got a date for you. PICTURE IT: Collinsport, Maine… 1968… or 69, I'm not sure. I'm not seeing my best friend Esther so much so I take a trip by train to a place where all my cares become pointless after discovering the dramatic details of the rich snobs my friend works for.

[scene altering music, choo-choo of a train melds into the sounds of sea waves and the Dark Shadows theme music. Then a *thunk, thunk thunk* on the door knocker of the Collinwood Estate door. Creaking door opening.]

MRS. JOHNSON: (pleased) Sophia!?

SOPHIA: Gabby! It is so good to see you!

MRS. JOHNSON: (happily) Oh my, I haven't heard anyone call me that nickname for ages! Come in, come in!

SOPHIA: Hey, you've got the best gossip and tell it. What d'ya think I come all the way out here from Brooklyn for? It gets my mind off of my own problems to hear about the people you work for.

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, I must say, you've picked a good time. Everyone is either out or busy. Let's head to the kitchen.

[footsteps, doors creaking]

SOPHIA: Look at this kitchen, it's marvelous.

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, yes. I've had to learn a lot over these new fangled machines. Have a seat and I'll put the coffee on the percolator.

SOPHIA: That will be music to my ears. That instant stuff is a joke!

MRS. JOHNSON: I know! I mean if you can't get better it'll do, but really…

SOPHIA: I had enough of that stuff on the train… well! Actually at the station.

MRS. JOHNSON: (heaving a sit down sigh) Well, you remember that Jeff Clark I wrote to you about?

SOPHIA: Yes, and don't worry, I always use those pages to start the pilot light, so no one knows.

MRS. JOHNSON: Thank you, my dear. Anyway, Jeff Clark…

SOPHIA: Who could forget? No one obviously had "previous life" so clearly etched on his forehead!

MRS. JOHNSON: Well! He finally came to terms with being Peter Bradford from 1795.

SOPHIA: Oh, good! How'd it happen?

MRS. JOHNSON: You know that doctor-lady we've harboured here who pretended to be a historian? Well she goes around with a glittery medallion trying to hypnotize people right and left. She was trying to get him to forget his work with that Dr. Lang and somehow she goofed. He remembers everything WITH all the details precise as they could BE! Not quite like that Bridey Murphy stuff!

SOPHIA: My goodness! So did Victoria and Peter get married?

MRS. JOHNSON: If they have, it wasn't here! Bad luck this place is for them. I told them to head out of Collinsport before anything else happened.

SOPHIA: Wise woman.

MRS. JOHNSON: Thank you, I do pride myself on speaking my mind WHEN the time presents itself. I packed their suitcases myself.

SOPHIA: Good for you.

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, I've got to be good for something around here. Picking up after the Collins' is a thankless and never-ending task. But the pay is good. Beat's scrapin' a grill all day.

SOPHIA: (knowingly) I hear ya. How about Roger's new wife?

MRS. JOHNSON: Ugh! It's so pathetic. Mr. Collins got that telephone call from a Tarot reader to leave town and find love and voom, he comes home married to "Madam Slick" with some of the loudest clothes I've ever seen. As if that and dark curls are going to distract anyone. She puts on doe-eyes, but I swear that every single member of this community knows EXACTLY who she really is and what she's about!

SOPHIA: It's incredible how she pretends. You can tell something is off by the way she acts about it. It's a dead giveaway… just like when my Dorothy tried to explain why she was going to marry that yutz of a son-in-law I have now. How is that Professor Stokes coming along?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh! He is simply a dream-boat. Takes command of every uncertainty and just gets ON with it!. I never saw anyone in this job I could adore so much.

SOPHIA: Hey, you ain't makin' sheeps eyes at him, are you?

MRS. JOHNSON: (surprised) Sophia! I'm a married woman!

SOPHIA: (jibing) Oh, sure, so where is your husband now?

MRS. JOHNSON: (smirkish) You won't catch ME out with any of those trick questions.

SOPHIA: Aw, Gabby. I was just checking. You are consistent to the last.

