by Sam Shelstad
This is what I’m up against. I had a perfect life with a loving partner and a son who laughed at Chandler with me and now I have nothing. I have Friends, yes, but maybe not for long. So should I give up? Should I throw in the towel, NBC-style, and just forget about Susan and Gabe and the Thursday nights we shared together? Did our little sitcom “run its course” by Season Five, before the lawsuit and Levon and Gabe’s accident messed everything up? No. I will never give up. I’ll reunite my family, whatever it takes. I’m trying to drink less and ease up on the back pills. I can do it. And so can you.
Let’s save Friends, Ted. In a dark, scary world we need all the light we can get and Friends shines brilliantly. Let it shine, Ted. Let the light of it beam down on all of us.
Sincerely,
Ernesto DeRosa
∙
Dear Fan,
Thank you so much for your thoughtful letter. We at NBC recognize that the quality programming we work hard to bring you would not exist without your support. As a token of our appreciation, we have included a complimentary packet of postcards highlighting NBC’s exciting new fall lineup.
Yours,
Stephanie Lyons, Audience Outreach
NBC Studios, 30 Rockefeller Plaza, New York, NY
∙
Dear Ted Cohen/Stephanie,
I warned you Stephanie. I want to talk to Ted. Tell Ted that I need to talk to him. I need him to hear what I have to say. Let’s say, hypothetically, that Ted is ignoring my heartfelt letters. That I make myself vulnerable in writing these letters but still he ignores them. And, hypothetically, let’s say I wanted to talk to him so much that I hired a private detective whom I met through the lawyer who handled my Paul’s lawsuit. Let’s say I gave this detective some of Gabe’s college fund and that he found Ted’s address in Los Angeles. Let’s say I’m confused why the NBC website would tell people to write its producers in New York if they actually live on the west coast—let’s say I’m sick of playing games. Let’s say I have enough college funds and back pills to get me to Ted’s house. Let’s say I have the information, money and time to get me to the real Casa de Cohen where we can talk about these issues of great importance face to face. Let’s say I’m sick of postcards and I need Ted Cohen to listen. Really listen.
So tell Ted that I hope he reads my letters and writes me back ASAP because that would be a whole lot easier than having to drive across three states and spend more of Gabe’s college money to see Ted in person. Tell him I’m waiting. And if he’s too busy to write back, you can tell him I’m coming for him. Hypothetically.
Sincerely,
Ernesto DeRosa
∙
Dear Fan,
Thank you so much for your thoughtful letter. We at NBC recognize that the quality programming we work hard to bring you would not exist without your support. As a token of our appreciation, we have included a complimentary packet of postcards highlighting NBC’s exciting new fall lineup.
Yours,
Stephanie Lyons, Audience Outreach
NBC Studios, 30 Rockefeller Plaza, New York, NY
∙
It began to rain and Ted needed a Pall Mall so he took DeRosa’s jean jacket from the other chair. It fit him perfectly. He went outside.
It had been a month now and the coma was still going strong. Ted was determined, however, to ride this thing out with the stubborn Texan. I’m not giving up, he thought, and DeRosa’s not giving up either. He’s going to wake up and get what’s coming, the schmuck. I’m getting my answers. That’s just how it’s going to be.
Outside, Ted stood under a palm tree and lit up. He put his lighter into DeRosa’s jacket pocket and noticed there was something else in there. He pulled out a thick stack of postcards.
Scrubs, American Dreams, Miss Match, F.R.I.E.N.D.S., etc. They were TV-show ads.
Then he noticed the back of the postcards which were covered in a tiny, neat handwriting. It looked like a script. The cards were numbered in the bottom right-hand corner. Ted shuffled them into order and began to read.
“The One Where Joey Comes Back From LA,” S10E12, F∙R∙I∙E∙N∙D∙S, by Ernesto DeRosa (excerpt)
Int. Central Perk Coffeeshop – Day
Gunther hands Ross a cup of coffee over the counter which he brings to the couch where Phoebe and Chandler are sitting. Ross is wearing large pink swim goggles on his forehead.
Chandler
Have a seat, Aquaman.
Ross
What?
Phoebe
I don’t think he realizes.
Ross
Realizes what?
Chandler
Honestly, don’t worry about it. Stay focused on the task at hand. (beat) Looking for sunken treasure.
Ross
(touches his forehead and takes off the goggles)
Oh man, I forgot to take them off after the gym again. I wore these on the subway!
Joey walks in the door, his clothes dirty and hair a mess. He smiles at his friends, revealing a missing tooth.
Joey
I’m back guys! You have no idea what I’ve just been through.
Phoebe
You seem to be forgetting a lot of things lately, Ross.
Joey
(sits down in empty chair by couch)
Guys, I’m back!
