Jerry is performing his comedy act.

Jerry: They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and I gotta believe this when it comes to art. I'm the kinda guy that likes a straightforward painting of scenery- skylines, Old World streets, nonexistent parks and fields and mountains. I'm not into that weirdo, stuck-up, hoity-toity canvas that's composed of smudges, and blobs, and streaks, and crooked glops that some art critic will somehow proclaim as The Greatest Masterpiece Of Our Time! What? Are you kidding me?! It's just a bunch of smudges and blobs and glops! What's he seeing that 99 % of the rest of us don't see? We see crap, he sees Humanity's Reason To Exist! I blame the parents, you know. It must have started back then! Little Niles painted a pictures in school, brought it home and his mother looked at it and said, "Oh, very, very nice, Niles! That's a wonderful painting of a monkey!" Meanwhile, little Niles bursts out crying saying, "That's not a monkey! It's a pirate ship hitting an ice berg!" (Mimes turning an imaginary picture side to side, tilts his head and nods) "Oh, I see now, honey! Of course, it's a pirate ship hitting an iceberg!" And then it just goes on and on from there, with Niles using the wrong end of a paint brush, creating crap, and his parents proclaiming his genius, and somehow selling his worthless excuses for art for millions of dollars! And instead of telling us what it really is, Niles will go,- (In an aristocratic, snobbish voice) "The spherical consolation of the aptitude of this painting is in its simplistic articulation of the pretentious bargaining between Man and Nature, circumnavigating the isolation of the male psyche as it alludes to the procedural confines of the balance of power."



Sure whatever you say, Niles!

I still say it's just a monkey!


George is on his couch, slouched back and staring at the ceiling in despair as his parents, Estelle and Frank Costanza, take turns badgering and frustrating him.

Estelle; I'm just saying I don't know why God had to make all those stupid hills and mountains! Walking up and down them is terrible for my rheumatism! What could have been so wrong with a flat Earth, for Heaven's sake? The world has flat places, so it should be flat everywhere!

Frank; The world is NOT flat, and you'd know that if you'd ever watched PBS! And besides, HOW DARE YOU criticize the Almighty!

Estelle; Oh, yeah? Tell me you approve of those ridiculous hills in San Francisco with your vertigo and THEN tell me He's perfect!

Frank; Don't bring the fine metropolis of San Francisco into all this, wifey! They've got enough problems with the hippies and drug lord-ice cream vendors without you making outlandish quips!

Estelle; I never quip.



George (depressed and hopelessly) Oh, God.

Frank; Ya see?! Even my own son is on my side!

Estelle; Georgie?

George (morosely); Yes?

Estelle; I was going through your stuff in your bedroom and I as wondering how come you have almost as many issues of 'Cosmopolitan' as you do 'Sports Illustrated'? Is there something you want to tell us? Something to confess and break our hearts about? Maybe about a 3-year subscription in your name?

George (holding his head in his hands): Aaahhhh. Why'd you look through my stuff? I'm a grown man, for God's sake! And this is my apartment!

Frank; You mean it's true?! My son reads lady's magazines?!

George; They're not really mine! They're Susan's! It was a subscription for her under my name!

Estelle; I dunno. Sounds kind wrong.

Frank (sadly); Poor Susie. God rest her soul. (Suddenly gets excited and claps his hands) Oh! Hey! It's almost time for "Kill Bill Part 2"! I think it's on The Disney Channel!

George; It's no big deal! I had a account for the subscription and she didn't! So I ordered the subscription through my account. And even though she's gone, I haven't cancelled the subscription.

Frank; You got a 'pay pal'?! What the hell is that?!

Estelle; You're not using them for something else, are you, like-

A knock at the door suddenly gives George a burst of energy and he leaps off his couch, practically running for the door.

George; THANK GOD!

Frank; Who the hell could that be? You don't know anybody! Most people avoid you like the plague!

Estelle; If it's a Hare Krishna don't let your father smack him like last time! We're still in litigation over that incident!

Frank; He had it coming! He tried to sell me a handful of daisies!

George (opening the door widely to show his parents who's visiting); Elaiiiine! What a surprise! (Under his breath) Thank God you're here!

Elaine enters, a little confused, until she sees George's parents on the couch, and grins widely, knowing that she was brought here under different circumstances than she expected.

Elaine (under her breath and through clenched smiling teeth); I'm gonna get you for this, Costanza! (Out loud) Oh, hi, Estelle! Frank.

Frank (irritated); Woman.

Estelle; Hello, Elaine! What are you doing here?

George: I called her earlier! I really, really needed her copy of one of Shakespeare's plays for a promotion down at Kruger's company that I'm putting together. Is that it?

Elaine (glances at the old book in her hand, then hands it to George); Um, yeah. I never knew you were the type that would be into the Bard?

George; Oh, yeah! Yep, yep, yep! Big, big Shakespeare fan! We call ourselves 'Shakeys'! In fact, I-ooooooooooohhh! Willya look at that?! This is the wrong book!

Elaine (checking the cover); No, it's not, George? See -'A Midsummer Night's Dream'.

George; Nope, nope, nope! Wrong one, Elaine! (Winks at her and touches his nose surreptitiously). This is the wrong one! I needed the sequel...uh..."A Midwinter's Afternoon Nap "!

Elaine; Well, I beg to differ, Georgie-boy, since-

George; Oh, hey, who's right and who's wrong here?! Does it really matter? Let's find out, just for fun's sake! I'll drive you back home and we'll settle this once and for all! Ma, Dad- knock yourself out! Stay, leave, don't touch my stuff, grab a bite to eat somewhere else, but I gotta go! I'm back on the clock, thanks to 's crazy promotional idea!

Frank (suspiciously); You said it was something you were putting together?

George (pausing, as he recalls his own words a few seconds ago); Yesss. Yes. I said that. But Kruger is a delegator, isn't he? Psycho about delegating! Woo-hoo! We call him 'The Delegator' down in the front office! He wouldn't sully his hands with a project of this menial magnitude! It's his project, but I'm doing all the leg work. Okay, so, gotta go! Buh-bye!

George tries to drag Elaine out the front door, but Estelle steps forward.

Estelle: Just a sec, George. Elaine, it's nice of you to help Georgie like this, but you really need to get on with your own life instead of doing favors for my slave-driving son! You should be at home with a husband! I'm worried about you! You're so old-

Elaine (sarcastically); Thanks!

Estelle: -and still not married! I feel the need to set you up on a date.

Elaine (wide-eyed and beginning to panic at that thought!); Ooooh, thank you, Estelle. Thanks a lot, b-b-but no, no, noooo-

Frank; If anyone's fixing up Elaine on a blind dateit's me!

Estelle; You?! You can't even pick out your own socks in the morning! How the hell are you going to pick out Elaine's future husband?!

Elaine; Husband?! I'm not-!

Frank; I do so pick out my own socks! I have to because I only have one sock per foot thanks to your suspicious laundry shenanigans! The other foot is always missing!

Elaine; Really, I don't-!

Frank (to George): I'm about ready to consult a private detective to find out why!

George: Just don't hire that weird lawyer in the cape!

Estelle; You set up Cousin Henry on a blind date and he ended up committing suicide!

Frank: Merely a fluke! I also set up Cousin Beatrice with her current beau!

Estelle; But what about my sister, Babette?! You set her up on one of your stupid blind dates and she ended up being taken away by the FBI! Supposedly she was locked up at Area 51 for a year before they let her go, and she's never been the same! She doesn't even blink anymore!

Frank; So I'm one-for-three! It could be worse! (He turns to Elaine) Now, listen to me, missy; I've got the perfect man for you! Goes by the name of 'Chipper'!

Elaine (dumbfounded); 'Chipper'? What is he, like 75 years old?

Frank; Don't get smart! He's a veritable Adonis! And I'm not just saying that, or because I have any sort of homosexual inkling, but the man is quite the looker! I'll have you barefoot and pregnant in no time! That is, Chipper will!

Elaine; But, Frank, there's-

Frank; I won't take 'no' for an answer here, Elaine! (Counting on his fingers one at a time) It'll be a blind date, additional encounters of varying degrees of social interaction, marriage, and then coitus and children! (Points at Elaine) And-in-that-order, missy!

Estelle; Ignore him, Elaine! I'll set you up with a man that's at least got a real name!


Estelle; I'll call you after I've set up a place for you to meet.

Frank; Not if I get there firrrst!

Elaine (pushing George towards the door); Yeah, uh, suddenly I'm beginning to think that I did give you the wrong book, George! Let's get the heck outta here!

Elaine pulls George out the front door and it slams behind them. Frank and Estelle stare at each other like rivals.

Estelle; You can't control her intimate relations, you know! She already sleeps around enough for three women!

Franks; It's the 21st century, Estelle. She's already made her bed and will have plenty of explaining to do at the Pearly Gates to Him! In the meantime, I'm going to try and make an honest woman out of her. They might even start off slowly, with just a smooch or two before knocking her headboard loose against the neighbor's wall!

Estelle (thinking back with a smile) I remember when you couldn't keep your hands off me!

Frank; You don't deserve a smooch from these lips every day!