MRS. JOHNSON: I should hope so!

SOPHIA: So how is Professor Stokes?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, he is definitely recovering well from that dream curse. The entire thing got misaligned when I had to explain what happened to me.

SOPHIA: Why? What happened when you had the dream?

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, I opened a few of the doors and just screamed my head off at some of the things I had to see, but then I heard a different song from the poem everyone else heard, apparently. At least that's what the Professor told me about when I explained it. I chose a door very different from the rest and there were a group of teenagers that seemed very frightened. I didn't recognize any of them but I huddled them close and-

SOPHIA: Did you put the salt around your bed like I told you to?

MRS. JOHNSON: Yes, Sophia. And I made the blessing you prescribed. It was all good, and as an afterthought, when I scrubbed out the salt—

SOPHIA: It gets that rug looking shiny-new! I told you!

MRS. JOHNSON: Yes it does! Thank you. Anyway, I brought all the boys and girls towards me and I noticed a stranger in the corner. Sophia, he had a bladed glove!

SOPHIA: Whad'ya mean a bladed glove?

MRS. JOHNSON: It was a glove with blades, like knives on the end of each finger.

SOPHIA: Mercy!

MRS. JOHNSON: And a fedora, and he looked like he'd been badly burned.

SOPHIA: Goodness!

MRS. JOHNSON: But! It was the sweater!

SOPHIA: What?

MRS. JOHNSON: He had a sweater on. With stripes of red and olive drab green.

SOPHIA: (pauses and takes a deep breath.) Wait a minute…

MRS. JOHNSON: Mmm, hmm…

SOPHIA: Isn't that…

MRS. JOHNSON: Mmmmm-hmmmm?

SOPHIA: That sounds like the sweater YOU knitted! From the yarn in the rummage sale!

MRS. JOHNSON: MMMMM-HMMMM! Ex-actly!

SOPHIA: You knitted that sweater for your tom-cat, Crackers!

MRS. JOHNSON: That's right!

SOPHIA: Goodness gracious! What did you do?

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, these kids were terrified and I was too, but then when I saw that, I stiffened up. I said, now, NOW! Charley Crackers, you little tom-puss. You think you can give ME any grief after all I've done for you? That set him to stop his giggling and straighten up. I told him that these kids hadn't done him any harm and I'd done him plenty good, so if one of his nine lives was set to mischief he could CERTAINLY do a favour for ME!

SOPHIA: And what was that?

MRS. JOHNSON: I told him, you have a hankerin' to do dirty work? You go right out that door I came through and find that evil sorceress and give her what for! And HE DID! Sliced her up like a pan of sausages. I'd seen the kids out another door, of course, but goodness me! It was a sight to behold.

SOPHIA: Sounds like that worked wonders. I've been known to work a bit of a curse if you want me to add something to the fray.

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, thank you, Sophia, but this really is a local concern.

SOPHIA: No, really. I could whet the whistle with some trouble myself.

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, no… but actually… do you think you could telephone the next place that Victoria and Peter were staying at? They gave me the number but I'm rather tired of using the telephone lately. I go to answer the darn thing and there is always someone who is looking for someone else who isn't here.

SOPHIA: No problem, Gabby. Why do they keep driving around everywhere anyway? Why not fly?

MRS. JOHNSON: (sighs) Well, what with the loss of Miss Victoria's previous fiancé, she's not exactly partial to air travel.

SOPHIA: (knowingly) Ahhh, I see. That makes sense. Anyway, I'll get right to it. What's the number?

MRS. JOHNSON: Right next to the telephone in the foyer. You just go and make sure they're all right.

SOPHIA: No problem! (steps echoing) Who the hell are YOU?

TONY: I'm Mr. Peterson… who are you?

SOPHIA: My name… is Sophia… others know me as the terminator. What the hell do you want?

TONY: (a bit baffled) Can you let Carolyn know I'm here?

SOPHIA: … no… go upstairs and tell her yourself!