Ross
You’re telling me. Last week, I forgot to bring my notes to class and had to deliver a three-hour lecture on an Archie comic I happened to have in my briefcase.
Joey
Hello? Can anyone hear me? Anyway, listen to this. So things didn’t go quite as planned in Los Angeles…
FADE TO:
Int. Airplane
Joey looks out plane window.
Joey (V.O.)
As you guys know, I flew down to LA to confront Todd Cowell. Remember, he’s the big producer of Days of Our Lives? I was so mad the whole flight, like how can he cancel this classic show? Especially right after I come back as my old character, Dr. Drake Ramoray.
Cut to:
Ext. LAX Airport
Joey’s plane lands.
Joey (V.O.)
I had all this stuff ready that I was gonna say, about how I really needed the part and how it’s this beloved soap opera. I just wanted to talk to the guy, man to man, and try and make him see why cancelling Days of Our Lives would be a bad idea.
Cut to:
Ext. Sunset Strip – Day
Joey rides in a taxi, looking out the window as he cruises the Strip.
Joey (V.O.)
Maybe I was losing my mind to think I could save the show. My back was still messed up from tripping over Emma’s stroller and I was taking a lot of painkillers. I’m not sure what I was thinking. But anyway, as it turns out, the address my agent Estelle gave me was for the wrong Todd Cowell!
Cut to:
Ext. Todd’s House – Day
The taxi pulls away, leaving Joey in front of a small bungalow. A homeless man drags a garbage bag down the sidewalk and a siren rings in the distance.
Joey (V.O.)
It didn’t seem like the kind of place a big Days of Our Lives producer would choose to live in. Just a small house in a nothing neighborhood. No fancy cars in the driveway, no fountains or statues.
Cut to:
Ext. Todd’s House – Night
Joey peers through a window.
Joey (V.O.)
I did some surveillance and saw that it wasn’t the right guy. It was some old man. I had driven all that way, though, so I went and booked a motel room.
Cut to:
Int. Motel Room – Day
Joey lies in bed, watching Days of our Lives on tv.
Joey (V.O.)
I still had some money left over from Dr. Drake Ramoray’s first paycheque. I figured I could stay in Los Angeles for a few more nights and try and get Estelle to figure out the real Todd Cowell’s address. (beat) Estelle wasn’t answering her phone. I called and I waited but nothing. And with these long-d
istance calls and the motel and the flight, plus all the money I gave Estelle earlier to track down Todd? (beat) I was broke.
Cut to:
Ext. Motel Parking Lot – Day
Joey walks out of the motel and through the parking lot, towards the busy streets of LA.
Joey (V.O.)
I had nothing. No money, no food, no place to stay. I was out on the street. And then I remembered Todd Cowell. Not the producer guy, the old man.
Cut to:
Ext. Todd’s House – Night
Joey walks up the driveway to the window he had peered through earlier, pops out the screen and climbs into Todd’s house.
Joey (V.O.)
I figured an old man would go to bed early and would probably have hearing problems, so what would be the big deal if I went and stayed at his place?
Cut to:
Int. Todd’s Kitchen – Night
Joey drinks milk straight from the carton then puts the carton in the fridge. He stretches, yawns, climbs into a cupboard beneath the sink and shuts the door.
Joey (V.O.)
Just somewhere safe where I could crash until I figured out what to do—until I heard back from Estelle. I had to sleep in a cupboard in case the old man came out in the middle of the night and caught me. Obviously, this wasn’t good for my sore back. On top of that I ran out of my painkillers.
Joey crawls out of the cupboard and winces, holding his back.
Joey (V.O.) (cont’d)
I was sleeping in a cramped little kitchen cupboard every night and going through withdrawal from my back medicine at the same time. It was rough. One night I even took a bite out of a battery I found on Todd’s counter.
Joey picks a battery off the counter, takes a bite and winces.
Joey (V.O.)
I thought it was a baby carrot! I lost a tooth.
Cut to:
Ext. Sunset Strip – Day
Joey walks the strip holding a wad of bloody Kleenex to his mouth and limping slightly.
Joey (V.O.)
So during the day I’d wander the streets aimlessly. I was broken. I began to write an original Days of Our Lives script so I could show Todd Cowell that there was still life to the show. Of course, this was just further delusion. The show would be cancelled. I had failed. (beat) And I realized something then, walking those streets. It didn’t matter if the show came to an end. That’s not what’s important.
Fade to:
Int. Central Perk Coffeeshop – Day
Joey
You guys are important. You three, plus Rachel and Monica. My best friends. You’re all that matters to me, not some acting role. Now you want to know how I got back home?
Phoebe
Alright, I should get going. I’ve got a date with that magician tonight!