Traffic passes by the restaurant on a rainy day. We see a man with a newspaper narrowly avoid being splashed by a speeding car. His reflexes save him, and he laughs at the driver. He's suddenly drenched from behind as a speeding bus splashes him with water, prompting him to have a fit of anger and shout at the bus in a foreign language, until he sees a police officer walk by. Embarrassed, he walks away. The police officer walks by Monk's and is splashed by a third vehicle.


George and Elaine have joined Jerry and Kramer at their usual table, as the busy restaurant is filled almost to capacity. Elaine leads the way, still in conversation with George behind her.

Elaine; ...George, that's completely nuts! Shakespeare did not create the Hulk!

George (sitting down after he hangs his coat on a hook); I'm just saying that between him and Stan Lee, that's too much genius to go around!

Elaine (to Jerry); George seems to think that Shakespeare was reincarnated as Stan Lee!

Jerry (sarcastically); I gotta admit- I never saw the similarities between The X-Men and 'The Merchant of Venice' before, but you might be onto something here.

George (checking the menu); Awright, okay, what're we ordering here?

Kramer; So, ladies and gentlemen, I just thought you should know about my latest venture with my friend, Bob Sacamano, that's going to boost my bank account like an over-inflated Hindenburg! We're going to buy and re-sell celebrity memorabilia like nobodys business! I've already done the research and bought my first few items!

Jerry; You can't get rich like that!

Kramer; Oh, I beg to differ, my dubious friend! I recently purchased a used wristwatch from one, Al Pacino, and re-sold it for the tidy sum of $499 and 34 cents! And it was a Timex!

George; How much profit did you make on the deal?

Kramer; Um. Well, after shipping and handling I made enough to pay my cable bill, but that's not the point! The fact is, I had a item that once belonged to Al 'You-can't-handle-the-truth!' Pacino!

Jerry; Jack Nicholson.

Kramer; Wha-huh?

Jerry; Jack Nicholson. He spoke that famous line, "You can't handle the truth' in 'A Few Good Men'.

Kramer; Oh, well, I beg to differ. I recall that it was Al Pacino. 'A Few Good Men' had that other famous line, "Say hello to my little friend!" by Halle Barry!

Jerry; What?

Kramer: What? Anyways, my point is it's true! There's a lot of junk on eBay that used to belong to famous celebrities! Here; check this out! (He rummages through his jacket pocket but his hand gets stuck and he struggles to remove it. He begins to fidget and bump into George who pushes him away, until Kramer removes a shiny silver object.) Feast your eyes on...THIS!

Elaine; What's that supposed to be?

Kramer; It used to be a compact that belonged to Brooke Shields. (He holds it out for them to look at and points to two letters inscribed on the outside.) See? B.S.

Jerry (skeptical) It's b.s., all right!

Kramer; The problem is that Bob Sacamano's accent sometimes gets in the way of, you know, understanding him. I thought I knew what he was talking about! I thought we were bidding on a compact car for just $384, and not a...ladies compact.

Jerry; You seriously thought you could buy Brooke Shields' used compact car for just $384? You couldn't get her steering wheel for 384 bucks!

Kramer; Jerry, you don't understand the celebrity mind, seeing as you aren't much of a celebrity yourself! They buy and dump all kinds of stuff every day! They spend loads of money just to prove that they can! They're not overtly frugal like you! Why I'll bet that this morning Ted Danson bought a 60-inch big screen TV, and tonight he'll bump into it and smash it to pieces, and he won't even care! He's so rich that he'll just buy another one!

George; Yeah! It's true! (sneering) I still hate Ted Danson! Smug, rich, lots of hair...

Elaine; Kramer, I could have bought you a compact for eight bucks if you'd wanted one so badly!

Kramer; Elaine, you're not getting it! This little gem used to belong to 'Oh-so-lovely' Shields, and she's going to help me get very rich...without the famous part. And this is just the beginning! My friend, Bob Sacamano and I are going to make a killing!

Jerry; You're killing me.

George (intrigued); Can I see that?

Kramer hands it to him, and he examines it, opens it up, examines it some more, then looks at his reflection. He notices a speck of dirt on his lower lip so he wipes it away, just as two rugged men pass by the group's table. The first man whistles, and the second one laughs at the embarrassing moment.

First Man; Well, hel-lo, Dolly! Don't you look sweet!

Second Man (In a high-pitched girly voice); Don't forget to stay within the lines, Precious!

Totally embarrassed, George shoves the compact back towards Kramer, and shoves his hands into his pockets as he blushes.

Elaine; You can't get that rich from celebrity leftovers, can you, Kramer?

Kramer; Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah! We'll buy whatever we can find and then turn around and resell it to the same chumps that we just out-bid! So far, we only have a few items. He bought a used restaurant napkin from Tom Cruise for just $874 and he was going to pay as much as a thousand bucks for the Shat's gall stone, but-

Jerry; 'The Shat'?

Kramer; William Shatner. Bob Sacamano wanted it real bad, yeah, but instead the stone went for $25,000 to a charity; Habitat for Humanity.

Jerry; Well, that's all you need to know, then, isn't it? Imagine how much a booger from Harrison Ford would go for! Or Angelina Jolie's-

Kramer; Laugh all you want, buddy! My bank account is about to get a infusion of big, fat, happy dollars thanks to all the junk those spendthrift Hollywood celebrities don't want! Or...don't realize entrepreneurs like Bob Sacamano and I have, uh, acquired!

Jerry; Is that code for 'stolen'?

Kramer; Hey!

George (considering); Celebrity memorabilia, huh?

Kramer; Hey...what's up with Monk?

The group notices the owner of the Cafe entering the dining room, and he's very upset. Kramer waves him over, and the big man towers over the group, looking more like a threatening grizzly bear than a friendly Cafe owner.

Monk; What's the problem here? Don't like the pie?

George (shaking his head nervously); Whaaat?! The pie? The pie's great! Just great!

Elaine (also nervous): Scrumptious!

Jerry (annoyed); You took my word!

Kramer; Nah, Monk, nothing's wrong here! I just noticed that ya looked pretty peed-off about something? Can I help?

Monk (reigning in his anger to reply); Not unless you have the number to a professional graffiti-eraser! Damned kids have gone and tagged the back of my restaurant again!

Elaine; 'Tagged'?

Monk; Defaced. Scribbled. Enhanced with obnoxious, unwanted, permanent painted graffiti. Ya dig?!

Elaine (lamely): I dig.

Kramer (standing up); Weill, I won't stand for this! Not on this fine establishment! Lemme see it, Monk. I might be able to help.


The back area of the Cafe is already a messy place with crates and garbage cans lining the brick wall, but right beside the back door is a series of fancy, doodled letters, with a set of huge white teeth sticking out of a big mouth below the letters, and two huge oval crossed eye balls on top of the lettering. Kramer inspects the artwork as Monk looks on.

Kramer; Oh, right. Yeah, yeah, I think I've actually seen this artist's work before. Outside a Denny's on Beverly Road in Brooklyn.

Monk; That ain't 'artwork', Cosmo! It's an offence to my eyes! All those teeth and that obnoxious, dumb smile! Stupid goofy crossed eyes mocking me! My sister used to have eyes!

Kramer (tilting his head to the left and right and squinting); What's it say? F-A-H-Z-W? R-H-H-2-?

Monk; Who cares what it says?! It's obnoxious and I hate it!

Kramer; Okay, well, when can I get started? I'll get rid of this monstrosity for you today if you like?

Monk (suspiciously); What's it gonna cost me?

Kramer; Monk, Monk, Monk! I'm hurt! Do you really think I'd expect payment for helping out a friend?!

Monk (suspiciously); What's it gonna cost me?

Kramer; Well, let's see. That pie was pretty scrumptious...

Monk; You're not getting free pie for a year, buster!

Kramer (His shoulders sag as he realizes that Monk knew what he was going to ask for); Okay...okay. Howabout free coffee for a ye- (Monk leers angrily at him and Kramer twitches from discomfort) A month.

Monk; Deal. Get started.

Kramer; Giddy-up! You won't be disappointed, Monk! will make everything okay. He and I are on the job!

Monk watches Kramer as he re-enters the Cafe, unsure of whom Kramer is speaking about.


Kramer exits the front door of the coffee shop, and jogs across the busy street towards an establishment called 'Harry's Craft Store'


Frank and Estelle Costanza are long gone, and George is deep in thought, pacing back and forth, rummaging through his drawers and bookcase for something, until he pauses, and looks at the object on top of the bookcase. Sealed within a rectangular glass case and resting on top of a piece of purple velvet is a yellow pencil with what appears to be indentations on it. George stares at the item, and the sound of a racing heartbeat is heard by the audience.

George looks away and the heartbeat sound lowers to a calm pattering as he checks his desk drawer. He stops and looks at the glass-enclosed writing implement again, and his heartbeat races once more to the sound of a rapid drum, becoming louder and louder as his chest heaves and he begins to hyperventilate.. He shakes his head, and bites his lower lip.

George (to himself); No. No way! Not worth it.

He pauses again and hears Kramer's voice from the coffee shop.

Kramer (In voice-over); Brooke's Shield's compact for $384! Al Pacino. You can't handle the truth! The Shat. $25,000. $25,000. $25,000.

George shakes his head and grabs the glass box, lovingly holds it towards his chest, shakes his head rapidly, then stops.