TONY: Um… okay (trotting up the stairs)

SOPHIA: What a tool! (Dialing) Hello?

LADY'S VOICE: Hello, Great Northern Lodge…

SOPHIA: Hello, I'd like to speak with Victoria and Peter Bradford, please.

LADY'S VOICE: Oh! The Bradford party! They just checked in. Please hold…

SOPHIA: And this is what they call modernization…

[phone ringing]

PETER: Hello?

SOPHIA: Hey, Peter, how'ya' doin?

PETER: Who is this?

SOPHIA: I'm calling for Mrs. Johnson. This is a friend of hers from Brooklyn. She wants to know if you hit the Pacific safe and sound.

PETER: Oh! Well, yes… I mean. I guess so.

SOPHIA: WHAD'Ya MEAN you GUESS so?

PETER: Well, I mean…

VICTORIA: Let me talk to her… Mrs. Johnson?

SOPHIA: No, this is Sophia, Sophia Petrillo and I'm a friend of Mrs. Johnson. She's busy in the kitchen and she wanted to make sure that you kids were okay.

VICTORIA: Oh yes, Mrs. Petrillo, we're fine. It's just that… well…

SOPHIA: It's all right, I can take it, I live in New York, I've seen and heard stuff you'd never dream of, just sock it to me, as they say on Laugh-In.

VICTORIA: Well, to be perfectly honest…

SOPHIA: Yes?

VICTORIA: There was a lot of trouble going on here when we arrived.

SOPHIA: Such as?

VICTORIA: Well, Mrs. Petrillo, there is an investigation going on.

SOPHIA: OF course!

VICTORIA: This girl was found wrapped in plastic…

SOPHIA: Poor woman!

VICTORIA: Named Laura Palmer.

SOPHIA: Lara Parker?

VICTORIA: NO! Laura Palmer!

SOPHIA: Oh, thank God! I thought we were about to have a cross angle on reality and fiction here.

VICTORIA: Well, it's just that everyone in town is suspect since the crime was discovered and there is a curfew and now we're a bit stuck.

SOPHIA: They should give you free room service at least!

VICTORIA: They are, actually. How did you know?

SOPHIA: Anytime the guests are hassled at any lofty hotel they give ya free room service. Then they claim their own troubles and increase the price anyway.

VICTORIA: Oh dear. Should we leave soon?

SOPHIA: No, no. If you leave that quick they'll think you did it. You gotta make a clean slate of it before you go. You might as well stay and try out the pie at the Double R Diner-wait, on second thought, don't go there. Try Jack's Fry House instead. It's off on the west side of town.

VICTORIA (sighs) I thought this was going to be such a quiet, sleepy town, too.

SOPHIA: That's what Mrs. Johnson thought when she applied for work in Collinsport! Heck, when you applied for governess that's what you thought, too, I'll bet.

VICTORIA: That is true, Mrs. Petrillo.

SOPHIA: Look at it this way, you're not involved, and you're only encountering the bare edges of a murder investigation. That's got to beat being here, in a town where exorcists refuse to go.

VICTORIA: (cheerfully) Hah, you know I didn't think of it that way.

SOPHIA: So calm down, get a massage, check out the trees and the fresh air. Drink the water, sure, but try not to mingle too much with the people. Just try to shuck off some of that nervousness you learned in Collinsport.

VICTORIA: Gee, thanks, Mrs. P. You're quite a woman.

SOPHIA: I'm the best! Ciao.

[click, footsteps]

MRS. JOHNSON: I'm just putting some cookie batter in the toaster oven.

SOPHIA: Oh, good- wait, the toaster oven?

MRS. JOHSON: Sure, if you do it that way, you only eat a few at a time and don't overdo it.

SOPHIA: Sounds good.

MRS. JOHSON: How are the kids?

SOPHIA: Oh, they're fine. There's a murder investigation going on in that town so I figure they'll be seeing some normal problems instead of the oogie-boogies we've got going on over here.