George (calmly and to himself); Who the heck am I kidding? I'd sell my Mother's left lung for $25,000! Well. You had a nice run, Jon. Now you're gonna make me rich.

George holds the case in his hands as he rubs a smudge of dirt from the small gold plate attached to the glass which reads; 'Genuine Jon Voight Chewed-On Pencil' He sets it back on top of his bookcase, and pulls out a digital camera, taking various images of it for his eBay seller's page.


It's the next day, and Monk is carrying out a couple bags of garbage to the rear area with a scowl on his face. He looks over his shoulder and dumps the bags inside a metal trash can, then pauses. He scowls even deeper, as he slowly turns around to look at what he can't believe that he saw. He grits his teeth, and stares in anger at the new graffiti. The letters, eyes, and teeth are gone, and are now replaced by an even bigger drawing of a smarmy, smiling, silver face with two little black eyes and a black top hat on its head. He dashes back into his coffee shop muttering angrily under his breath.


It's morning and George shuffles out of his bedroom, clumsily pulling his glasses out of his pyjama shirt. He's about to go into his kitchen, but his laptop computer on his desk prompts him to check his eBay seller account. He groans as he sits down and logs on. He waits a few seconds, leans to one side, and releases a muffled little fart.

George; Aahhh. Mushroom lasagne!

He sees his page, cracks his knuckles, and leans in, expecting a modest increase from his opening bid of $25. He lunges forward in utter surprise, griping the edge of his desk, then puts on his glasses to re-read the computer screen.

George (exclaiming); $327?! Three hundred...and twenty-seven...American dollars?! (Jumping up, arms raised to the ceiling, and a big smile on his face) I LOVE JON VOIGHT!


A daytime the side of the restaurant


Kramer enters, pleased with himself, and rubs his hands in anticipation of his payment from Monk. He leans on the cashier's table at the front of the restaurant, and plucks a rose out of the glass flowerpot on the desk, and hands the rose to Ruthie the cashier

Kramer (singing ); It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautifuil day in the neighborhood! (Speaking flamboyantly) Top of the morning to you, Ruthie! For you, my darlin'!

Ruthie is unimpressed and puts her flower back into the flowerpot.

Ruthie; I don't accept gifts from dead men!

Kramer; Wha-?


Kramer's demeanour shifts to one of fear from the loud shout and the obvious signs of anger on Monk's face. The cafe owner stomps right up into Kramer's face, who backs up and almost knocks over a coat hanger before catching it, then bumps into an old lady with her takeout food. He grabs her bag from mistake, straightens up and hands her a coat from the coat hanger. She looks on helplessly until he realizes his mistake. He exchanges the coat for her take out food and pats her on the head, then turns around to face Monk.

Kramer (nonchalantly); Yo, Monk! How's it hanging, brother?

Monk; I oughta pound you, stringbean! You told me you were gonna fix my graffiti problem! Not add to it!

Kramer; I have improved it, Monk! Don't you like ?

Monk; Is that what you call it? I call it an offensive, stupid face! And Kramer? I don't like offensive, stupid faces! (He takes small steps closer to Kramer, who's getting more and more afraid) Not a bit! Real or painted! Know what I'm saying? I was tagged by some kid and got a dumb face plastered onto my wall, and then someone twice his age tagged me again with an even bigger drawing on my wall!

Kramer; But, it's , Monk! How can you not like ?!

Monk; What's to like?! It's obnoxious and smug! If I was-

A small man in glasses and a business suit approaches the two men, and taps Monk on the shoulder.

Kleinenbourg; Excuse me, gentlemen? My name is Montrose Kleinenbourg The Third, and I think I might have an answer to your disagreement.

Monk; Yeah? What're you gonna do? Hold Kramer down while I piledrive his-

Kleinenbourg; Oh, my, no! My card. (He offers a business card to both Kramer and Monk) I'm the curator of the West Manhattan Curioso Art Gallery on West 84th Street, and I'm always seeking out interesting and unusual works of art to exhibit. May I see this, uh, Figgy-?

Kramer; . But, it's uh, painted on Monk's wall. I don't know how you'd ever transfer it to your gallery, .

Kleinenbourg; Kleinenbourg.

Kramer; Climbingboog

Kleinenbourg; Kleinenbourg. And you just let me worry about transference. May I see it?

Monk; You can get your dog to do his business all over it for all I care, but yeah. I'll show you.

Kramer grins with expectation, but another angry leer from Monk robs him of his smile. Monk leads the two men to the rear area of his cafe.


Kleinenbourg is walking back and forth, carefully examining the artwork, mumbling, nodding, and 'Hmm'ing to himself. Monk rolls his eyes in annoyance and checks his watch.

Kleinenbourg; Yes, yes. Yesyesyes. Very good. Quite extraordinary brush work! Hmm. I wonder...?

Kleinenbourg removes a pointer from his jacket and stretches it out to match the width of the circular face. He turns it around in a circle and giggles in excitement.

Kleinenbourg; , you've painted a perfect circle! It's precisely 33 inches in circumference! Quite impressive!

Kramer (blushing with modesty); Well...thank you. I like circles.

Kleinenbourg; I wonder...could you replicate this masterpiece?

Kramer; I suppose if I really...'masterpiece'?!

Monk (awestruck and incredulous) Master-freakin'-piece?! You gotta be kidding me?! He's just rippin' off the famous yellow smiley face, but making his silver and with a dumb top hat on it!

Kleinenbourg (dead serious): I never joke about art, ! It's a brilliantly placed work of impressionistic ebullience that borders on the characteristic renderings of a child and the magnificence of a certified genius! I...I can't take my eyes off it! I must have this! And more.! , I beg of you- create another for me, would you?

Monk (incredulous): You want another one...of these?!

Kramer; Well, sure. Name your price!

Monk; What about my wall?

Kleinenbourg; I could offer you two thousand dollars for every that you can replicate to perfection! I want to see in every corner of my Gallery! In every corner of Manhattan! Of New York City! Of America, by God!

Kramer; Deal!

Monk; What about my wall?!

Kleinenbourg; Splendid! I just happen to have a contract in my briefcase in my automobile. I'm parked a block away. Shall we?

Kramer; We shall! After you, .

Kleinenbourg; Kleinenbourg.

Monk watches them leave, looks around his empty back area, and the annoying painting on his wall.



It's still morning as a rising sun can be seen reflecting off windows.


The phone is ringing and Elaine shuffles out to answer it, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, and hugs herself inside her housecoat. She flops down onto her couch, reaches for the ringing phone and nearly knocks over a lamp. She catches it in time, reaches for the phone and knocks over the photo of her mother. She sets it upright and finally picks up the phone.

Elaine; Hello?

Frank (voice-over on the phone); Frank Costanza.

Elaine (cringing, her shoulders sagging); Oh. Hi, Frank. Look, I can't talk now-

Frank (voice-over) Neither can I, missy. I'm in the middle of a rather stubborn bowel movement, but-

Elaine; It's kinda early, don't you think to- Wha-? W-wait. Are you talking to me from your bathroom?

Frank (voice-over); Bingo.

Elaine (cringing again); Frank, call me again when you're finished, huh? It's kinda gro-

Frank (voice-over and grunting); I might be in here so long that I may miss the third hour of 'The Today Show'. But that's neither here nor there- who the hell watches that part anyway?!

Elaine; I know what you mean-, but-but I watch it, Frank! Never miss it! Never! Never, ever, ever, ever! So-

Frank (voice-over); Then I'll be brief. I've arranged a tete-a-tete with yourself and Chipper! Your blind date will commence promptly tonight at seven PM at The Fox and Box, 341 East 23rd Street, a charming Irish Pub if I do say so myself!

Elaine; But, Frank, I never said I'd-

Frank (voice-over); I won't hear any further excuses or exculpation, Elaine. I'm here you. Seven PM, The Fox and Box. Be there and enjoy yourself. Oh, my.

Elaine; What?

Frank (voice-over); I don't remember eating that!

Elaine (cringing and sticking her tongue out); Okayokayokay! I'll go! Bye!

She hangs up her phone and sets the phone down, then wiggles her hands as if they're dirty. She walks into her adjoining kitchen and turns the water on, when the phone rings again. She returns to her living room and stares at the phone, hesitates, and finally answers it.

Elaine; Hello?

Estelle; Elaaiine! Hello! It's Estelle.

Elaine (relieved); Oh, thank God!

Estelle (Confused); Is something wrong?! Are you being robbed?! Don't say anything! Just nod!

Elaine; What?

Estelle; Oh, my God, you are being robbed! I'll hang up and call 911!

Elaine; No-no-no-no, Estelle! It's okay. I'm alone. And I just spoke to Frank.

Estelle; Yeah, I know. I overheard you guys. Listen, Elaine, here's what we're going to do. Frank said to meet his little friend at seven PM at the Fox and Box, but I'll do one better! I want you to meet at the Fox and Box, but at 6:30! That way you'll see my guy first!

Elaine; I don't know about all this blind date stuff, Estelle.

Estelle; Nonsense! You have less chance of committing suicide or getting arrested by the FBI if you date my guy!

Elaine; I...I...aye-yi-yi.-yi. *Sigh!* Okay, Estelle. I'll check out Mister...Castillo, was it? What's his first name?

Estelle; I don't know yet! I just met him myself!

Elaine (rubbing her forehead in frustration); Oy.

Estelle; Cheer up,. Elaine! Unlike that ridiculous Chipper-person Frank wants you to meet, really is a cutey-pie in my book! And I'm sure you're nearly the same age.

Elaine; Okay. Okay, I'll be there. Can you give me a hint of what he looks like?

Estelle; And break the sacred Blind Date mantra? No, Elaine, you'll just have to wait and see him!

Elaine; All right, but if he's a real-life Eduardo Corrochio I'm not about to actually watch a real-life bull fight!

Estelle (confused); What? Oh, really, really need a normal date, don't you?


A day time view of a busy street.


Kramer has produced a trio of paintings, each identical to the one he painted on Monk's wall. Hes grinning with pride, counting his cash, and Kleinenbourg is overjoyed, marvelling at the artwork.

Kleinenbourg; Splendid! Absolutely splendid! What perfection! What mastery of the common circle! What an outlandishly, joyous expression of happiness replicated by you, !

Kramer (prideful and just a little smug): Thank you, ! Got it right this time!

Kleinenbourg; Yes, you did! It's incredible how you've mastered this image over and over, ! It's the exact same dimensions and colors in every single version! I can't wait to display this in my gallery today! I have other connections, and I can guarantee you that the other two will be displayed in places of interest where they can be appreciated for the masterpieces that they are!

Several snobby art critics appear at the door, their noses up in the air, barely glancing about. Kleinenbourg rushes over to meet them.

Kleinenbourg; Aaahh! Piotr! Answell! Dumont! This is the gentleman I spoke to you so excitedly about on the telephone last night! And this! This is !

The two men and one woman are sceptical until they see the silver happy face with a top hat on the canvases and then their demeanour completely changes. They babble over top of each other excitedly and fawn over the paintings.

Piotr; I must have one of these, Montrose! I must! Minsk will never be the same after I hang this masterpiece on my gallery wall!

Answell; Minsk, indeed! My gallery in Stockholm will have it and completely overshadow your puny gallery!

Piotr; Indeed? We'll see about that, you Swedish meatball!

Dumont; The two of you may bicker all that you want, but I shall have one of these for certain, won't I, Montrose sweetheart?

The heavyset woman winks at Kleinenbourg who positively melts from the sign of affection.

Kleinbenbourg; Piotr, Answell- you two can fight it out in the back alley if you like. Dumont gets first pick.

Piotr; What?! This harpy? How dare you display your irresistible female wiles for the sake of a painting!

Answell: Unfair! You know that no man can resist you! That fiasco with Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston was all your doing! And now poor Angelina Jolie must the brunt of your feminine chicanery!

Dumont; What can I say? I've got it, and I shall flaunt it! Bradley most certainly did not seem to mind my advances!

Answell; Outrageous! But, if necessary, I will engage in a bout of fisticuffs with this Russian cosmo-nut for the honor of hanging one of these superb paintings in my gallery!

Kramer; Gentlemen, gentlemen! It shouldn't come to that!

Piotr; 'Gallery' in-deed! (leans towards Kramer and whispers loudly enough for Answell and the others to hear) He has one painting from Van Gogh, a scibbled figure of Snoopy from Charles , and the rest is littered by drunken bourgeois sycophantic friends of his uncle!

Answell; How dare you, sir! I only hang those in the smaller south wing of my gallery!

Kleinenbourg; Yes, well, gentlemen, that's all well and good, but I must insist that get the first choice, and the two of you will barter over the third painting of !

Kramer (seeing dollar signs in his head): Let the bargaining begin!


It's later in the day.


George enters the partially open door and he's excited and happy about something as Jerry makes a bowl of cereal for himself.

George; Check it out, check it out!

Jerry (smirking, takes the printout, reads it, and his eyes bug out.) $422.75?!

George; Yeah!

Jerry (incredulous): $422.75?!

George (beaming); Oooh, yeahh!

Jerry; For a pencil with teeth marks in it?!

George; With Jon Voight's teeth marks in it!

Jerry; No, it's not! The real Jon Voight bit Kramer's arm, remember? This pencil and your deceased car were owned by some guy called 'John Voyt'! V-O-Y-T! Not the actor!

George; So?

Jerry; You're lying! And making money off of it!

George; So? What's your point?

Jerry; 'So'?! Ebay is based on honest transactions! It's assumed, barring a statement of authenticity, that the item one is selling is actually the item the seller is claiming that it is!

George; It is John Voyt's pencil with his teeth marks in it!

Jerry; But not Jon Voight- V-O-I-G-H-T! Did you spell 'Voight' like that or by his real name, V-O-Y-T?

George (fuming and thinking it over): So what?! Obviously if some kook out there wants a chewed up pencil, then bully for him! I want to get into the celebrity memorabilia action like Kramer! It's $422, Jerry! You should be happy for me!

Jerry; I'm not. But I'll visit you in prison, though!

George; I can't go to jail for this!

Jerry; Oh really? Who bought this fake pencil?

George; One Veronica Frampley. She's in California.

Jerry; How do you know 'Veronica Frampley' isn't Jon Voight, himself? Veronica Frampley sounds made up.

George; Oh, she's real enough, baby! I did a reverse-look up on . She's right there in a little town called 'Red Bluff'!

Jerry; 'Red Bluff'? That sounds made-up, too! Jon Voight is bluffing you, don't you see?

George; No, I don't! Veronica is real, and her genuine Jon Voight chewed-up pencil is presently on it's way to her via Fed-Ex, while good ol' Pay Pal has deposited $422.75 into my bank account!

Jerry (shaking his head): You're gonna get caught.

George; Nope. And I'm not going to stop, either! I'm presently scouring my contacts for other celebrity articles of interest to re-sell on eBay!

Jerry; Uh-huh. And how's that going?

George (hitting reality, his shoulders sagging) Coulda been better.



George is at his phone, a New York phone book on his lap, and his personal address book on top of that. He looks a little dishevelled, and uptight as his plans aren't working out the way he expected.

George; Mister Wilhelm! How are you, sir! George Costanza!

Wilhelm (voice-over); What about him? Does he need a reference for another job? Well, you can just tell that ungrateful, little-

George; No, , it's me! This is George Costanza!

Wilhelm (voice-over); How did you get this number?! Do you wanna be sued?

George; , please! This is just a social call! I just wanted to see how you're doing?

Wilhelm (voice-over): Really. Oh, that's different. Well, George, to be honest, I was recently went to see a doctor for a tum-

George; That's nice, that's great, ! Say, I know you're working for the Mets now, but do you happen to have anything of value from your old days with the Yankees? Something with a player's signature on it, or 's fingerprints, or-

Wilhelm (voice-over): No, I don't, George. Everything I used to have went to charity. I'm a big believer in the American Cancer Soc-

George; No player's gloves? No autographed bats? No secret owner documents?

Wilhelm (voice-over, sarcastically); I have a restraining order with your name on it. Will that do?

George; Nope.

Wilhelm (voice-over); Didn't think so. Good-bye, George. Don't call this number again- I'm going to change it anyway! (George chuckles, and giggles with a snort). Did I say something funny?

George; You just quoted, word for word, my last girlfriend, Catherine, before we broke up! Heh-heh! It's like the two of you could have...hello? Hello? ?

George is seen dialing another phone number. He waits, and perks up as a voice answers on the other end.

George; Marisaaaa! Helloooooo, sweetheart! How are you?! It's been ages hasn't it?! Hey, sweetheart, can you do me a favor? Do you have anything with- who is this? Wha-? Hahahaaa! It's me! You know me! You should know my voice by now, sweetie! So, I...sure...George. Good ol' Georgie-boy! So, listen, I'm-...Hmm? Uh. You know me! Yes, I said 'George'. Er...yes. Yes, I'm 'that George'! Yep, it's George Costanza! So, Marisa, would it be possible for you to send me anything with your autograph or a photo of you that has 'Marisa Tomei' on it? I've started a new busin-hello? Hellooo? Marisa? Hmph. (Slowly hangs up the phone) I thought you dug overweight, balding guys!

George dials another phone number, and waits for an answer.

George; Betsy! Hiiii! It's George! George Costanza! Listen, I was wondering...yes. That George Costanza! So howya been? Good, I hope? Really good, I hope? Say, I got a question that maybe you can help me with! You know how I visited with your family during that unfortunate funeral for your aunt? When Timmy said I double-dipped my chip, even though I didn't actually get my, well, will you listen to me? Getting off topic here! So, I was just wondering, I happened to notice you're aunt had a signed photo of her meeting Dean Martin and I was wondering if I could have it? You know, as a remembrance of her? Hello? Betsy? Hello?



Jerry (pityingly); Mar-is-a To-mei! Poor girl probably forgot all about your cheating behind Susan's back! And you thought she'd cheerfully hand over some of her used celebrity junk to you?

George; Why not? She's richer than even Ted Danson! Anyways, I've hit a roadblock. I think my success might have stalled out at one item!

Jerry (shrugs his shoulders indifferently); That's a shame. Hey, 'Sportsview' is on! We'll check out the scores together after I've thrown out my own celebrity garbage! I had day-old pizza last night and followed that up with a box of Junior Mints! Got my fingerprints all over it! You could make a killing on it!

George; Yea, yea, yea. Funny guy.