MRS. JOHSON: Oh, dear! Are they suspected?

SOPHIA: Don't worry, Gabby! They'll be fine. Everyone gets suspected. It's not a crime… to be suspected… I told them to stay put a while. Not sure where they ought to go next. And some suit went up stairs to find Carolyn, by the way.

MRS. JOHNSON: (knowingly) Ohhh, Mr. Peterson.

SOPHIA: Yeh, that's what he said.

MRS. JOHNSON: He's had an odd gleam in his eye for a while. I think he's gotten in cahoots with Mrs. Collins.

SOPHIA: No surprise there, though now that you mention it, what happened when you woke up from that dream?

MRS. JOHNSON: (pleased) Fresh as a daisy! I rarely ever remember my dreams but I was whistling all day with the thought of that one in my head.

SOPHIA: Well, he was a good cat, after all, even if the all the elm trees were a bit frayed in the neighbourhood.

MRS. JOHNSON: That's true. Cookie?

SOPHIA: Don't mind if I do. So you didn't tell anyone about your dream, other than me, I mean.

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, I'd gone over to the Old House around that time to deliver some eggs and Professor Stokes wanted to chat me up, so I had a nice sit down with him and squared some things away.

SOPHIA: Gabby, what the heck are you going over to the Old House to deliver eggs for? You don't have chickens?

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, not anymore, after the wolves come in and ate 'em all up. Now we have to get it all delivered, but the delivery men are of two minds which house is worse. So we get all the eggs and the milkman leaves all the milk at the Old House. There's no getting through to those men.

SOPHIA: How do you manage that?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, it's that new fella working for Mr. Barnabas Collins. He's got some interesting solutions.

SOPHIA: Oh, yeh, Wadsworth. Collinsport's ode to P.G. Wodehouse. What did he come up with?

MRS. JOHNSON: He says, Madam, if the Mountain won't come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must come to the mountain. As there is no way of persuading these gentlemen, you may bring eggs at any time you wish as these woods are so tormented, and I shall brave the early dawn to see that the milk doesn't spoil.

SOPHIA: Does he really talk like that?

MRS. JOHNSON: Yes, indeed. He is a wonder…

SOPHIA: What is it, Gabby? You're eyes look a bit glassy.

MRS. JOHNSON: (sighing) Well, if you must know I have been rather concerned over Mister Roger Collins pining for that wretched Cassandra. Wadsworth noticed that I'd been somewhat strained and asked me how I'd been feeling, so I explained.

SOPHIA: What did he have to say about it?

MRS. JOHNSON: I'm not sure why but he really was able to put my mind to rest about it… at least for a time. He kept assuring me that, oh what did he say? "Dark though the days may be, all will turn right in the end."

SOPHIA: Sounds lyrical.

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, you don't know the half of it. Lately when we make the switch of eggs and milk I hear him humming away and singing. He's really gotten to be quite the singer, even if it is over a sink.

SOPHIA: Well, he sounds like a charmer all right. You seem to be surrounded by some lookers. And Wadsworth had some clever ideas. Which reminds me! Did you find that big fellow yet?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh yes! I'd almost forgotten—

CAROLYN: Mrs. Johnson? Mrs. Johnson?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, excuse me a moment, Sophia.

CAROLYN: Mrs. Johnson, have you seen Mr. Collins, that is Cousin Barnabas? Mr. Peterson wanted to speak to him.

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, no, Miss Stoddard, not since last night. I know he's had some actual daylight hours, lately. But who knows how long that will last? I'm sure he's bound to be out again when the sun goes down… (vaguely confused) if you can find the sun, that is.

CAROLYN: Yes, it has been overcast, hasn't it? Well, if you see him can you let him know Mr. Peterson and I will be up at Widow's Hill?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, my, Miss Stoddard. What on earth do you want to go up there for?

CAROLYN: Well not to jump to my doom, if you're wondering. We're simply going for a stroll.

MRS. JOHNSON: I'll let him know.

CAROLYN: Thank you, Mrs. Johnson.