Jerry leaves for his bedroom as George turns on the TV, then stops to think about what Jerry just said. He sneaks a glance behind him to see if Jerry's is there, but Jerry is still in his room.

George (voice-over); Well, well, well! What do you know? I have a real-life, albeit B or C-level celebrity right under my nose in Jerry! If Voight's grimy pencil could rack up $422, what could something not disgusting from Jerry fetch? I wonder...?

George leaps out of the couch and begins to rummage through Jerry's things, running his hands across books, knickknacks on shelves, the plates in his cabinet in the kitchen.

Jerry (coming out of his room); Good idea. Grab a bowl for the Rold Gold pretzels- they're beside the Oaty-Oh-Ohs and the Choco-Crunchies.

George nearly panics as he's caught, but realizes that Jerry doesn't know that he was looking for items to re-sell on eBay. He casually pulls down a bowl, examines it for value on eBay, but shakes his head to himself. Jerry sits down on his couch and George pours something from a random box into the bowl, walks over to the couch and hands it to Jerry.

Jerry; Hey, I said pretzels not cereal! What am I supposed to do with a handful of Rice Krispies without the milk!

George; Whoops! Lemme try that again!

Jerry watches him and squints at his friend as George hesitates in the kitchen and looks over his shoulder. When he sees Jerry watching him, he grabs the pretzels and pours the entire bag into the bowl, then brings it to Jerry who stares at the huge mound of snack food.

Jerry; You're not going to let me live it down, are you?

George; Live what down?

Jerry; 'These pretzels are making me thirsty', that's what! If we eat all these we'll be chugging back five quarts of water just to offset the salt overdose!

George; Well, I'm sorry, but you weren't specific on the measurement of snack food in relation to drinks! Maybe you should do it yourself?

Jerry groans and gets up from his seat and walks back to the kitchen to pour most of the pretzels back into the bag, while George quickly looks about the room for any stray celebrity item he can grab without Jerry seeing. He begins to reach for a Ferrari car model on a table, but jerks back from hearing Jerry's annoyance.

Jerry; Awww. geez.

George; What?

Jerry; Kramer left his disgusting yogurt in my fridge. What the hell...? Looks like he tried to create his own weird flavor. Looks like bits of Ritz cracker in strawberry yogurt and...I think it's bits of cucumber. I gotta dump this down the chute before the rest of my food goes Bizarro.

Jerry leaves, and George leaps from the couch and quickly rifles through Jerry's records, CD's, and papers on his stereo stand and computer desk. He sees a rent check on the desk with Jerry's signature on it and shoves it into his pocket, then he spots Jerry's 12-inch tall figure of Superman on the stereo stand, thinks about it, and grabs it. He runs to the kitchen and finds a paper bag, shoving the statue inside. The front door begins to open and George quickly shoves the paper bag inside the fridge, slams the door, and leans on the fridge.

Jerry; Why'd you close the door? I wasn't going to be gone that long.

George; Uh, yeah. I know. Security. You sure do leave your door open alot, you know.

Jerry; Between visits from you and Elaine and that Human Eating Machine next door no burglar is going to find a spare few seconds to sneak in! So... you thirsty?

George; Uh-huh.

Jerry; Probably from all those pretzels! What do you want?

Jerry steps towards the fridge, but George doesn't move.

George; Oh, anything. What do you have?

Jerry (pausing as he looks between George and his refrigerator.): I'd have a better idea if I actually open up my fridge to see.

George; I'll get you something. What do you want?

Jerry; Again, this works better if I can actually look inside the fridge.

George; Yep. Yessirree. Hey! I'll surprise you! Lemme surprise you!

Jerry (suspiciously); I don't wanna be surprised.

George; You'll be surprised and like it!

Jerry; I don't like this one bit! It's my refrigerator and my groceries! Who do I have to be surprised?

George; Did you buy these groceries?

Jerry; Yeah.

George; Then how can you be surprised? If you already know what's inside, you're incapable of being surprised by my choice!

Jerry (thinks about that); I don't know. Your strange Costanza logic is starting to hurt my brain! But it still sounds fishy to me.

George: What?! Can't a friend surprise another friend to alieve him of some of his miserable existence and bring a little joy into an otherwise boring, mundane life?

Jerry; I thought we were talking about me and not you?

George; We are! I want to surprise you, okay? Okaaaay?!

Jerry; Awright, awright! Surpriiiise me! (picks up the bowl of pretzel;s and heads towards the couch) And you better not be putting Ritz crackers and cucumbers in my drink, or else I'll be really annoyed! That's a weirdo-Kramer thing!

George; Trust me!

George watches Jerry sit down and keeps staring at him, waiting for his friend to look back at him, but he doesn't. As soon as the fridge is opened a few inches Jerry looks at him.

George; I said no peaking!

Jerry; No, you didn't.

George; It was implied! It is supposed to be a secret beverage after all!

Jerry looks back at the TV and George shoves items around as he places the paper bag containing the Superman statue in the back behind some tall condiment bottles and then tries to decide what drink to make for Jerry. Jerry, despite himself, doesn't look back at the kitchen, but does shake his head and try to concentrate on the TV. George appears beside him and hands him a glass of milk. Jerry stares at it, then George, then the milk, the George again, as he slowly takes it from his friend.

Jerry; This is you big secret beverage? Milk? This is supposed to surprise me?!

George; Taste it.

Jerry sniffs it, looks at the glass and doesn't see anything unusual about it, then takes a cautionary sip. He tries to discern the flavour and frowns.

Jerry; It's a little different. What did you put in it?

George (sitting down beside him); Ovaltine!

Jerry (looking at the bottom of the glass to see the chocolate-flavored crystals sitting in a lumpy mess at the bottom of the glass); They taste better if you actually stir them into the milk to create the chocolate flavor, you know? It's not rocket science! But now I know why you failed every chemistry test in high school! And what are you thinking? Ovaltine and pretzels? They don't go together!

George (shrugging); Can you be sure? Check it out! Dunk your pretzel in your Ovaltine and find out for sure!

Jerry (glaring at his friend): Uh-huh. And I see you gave yourself a Pepsi, something that'll go better with salty pretzels! Why didn't I get one, as well?

George; This is the last one. I thought you knew what groceries you had in the fridge?

Jerry sneers and goes to the kitchen, watched carefully by George. Jerry opens a drawer, pulls out a spoon, and slowly, loudly stirs the Ovaltine into his milk, all the while glaring at George as George nervously drinks his Pepsi and eats handfuls of pretzels.


Kramer is happily walking down a street, obviously much richer than before he brought his paintings to Kleinenbourg's gallery. He happens to catch a side wall in an alley littered with graffiti. He pauses and thinks about it, then nonchalantly walks backwards into it. He looks over his shoulder to see that the coast is clear, then he removes a spray can from his overcoat and paints a circle over top the graffiti, then paints a top hat on the head of the circle.


Kramer puts the finishing touches on another , painting over more graffiti.


Kramer paints another , this time in an alleyway without graffiti, hears a police siren, panics and runs away.


Kramer secretly draws on the seat beside him.


George is at his desk, carefully using a felt-tip pen to reproduce Jerry's signature on his Superman statue. Satisfied that it looks close enough to the signature on his rent check, George pulls his computer keyboard closer and begins typing his next eBay sale.

George; Original, excellent condition...signed by and...owned by...none other...than Jerry...Seinfeld. Minimum bid...(George begins to type a number and reconsiders the number, opting for a higher price. He begins to type it, but deletes it and reconsiders once more). Minimum bid...two hundred dollars..two hundred and fift...three...four hundred dollars. (Pauses and leans back, then leans over the keyboard again) And...99 cents.


An early evening view, as the sun is nearly down.


The Pub is bustling with music and song and the sounds of conversation amongst the guests. Elaine enters, looks around, checks her watch, and finds a stool near the corner of the bar, so she can watch the entrance. She sighs with nervousness, and opens her purse to pull out a mirror and check her makeup.

Man's voice; If your reflection is half as beauteous as you, you're a very lucky woman!

Elaine turns around and finds a very handsome man standing behind her. She smiles and nearly blushes, since he's quite good looking.

Elaine; You should see my mirror in my bathroom at home- it shows me a completely different woman every time!

Man; I'm only interested in this particular one at the moment! My name's Ryan Daniels.

He offers his hand and Elaine gently shakes it.

Elaine; Elaine. Elaine Daniels. Uhhh! Benes! I'm Elaine Benes.

Ryan; A charming name! I would have pegged you as a 'Lisa' or 'Laetitia'.

Elaine; 'Laetitia'? Well! Au chaunte! So what're you doing here, Ryan?

Ryan; Chatting up the loveliest lady in New York by my reckoning!

Again, Elaine blushes and smiles, playing with her hair as she checks him out.


Bania, a comedian that Jerry doesn't like, is rooting through his sports jacket for his car keys and finds them. He approaches his car, and is about to unlock it, when he spots something on his engine hood. He cries out in anger as he sees that while he was gone someone has defaced his car. He looks about the street, but doesn't know who drew on his vehicle.

A spray-painted image of is seen on the car.


The infamous Soup Nazi is locking up his new soup kitchen, which is in the process of being renovated before it opens for business. He takes a few steps from his doorstep towards his car when he spins around and yelps in anger as he sees that someone has tagged the lower wall of his soup kitchen.

It's a spray-painted image of .

Soup Nazi: Hadja maraka zookotoos! No soup for you, mystery artist person!


It's later in the evening.


The front door lock to Ryan's apartment jingles and unlocks with a set of keys that Ryan opens the door with, allowing Elaine to enter first. She looks around and a smile slowly fades from her face as she sees how sparse the apartment is. A few pieces of furniture and several boxes are scattered across the large front door area. She looks back at Ryan who tells her,

Ryan; Oh, yes, by the way, I forgot to mention that I'm in the process of moving. I certainly do not live like this day to day!

Elaine; Oh. That's okay. I just thought for a moment that you were the most enthusiastic minimalist I've ever met!

Ryan; I do have some dessert in my refrigerator. Would you like to try some? It's called 'chocolate babka'. Ever hear of it?

Elaine; It's my favorite!

Ryan smiles and leaves for the kitchen. She looks around some more as we hear him shifting items around inside his refrigerator.

Ryan (from the kitchen); Splendid! Since I've come to America I've become positively addicted to it! That and lobster bisque! I can't get enough of that, either!

Elaine (calling across to him); Lobster bisque is the best! The best, Jer-, uh, Ryan! I love it, too!

She looks down and is surprised to see a small bench. She bends down to it and runs her hand across it in surprise. Ryan appears with two plates of babka and two glasses of wine. She stands up and takes her food.

Ryan; Once the water's boiled I'll make us a cuppa.

Elaine (confused); A cup of what?

Ryan; Tea, of course. That's what we call our cup of tea, a 'cuppa'.

Elaine; Oh. Okay. Good to know. Where'd you get this bench? I have one just like it at my place! It was a gift from a friend for my birthday.

Ryan; Really? I had a friend buy this for me on my birthday!

Elaine's eyes light up and she takes a bite of the dessert, sighing at its taste, when something else catches her eye in another corner of Ryan's apartment.

Elaine; What...? What's that doing here?

Ryan (Picks up a large hat) What? This cheeky little number? It's my Urban Sombrero! I absolutely adore it! It's quite jaunty, don't you think?

He puts it on his head to model it, and although he looks silly in it, Elaine just smiles.

Elaine (with her cheeks puffy and filled with babka); bought that?

Ryan (setting down his dessert to put the big hat on to model it): Certainly! I rather fancy it! Isn't it magnificent? A truly American joy! I've never met anyone that likes it as much as I do.

Elaine (Considers telling him that she invented it at J. Peterman's company when she was in charge, but shakes her head): I have one, tooooo! I don't wear it as often as I like, but...oh. You, sir, are beginning to look like The Perfect Man!

Ryan (blushing, he strokes her cheek with the back of his hand): Only when I'm with...The Perfect Woman!

Elaine; So what kind of movies do you like?

Ryan; I can watch just about anything, even the so-called chick flicks, if only to make my ladyfriend happy. I did rather enjoy 'Brown-Eyed Girl' from a few years back.

Elaine; Me, toooo! I thought Wynona Ryder was wonderful in it!

Ryan (nodding); Yes, she was quite extraordinary. Especially when she had to choose between her love of bananas and Tom Hanks's mischievous character! Quite witty. However, I hate to admit it as an Englishman, but I positively loathed 'The English Patient'! It was just so much pretentious drivel.

Elaine (shocked and wide-eyed): I loathed it, toooo! It was drivel! It was the driveliest drivel I'd ever seen!

Ryan; Well! Look at us! We're positively made for each other! We're practically The Perfect Couple! I might just have to follow through on bended knee and ask you to marry me!

Elaine's eyes light up in mid-swallow, but she somehow contains her excitement and smiles and nods, her mind already racing with wedding plans.

Ryan; I'll be right back. I just have to spend a penny Back in a jiff.

Elaine; Huh? Whazzat?

Elaine watches as Ryan leaves to go to the bathroom.

Elaine; Oh. Okay, then. (To herself) My friend used to say 'Water the giraffe' Whatever works for you, !


Alarms are sounded and cries of fear are heard from inside as a pair of bank robbers emerge from the doors of the bank. Passersby freeze, unwilling to help, as one robber runs for the getaway vehicle. He falls over someone bent over on the sidewalk, as his partner watches this and points his gun at the man bent over on the sidewalk. A second later, he's tackled to the ground by a bank security guard, as the fallen robber is held down by the man on the sidewalk.

Security Guard; Good work! Hold him down, mister! What's your name, bud?

Kramer; Uh, Kramer. Cosmo Kramer.

Security Guard; Yeah? Well you're a hero, !

Kramer; Not me, officer! can take all the credit!

The security guard looks down at the sidewalk and sees that Kramer had been in the process of 'tagging' the sidewalk outside the bank, painting yet another image of .


Anderson Cooper; Tonight on 'Anderson 360'...our top story; not the war or the economy, or the scandal in Washington, but rather, the unprecedented phenomenon of...Mister Figgletop!


Larry King; He's called 'Mister Figgletop', but who is he, really?


Jon Stewart; Welcome to 'The Daily Show'! We have a great one for you tonight! But first, I just have to say...Mister Figgletop? Whaaaaa?


Sophie Raworth; Yes, I said, 'Mister Figgletop', and our team of BBC One reporters are on the trail...


Japanese Newscaster; Kon'ya no toppu kiji...(looks at his script and stares at it in confusion)...uh...Missster...Fi-Figgerrtop? Nanite kotta?


The crowd is going wild as Oprah's show begins. She's on a couch, sitting sideways so she can partially face a figure on the other side of the couch, who is shrouded in darkness. It's a man, but otherwise his identity is hidden from everyone.

Oprah; Lad-dieeees! I have a big surpiiiiise for y'all! I have a very special guest on my show at this time! A veritable man of mystery, as you can see! He's asked for complete anonymity, and I've granted his wishes, but in exchange, I, Oprah Winfrey, have been given exclusive worldwide rights to the first ever interview with the man that created...Misterrrrrr Figgletooooooop!

The crowd is half and half, some going wild with excitement, while others sit in stunned shock, most mouthing the words, 'Who the hell is Mister Figgletop?!'

Oprah; So, Mystery Man, if that is your real name! (Oprah chuckles to herself). Tell me about your sudden success.

Mystery Man; Well, Oprah, success and I go hand-in-hand. Always have and always will. Mister Figgletop is simply my latest venture, and one that I wanted to share with the world.

Oprah; I see. And that success has made you an international phe-nom!

Mystery Man; Ah! May I just point out, that I'm aware of the appearances of Mister Figgletop on walls and billboards from here to Vancouver, from Budapest and Tokyo to Sao Paulo and Wellington, New Zealand. But there is really just one Mister Figgletop, and that's the one that I, and I alone, create right here in New York City.

Oprah; We're in Chicago, right now.

Mystery Man; Right. Right, I mean that for the TV viewers of New York City. The fact is, as rich and famous as I already am in my personal life, I've rarely travelled beyond New York state, so those copycats were the re-creations of rank amateurs that sought to copy my je na sais quoi! But I'll gladly take credit for their inspiration and the joy the international community has embraced Mister Figgletop and I with!

Oprah reaches down behind her for a pad of paper and hands it towards the Mystery Man.

Oprah; And what a joy you've brought to me, personally! Ladies, I was going to say, "You get a ! And you get a ! And you get a !" as a way of sharing the joy created by this mystery man, but in the interest of keeping it real, I hope I'm not out of line, but heck, I'm Oprah Winfrey! I'm never out of line! Right, audience?! ()The crowd goes wild with cheers) I was wondering, Mister Mystery Man, would you be so kind as to make a drawing of Mister Figgletop for me?

Mystery Man; Uuhhhhh...

Oprah; Oh, please! I'll gladly pay for it! How does $5000 sound?

Mystery Man (shocked): Fi-fi-fi-fi-five-?

Oprah; Sure! You know I'm good for it! (She turns to the camera and winks, knowingly) I paid that much for breakfast this morning!

Mystery Man; Um. 'kay. Sure. I can do that.

Oprah hands the Mystery Man a drawing pad and pen and he quickly draws something, hands it to her, and sits back.

Oprah; Ooh, thank Hm.

Mystery Man; S-something wrong, Oprah?

Oprah (looking at the drawing close and at arm's length, turning it slightly, and looking between it and the Mystery Man with a scowl on her face); It's just's not quite , is it? It's kinda...wrong.

Mystery Man (sitting up in his chair and showing nervousness in his body language): 'Wrong'? I see nothing wr-wrong with-

Oprah (showing the drawing to the camera); Audience; what do you think? (the audience murmurs disapproval, some of them booing) Look, the head is more oval than round, the mouth doesn't have that pleasant, perfect, curved smile. The hat looks like it's been stepped on, and you didn't even fill it in all the way.

Mystery Man; But, it's not as if I can draw Mr. Fliggletop perfectly every time-

Oprah; Oh, oh, oh, I beg to differ! That's what's sweeping the nation! You're...just a moment. What did you just say?

Mystery Man (shifting uncomfortably on the couch); Nothing. I said I can't draw him perfectly. Every time.

Oprah; Who? Who can't you draw?\

Mystery Man; .

Oprah (glaring at the Mystery Man suspiciously): I should think you'd know the correct name of your own creation, if you did create him! The name is Mister Figgletop!