[footsteps, door closes, more footsteps]

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, that's good, then!

SOPHIA: What is, Gabby?

MRS. JOHNSON: Miss Stoddard is out of the house and will be none the wiser. I was worried I'd have to sneak Adam back upstairs.

SOPHIA: Adam?

MRS. JOHNSON: That's him, the big fellow I told you about. You said you're uncle needed a strapping, big hulk no one would take any guff from. I've let him stay in the pantry and kept feeding him. He sure has an appetite!

SOPHIA: I'll bet. How's his behavior lately? Is he throwing any tantrums?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, not at all. In fact, since I've been giving him some decent meals and letting him help cook, he's shaping up to be, well, rather gallant, as the case has it. I think someone else's been teaching him things. I can't give myself half the credit.

SOPHIA: Teaching him? Like who?

MRS. JOHNSON: I couldn't say. I just know that I can't watch him in all my own waking hours and that pantry does go down pretty far. Could be a passage through it somewhere else for all I know. Say, Sophia, didn't you say you needed someone to work for your Uncle Annuziata?

SOPHIA: Uncle Nunzio, yeh. … say, what about all the scars? Does he still have those?

MRS. JOHNSON: O' I don't know. He's your uncle!

SOPHIA: No, no no, the big fella, Adam.

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, I've been working on that, too. Remember the abrasions I got from the accident with the old iron? Well, I still have big jar of that prescription cream Dr. Woodard left me, heaven rest his soul. I tried it on Adam.

SOPHIA: All healed, up? Some of that new analgesic stuff is marvelous, isn't it?

MRS. JOHNSON: Welllll, he is a lot better but you can still notice some of the scarring if you get close. BUT it is a vast improvement. I have a feeling that's been a confidence booster for him. This reminds me, he should stay away from particularly filthy work. What did your uncle need him for again?

SOPHIA: Manufacturing soap.

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh! Well! That'd be good for him, I think. [door creak] Adam? Wanna come on up now? I've got a friend who'd like to see you.

ADAM: (gruff echo) A Friend?

MRS. JOHNSON: Yes. Come on up.

[CLOP… CLOP… CLOP… CLOP!]

SOPHIA: Now *that's* what I call a man!

ADAM: (briskly) Why, thank you very much. Whom do I have the honour of addressing if I may be so bold as to inquire?

MRS. JOHNSON: Adam, this is my old friend, Sophia Petrillo. Sophia, this is Adam. Adam… um…

ADAM: Yes, my somewhat mixed, purloined, and cobbled heritage has left me rather without a surname. I would use what my… makers at first intended but this would incline others of mild discretion to believe I, or perhaps bits of me, are related to the family on this estate. This is, of course, not the case. Nor would I wish it to be so.

SOPHIA: Why not? You could come in to a lot of dough with a last name like that.

ADAM: A lot of dough, as you leguminously might put it, is in short order not to my taste, however newly acquired. I may not be a gentleman, but someday, I aspire to become one.

SOPHIA: Well, your mannerisms of hands folded and a few tucks at the sleeves of that smart jacket, could have fooled me. At the right angle you're practically genteel, Adam…

ADAM: I am most gratified madam.

SOPHIA: Adam… hmm, doesn't quite suit. How about Adamo? (voiced wistfully) Adamo Grisanti.

MRS. JOHNSON: Why, Sophia. Isn't that your old family name?

SOPHIA: And why not? He could be Italian. Anyone can reinvent themselves in this great land of ours. He's probably got a few parts as it is, don't you think?

ADAM: (Elegantly) How about… Adamo Grisanti… Terenzio…

SOPHIA: Più bella! Oh, may I take him home with me?

MRS. JOHNSON: Well why do you think I brought him up here to meet you?

SOPHIA: REALLY? Can I keep him?

MRS. JOHNSON: (taken aback) Sophia, that's between you and Sal!

SOPHIA: I don't want him as a second husband. I'm hoping for a second son.

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, they might be able to share clothing; they're both about the same height.

SOPHIA: Nah, I don't think our Adamo here would present well in a sleeveless blouse or a silk pant suit.

ADAM: (contemplative) Hmm, I'd never thought about it…

SOPHIA: You save you're thinkin' for the trip home. Has he got any luggage, Gabby?

MRS. JOHNSON: Just the clothes on his back, as far as I know.

SOPHIA: Perfect. I hope things get better around here for you.

MRS. JOHNSON: Well, they've certainly gotten more interesting. I seem to feel an inkling less foreboding each day. And, Adam, I hope you keep feeling better and better. Keep behaving yourself.

ADAM: Thank you, Mrs. Johnson. You are an admirable woman. I shall endeavour to keep my temper in-check and refer to your wisdom and gentle good humour.

MRS. JOHNSON: (sweetly)That's so kind of you, Adam. Well, Sophia, you better get him out of here before I want to keep him all to myself!

SOPHIA: Yeh, you got enough fops around here …churning them out from spare parts, too! I better lower the percentage.

ADAM: Yes, lead on, madam! I am your humble servant. A new life in the big city. I am ready.

SOPHIA: See you later, Gabby. I'll let you know how things go. (To herself: )…another Grisanti… I wonder what Papa would think of this?

MRS. JOHNSON: (tearing up a bit) Oh, give us a hug you two! [ruffle] Have a safe journey, and here's some cookies for your trip!

ADAMO: Good-bye, Mrs. Johnson and good luck.

SOPHIA: I second that!

MRS. JOHNSON: (softly calling out) Goodbye.

(door creaks and closes)

RANDOM VOICE: Mrs. Johnson?

MRS. JOHNSON: GASP! Oh, Mister Collins. I thought you were napping.

ROGER: (woe-be-gone) Oh, who can sleep when the love of my life is still missing? It is a dismal heartache that… (curiously distracted) Say, who were those two?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh, just a couple of out of town friends who stopped by for a cup of coffee and a biscuit or two. I hope it was all right to chat with them, Mister Collins.

ROGER: (relieved) Oh, that's fine, in fact heartily endorsed. At least someone is having a good time around this gloomy and depressing domicile. I keep trying to cheer myself up with that Dale Carnegie book but I keep misplacing it.

MRS. JOHNSON: Why, it's right over here on the… the… thing… um. Mister Collins, what is this thing over here by the coat rack and staircase?

ROGER: A mystery, Mrs. Johnson. I wanted to call it an old radio and Mrs. Stoddard keeps saying it's a commode of some sort. A mystery, Mrs. Johnson, is likely its rightful name. Oh, and thank you for the book. I shall now return to my den of woe.

MRS. JOHNSON: And me to my kitchen, Mister Collins… (muttering) to stir up some usual seafood, I suppose.

[sound of whooshing and xylophone to anchor a return to the present]

DOROTHY: (annoyed) Ma! What the hell do all those compounding, gossipy stories have in common with what's going on right now?

BLANCHE: (happily) Oh, Sophia, thank you! I know exactly what to do. I'm drivin' out right NOW to that Bed and Breakfast and talk to my Grammy!

SOPHIA: Y'see?

DOROTHY: (thoughtfully) Yeah, I think I do…

ROSE: (usual enthusiasm) Oh, I got some good stuff out of that. A college professor is obviously a great boyfriend to have. I'm going to go and meet Miles at the Ballroom and dance all night!

SOPHIA: So, Pussycat?

DOROTHY: (happily accepting) Yep, you got me, Ma! I have just the thing to order for dinner. How about fish and chips with a stewpot of clam chowder?

SOPHIA: Sounds good to me! Make sure to get some of that cheese bread to go with it!

DOROTHY: Ok!

[Golden Girls ending credits theme, morphs into Dark Shadows ending theme.]

All due respect to:

The Kids In The Hall

The Nightmare on Elm Street Flicks

The Golden Girls

Twin Peaks

And of course,

Dark Shadows (1960s TV Show)