Mystery Man; That's what I said.

Oprah; Audience?! (The crowd boos loudly, giving him a thumbs-down and begins to shout in anger and suspicion) I'd say we have an issue here, Mystery Man.

Mystery Man; Oh, no. No problem. No prob here, Oprah.

Oprah; I beg to differ. We flew you out here, all expenses paid in first class, we set you up at an exclusive hotel, and catered to your seemingly inexhaustive appetite, drove you to my studio in a very expensive limousine, and now you don't seem to be who you say who you are. I'd call that an issue! Audience?!

Again, the audience goes crazy, screaming for blood. The Mystery Man shifts uncomfortably back and forth on the couch, seemingly looking for a way out until he leaps out into the studio, and out the nearest exit, crying out in fear and panic, his identity finally exposed as the studio lights shine down on him.

It's Newman.


A day time view.


Jerry is looking for something in his apartment as Elaine barges in, a big grin on her face as she swings around to slam Jerry's door shut with gusto.

Elaine; I'm in loooooooove!

Jerry (unimpressed, and checking to see if his door still works); Yeah, well, my door's in traction! (He pauses and re-opens it and finds a strange happy face with a top hat painted on it- it's .) What the hell is this?! When did this happen?!

Elaine; Jerry, who cares?! Don't you don't understand! This is it! I've found the man of my dreams and I'm head over heels in love with him!

Jerry (shutting his front door); Oh? Did you finally get your Jon Bon Jovi poster in the mail?

Elaine (sarcastically); Ha. Ha. I met him completely by mistake! I was set up by George's parents on two different blind dates in the same restaurant, and out of the blue my knight in shining British armor shows up and rescues me!

Jerry; British?

Elaine; You bet your bottom dollar! Er, Euro. Pound?

Jerry; Whatever. (He begins to look around his book shelf and desk for something as he continues) How do you know this guy isn't the guy Frank and Estelle matched you up with originally?

Elaine (shaking her head vehemently); Oh, no. Nonononoooo way! In the first place, Frank set me up with some loser called 'Chipper', and Estelle tried to get me to meet some Spaniard, or something.

Jerry; Hey, maybe it was Ponce DeLeon! He might have found the Fountain of Youth back then, and now he wants to get back into dating!

Elaine; Nope! He's British and sooo adorable! He's sooo perfect! He opens doors for me (unlike some boyfriends), he picks up the check, he does errands for me-

Jerry; So much like American Big Business, you're okay with foreigners getting American jobs.

Elaine; Hey, to get my hands on I'd throw and the CEO's of GM, Microsoft, and Habitat For Humanity into a snake pit to fight it out! He likes the same movies as me, he's got great taste in home decorating, he's impeccably dressed, and can you believe this? He owns an Urban Sombrero!

Jerry (still leafing through his belongings, and sounding distracted): Poor sucker.

Elaine; What's up? What're looking for?

Jerry; Superman.

Elaine; Uh, Jer, I hate to burst your bubble, but I think Lois Lane has dibs on the Man of Steel!

Jerry; No, no, the statue I own! The one I've always had on top of my stereo! He's gone!

Elaine; Finally learned how to fly, huh? That took a long time! Just like Tom Welling doesn't fly on 'Smallville'. Why is that, anyway?

Jerry; This is serious, Elaine! I've had Superman since I graduated from college- he was my graduation present from my parents! And if I don't find him soon, we'll miss his appointment!

Elaine; What appointment?

Jerry; His appoint to be- (Jerry stops himself, suddenly embarrassed) -polished.

Elaine (wide-eyed); Whoa. Wait a second. You...polish...your Superman statue?!

Jerry (embarrassed and looking at the floor, at the ceiling, anywhere but in Elaine's direction); Maybe.

Elaine (incredulous); Wow! That is some serious, nerdy stuff, Jerome! Whoa!

Jerry (indignant): I like a nice, clean, shiny superhero statue, is that so bad?! His cape attracts dust like crazy, and there's a guy on Grand Street that knows how to polish statues like it's nobody's business!

Elaine; Huh! Sounds like he gets nobody's business, if he's marginalized himself to just dusting off Superman's privates!

Jerry; And his cape! Anyways, let's get back to this Hugh Grant-wannabe for a minute. From what you've told me, he sounds a little better than the last guy you dated. What was his name?

Elaine; I've forgotten already. He's filed in my brain as 'The Nose Picker'.

Jerry; Oh, right, the Picker. You kept him around for 2 weeks! That's longer than most contestants on 'The Bachelorette'! What did you see in a nose picker?!

Elaine (shrugging with a little smile); Well...he had big hands. And you know what they say about big hands?

Jerry; In his case, big nostrils?

Elaine (grimacing and about to argue when she stops to think about that): Uh. Yeah. True. (She lightens up and smacks Jerry in the shoulder) But Ryan is sooo different! Did I mention he's adorable, impeccably dressed, and-

Jerry; Yeayeayea. Well, that's nice. So what's the catch?

Elaine; 'Catch'? There is no catch! No catch at all!

Jerry (sceptical); Come on.

Elaine; Hey!!

Jerry (still sceptical): 'laineyyy?

Elaine (her temper rising): I'm telling you, Jer, there is no catch! Not this time! Not with Ryan!

Jerry (shrugs); I give you 48 hours. You'll find something. He'll be the next Close Talker, Quiet Talker, High Talker, Girl Hands, Nose Picker, he'll have the jimmy-legs, the lazy eye, the pink eye-

Elaine; You're really jeopardizing your seat at our wedding, you know that don't you?

Jerry; Wedding?! You're already thinking of marrying this British Casanova?!

Elaine; I'm just saying. But, yeah, I gotta keep my options and my schedule open for an American/British-style wedding. Oh. Gee, I hope we don't have to have Haggis on the menu?

Jerry; That's Scottish. But I'm sure Kramer will be up for it.

Elaine; Anyways, it doesn't matter. I get to see his new apartment tonight! He's moving out of his old place and I might just be asked to decorate it with him! If he plays his cards right, and I know he will, my input into his new place will cement my future with him in his eyes!

Jerry; His lazy eyes?

Elaine grits her teeth and gives him a smack in the shoulder.


A day time view.


Jerry is still looking around for his missing rent check and Superman figure. A knock comes from the door and Jerry pauses to think about this. He's not expecting his friends, and nobody buzzed him from downstairs. He leans close to the door and speaks through it.

Jerry; Who is it?

Male Voice (angry and nasally, seemingly in his early twenties); Superbman84! Sound familiar?!

Jerry (confused and through the door) Excuse me?

Male Voice; Just open the door, CostaBoscoSeven! I've got your crappy Superman figure with me! And I want my money back!

Hearing the name 'Superman' forces Jerry to unlock his door and open it. He finds a greasy, nerd with glasses and badly-matched clothes holding a Fed-Ex box. He's shorter than Jerry, but not afraid.

Jerry; Who are you, again?

Superbman84; I already told, ya, CostaBoscoSeven! I'm Superbman84! Don't tell me that doesn't ring any bells?!

Jerry (looking the young man up and down); You might want to re-think the whole secret identity shtick, Superbman84! You're visiting me in your civilian identity!

Superbman84; Don't get smart with me, Jerry 'CostaBoscoSeven' Seinfeld! Or should I say, 'The one and only Jerry Seinfeld', you egotistical con artist!

Jerry (looks out the hallway); Am I on 'Punk'd'? Is Ashton Kutcher putting you up to this?

Superbman84; Don't try to change the subject, man! Here's your stupid fake statue! Now I want my money back! The $2501.99 I paid for it and the $39.50 I spent on shipping and handling! I'll accept small bills or Travellers checks, Seinfeld, but you better pay up or else!

Jerry; Or else what?

Superbman84; Or else I'll sic my Uncle Luigi on you! And he works part-time for the Mob!

Jerry (sceptical); Part-time, huh? There aren't any full time positions available for him to take? The Mob's cutting back on rub-outs, huh?

Superbman84; I ain't kidding, Seinfeld! And you should be ashamed! Tricking a young,, impressionable mind like mine with your little get-rich schemes on eBay! I thought I was buying a statue signed by the one and only Jerry Seigel, one of the creators of Superman! Not some C-list comedian with the same initials!

Jerry; Heyyy! I resent that! I'm definitely B-list!

Jerry checks the contents of the box, and finds his statue of Superman inside, but the head and arms have been broken off.

Jerry; This is my statue! I've been looking all over for it! And somebody called 'Costabos-'? Costa...Bosco...Seven?! Waitaminute, waitaminute! I know what's going on here!

Superbman84; I also have anger management issues. But can you blame me?! Can you?! CAN YOU, SEINFELD? HUH? HUH?!

Jerry; Settle down, Superbman77, before you inadvertently 'hulk-out' on me and make your teeth turn greener than they already are! Come on in, and I'll tell you what's really happening here...

Grudgingly, the nerd agrees and seems to calm down a little. Jerry closes the door and stares at the broken statue, then the nerd.

Superbman77; You know you have a painted on your door, right?

Jerry (exasperated); Yeah, yeah, I know.


Ryan is in the right-side driver's seat, taking Elaine for a ride. She's wide eyed and impressed, touching every line and contour of the interior, clearly impressed.

Ryan; You're going to adore my new apartment, Elaine! It has a garden, a lovely view of the street and the skyline- if you turn your head at a 45 degree angle towards the east! The bedroom is spacious and there's plenty of closet space...if someone should require it...someone of the womanly gender...?

Elaine (distracted); Yeah. I see. Wow. Is this really...?

Ryan; Yes, an Aston Martin DB5. The same model as Sean Connery drove as James Bond. I love the Aston Martin V12 Vanquish that Pierce Brosnan drove, but, really! Sean Connery will always be the only Bond for me. Don't you agree?

Elaine (still distracted); Yeah, right. Sean Bondery. Cool stuff.

Ryan; So what about it, Elaine?

Elaine; Eh?

Ryan; The closet space? Enough for me and you?

Elaine (excited and looking about and behind); This car has enough closet space for the both of us?! Where?!

Ryan; No, no, darling! My flat, uh, apartment does? What do you say? Care to take our relationship to the next level?

Elaine (wide-eyed and ecstatic): YES! Oh, hel-, that is, oh, blimey, YESYESYES!

Ryan; Smashing!

Elaine; Yes! It is smashing, isn't it?!

Elaine laughs and suddenly realizes what neighborhood she's in, and suddenly seems worried. Ryan notices this and looks about in concern.

Ryan; Something wrong, darling?

Elaine; Oh, it's just that I know this neighborhood all too well! My friend's insane parents live nearby. I'll let you know what alternative routes to take to avoid them! They'll just-whoa! Whoa, there! Don't go down this street, Ryan!

Ryan; Whyever not?

Elaine (trying to duck down in her seat); They live on this street! That's their house straight ahead!

Ryan; Where? Which one? Oh, well, you can tell me later. We're here!

Elaine (scrunched down in her seat) 'Here'? What here?! You live here?! On their street?!

Frank's voice; Chipper! How're you today, son?!

Elaine (muttering and with a pained expression on her face): Oh my God!

Ryan (getting out of his car); Quite well, thank you, Franklin! Elaine? What's wrong?

Elaine sits up and unbuckles her seatbelt, grimacing and realizing the inevitable. She gets out of the car and sees Frank Costanza outside his house. He's surprised to see her but also quite happy.

Frank; Elaine! See?! I told you that Chipper was the one for you!

Elaine (confused); 'Chipper'? Ryan is 'Chipper'?!

Frank; Of course! My young new neighbor from the United Kingdom is quite the fanatic about his fish and chips so I call him 'Chipper'!

Ryan; And my nickname for Franklin is 'F.D.R.', as in 'Franklin Delano Roosevelt', one of Franklin's political heroes!

Estelle's voice; ! Elaine! You're just in time to have dinner with us! I made a big batch of paella! We can celebrate my success in matching you two up!

Estelle walks out of her house with a big bowl of paella, looking proud of herself.

Elaine; You matched us up?! No, that's not right! Ryan and I met on our own! I never met Chipper or Mister...waitasecond! She called you 'Castillo', but your name is 'Daniels', isn't it?

Ryan; Yes, it is. Oh, what a forgetful little sweetheart she is! Estelle, dear, I said I once lived on 'Castillo Street', not that my surname is 'Castillo'!

Estelle; Oh. Whatever. (Turns to Frank) I told you I'd set her up with the perfect guy!

Frank; You?! I picked out Chipper for her first! So I win!

Estelle; Like hell! You couldn't even provide a normal name for him!


Ryan (to Elaine); They're jolly well barmy, aren't they? So full of beans! So perfect for one another, I should say! I still fancy them for some laughs. We can visit them all the time now that I'm right next door to them, so you'll- Elaine? Elaine, darling, where're you going, love?

Elaine (waving down a cab as she's standing in the middle of the street, and quickly getting into one that stops next to her); I'd like to say it's not you, Ryan, it's me,'s you! It's you, it's you, it's youuuuu! Anybody that goes by the nickname of 'Chipper' and lives next door to those two nutjobs is no match for me! Bye!

Ryan watches helplessly and speechless, as the cab drives away. Frank and Estelle watch it leave, then he looks at her.

Frank; Aw, what the hell. I'm one for four now.


Elaine, George, and Kramer are all sitting on Jerry's couch, in various stages of depression and sadness, as Jerry sits at his kitchen nook, carefully gluing his Superman statue back together.

George; So I'm banned from eBay. No more celebrity memorabilia selling for me. They've even warned me not to even browse other items for sale, or else they'll transmit a virus into my computer and wipe all my files out.

Kramer; They can't do that!

George; Can't they? I dared to try it and you know what my computer displays when I turn it on?

Kramer; No, what?

George; 'Have a nice day, you jerk!' Mandarin! Every line of on my computer is instantly translated into Chinese! And not just phonetic Chinese, but their squiggly, scratchy lettering! And on top of that I have to repay some snivelling little geek over $2500 for supposedly trying to gyp him!

Jerry (from the kitchen); You were trying to gyp him!

George; No, I wasn't! Not the way he thought! Sure I wrote your name on it! How was I supposed to know that Jerry Seigel was a co-creator of Superman and in his insane fanboy, Coke-bottle-glasses way this little doofus would mentally register 'Seinfeld' as 'Seigel'?! It's not fair, I tell ya!

Elaine; Oh, who cares, George?! I found the man of my dreams, the honest-to-goodness Mister Perfect, Mister Right, Mister Everything, and he turns out to be your parent's neighbor! That's a complete deal breaker!

George; So what if he lives next to my parents?! How long do you think that'll last?! He'll be running for the hills in two months, tops!

Elaine (she thinks about this, but shrinks back into the couch): Awwww, heck, it still doesn't matter! He'll just ditch everything and run back to England! He's gone! Gone, gone, gone, gone! And even if he did stay, your parents would just contaminate him with their ideas and wonky personalities, and he'd no longer be Mister Perfect! He'd be Mister Broken! (Sarcastically) You can thank Frank and Estelle for me while you're at it!

George; Oh, I haven't even begun to 'thank them' for the life I've been stuck with, thanks to them, so get in line, baby!

Jerry (from the kitchen, carefully gluing Superman's head to his finished body); He's got a point.

Elaine; You be quiet over there! Just fix your dolly and keep out of this! (She holds her nose and makes face) And by the way, just what kinda glue are you using to fix him, anyway?! It smells like skunk and toxic waste!

Jerry picks up the tube, squints, and tries to read it.

Jerry; I think it's Russian.

Kramer; Kazakhstanian. I got it from Bob Sacamano and he bought it in Little Italy. And she's right- it does stink. (Looks over his shoulder) Unless you forgot to do your laundry and it's actually you, buddy?

Jerry; Hey, I'm clean as clean can be! Unlike a bunch of city streets and apartment doors I can mention...

Kramer (embarrassed, and shrinking down into the couch); Uh. Yeah. I'll be paying for that for a while!

George; I thought you were going to get rich with ?

Kramer; So did I! Until -

George and Elaine (in unison); Kleinenbourg!

Kramer; Whatever! Well, it seems I somehow channelled the artwork of some little Dutch boy named 'Geert' and his world famous character, ' '! The similarities were too close, so Keinenbourg, Piotr, and Answell have all pulled out from displaying my works of art, and now I need Jackie Chiles help in fighting the copyright infringement charges! Oh, and the $7350 I've been fined by the city of New York for tagging, i.e., my so-called graffiti that is !

George; $7350?!

Kramer (nodding); You got it, cowboy! $350 per tag times twenty-one that they could find! Good thing Newman had some black paint on hand to cover up the other dozen or so paintings of I painted!


Monk is staring straight ahead, his teeth grinding, his eyes wide with rising anger, and his forehead wet with perspiration. He's clenching and unclenching his fists as he stares at his wall behind his restaurant.

In place of is an even bigger splotch of black paint on his wall, which also has splatters against his garbage cans and back door.

Monk (hissing under his breath between clenched teeth); Kramerrrr!


Kramer; And somehow I've managed to piss off Oprah Winfrey! I never even met her! What did I ever do to her?

Jerry; That'll teach you guys not to be greedy, not to be picky, and not to be...well...Kramer.

Elaine (standing up); Whatever. I gotta go! I can't stand that stinky glue anymore!

George leaps up and Kramer stands up, too.

George; I'm out of here, too. This place is starting to smell like my Dad's feet!

Jerry; Okay, all right, I'm going, too! Might as well give Superman a chance to heal and let the glue dry. Who's up for coffee at Monk's?

George; Me, I guess.

Elaine; If you're paying, I'm buying.

Kramer; He better pay! I won't have any money for the next eighteen months!

George starts to walk towards the door when Jerry stands in front of him, holding out his hand.

Jerry: Hold it right there, CostaBoscoSeven! Before we leave...hand it over.

George is unsure then nods and reaches into his jacket pocket and produces Jerry's rent check.

Jerry (sarcastically); Kinda important!

Kramer; Oh, hey, pal, grab your jacket- it's raining out there.

Jerry; Thanks.

George, Elaine, and Kramer leave first, then Jerry follows, whipping his jacket off of his coat hook near his door. Unseen to him, the jacket smacks the statue of Superman. The door closes as Superman teeters and totters, finally falling to the floor, and breaking into even more pieces than Superbman77 left it in.