Chandler
Make sure he doesn’t try to saw you in half.
Ross
I should get going too.
Chandler
Meeting Jughead for burgers, Ross?
Ross
Very funny.
Joey
Guys?
Phoebe, Chandler and Ross exit.
Joey
What’s going on? Where are you going? Can anyone hear me? Guys?
Fade to black
∙
Five weeks after Ted Cohen put him in a coma, DeRosa woke up. A nurse called and Ted immediately drove to Cedars–Sinai.
Ted was relieved. This was what he had been waiting for. But another part of him, the part that had grown fond of the afternoons talking to the lifeless Texan in room B300, was disappointed it was over. As well, he lost his urge to yell, to lecture after reading the script he’d found in DeRosa’s jacket. There was something so vulnerable about the Joey character that Ted’s anger was replaced with feelings of sympathy. He worried for the schmuck.
Ted had his questions, though. Even more questions after having read the script. He wanted to know if DeRosa was really an actor who’d mistaken Ted for a TV producer and what he did back in Texas, if he was in fact from Texas; where his family was, what he’d do next and if he wanted his tooth back. All the blind spots that had been giving him a headache since the incident would soon be illuminated.
When Ted arrived at the hospital, Dr. Ramirez said DeRosa was doing well, given the circumstances. There was some minor brain damage but overall it looked like he would be fine. DeRosa had been awake for only a few minutes that morning but each day those few minutes would gradually stretch into hours, until eventually he’d be back to normal. The doctor said they needed to watch him closely and run some tests but that Ted was permitted to a moment with the patient. Ted went into the room and sat with DeRosa. DeRosa was asleep, but Ted spoke to him anyway. He described his car.
Every day that week, Ted drove to Cedars–Sinai. He’d tell the man in the bed what he had for breakfast that day, whether it was cereal or toast with jam, what he’d dreamt the night before and what the weather was doing. Sometimes DeRosa would open his eyes but he wouldn’t speak. The same thing had happened with Ted’s wife Annie before she’d died; one day she just stopped responding to Ted’s questions but he knew she was listening because her eyes were open. DeRosa wasn’t dying, however. It was Annie’s situation in reverse—DeRosa was coming back. And the following week, on a Thursday morning, he spoke. Ted was sitting in a chair telling DeRosa how the hospital had finally reached his family—his ex-wife and son had been away in Europe—and that they were on their way to Los Angeles when DeRosa finally spoke.
“Your son’s coming here, DeRosa,” Ted said. “You’ll probably see him tomorrow.”
DeRosa coughed.
“DeRosa?”
“You’re Ted Cohen,” DeRosa said.
“Yes. I’m Ted Cohen and you’re DeRosa.”
“What day?”
“It’s October. October the eighth.”
“No. Day of the week.”
“Oh. It’s Thursday.”
“Thursday.”
“Thursday.”
DeRosa went quiet again, his cardiac monitor filling the lull.
“Is there TV?” DeRosa said suddenly.
“In here? In your room? Yes,” Ted said.
“Is there cable?”
“I think so. I’d have to check, but last time…”
“Can you come back?”
“What?”
“Can you come back tonight? For eight?”
Ted checked with the nurse when he left. She said the arrangement would be okay so he returned to Cedars–Sinai that night. As instructed, he rolled the TV up beside the bed and turned it to NBC for eight o’clock. The show had all the same characters as the postcard script. It was pretty good, Ted thought. This DeRosa guy wasn’t so bad. Ted liked hanging around his bed; it was probably the first time he’d enjoyed someone else’s company since Annie. DeRosa wasn’t speaking, but he was awake. His eyes were wide for the duration of the show.
When the credits rolled at the end of the episode, Ted looked over towards the bed and saw that DeRosa was crying.
“Hey, easy there,” Ted said. “It’s okay, DeRosa. Where’s the clicker? Something else will come on. We’ll watch something else now.”
He found the clicker on the floor and quickly turned the channel to a cooking show. A fat man dicing onions. DeRosa eventually stopped crying and went back to sleep. Ted felt himself drifting off too. He put his feet up along the side of the bed and slouched back. Why not, he thought. A nurse would wake him up.
“Good night, DeRosa,” he said. “Thanks for having me over.”
DeRosa’s monitor beeped.
Spirit Pals
So things with Dad are kind of out of control. When’s the last time you talked to Mom? You should really call her, Jane.
You have no idea. You remember how that house on our old street was burglarized earlier this year and how Dad started freaking out? He’s worse. Mom doesn’t know what to do. You really should give her a call, Jane.
Well
I guess he bought all these cameras and floodlights and put heavy duty locks on the doors. Which is whatever. A little paranoid but makes some sense. But for some reason he bought cameras and everything for Mom and Tyler too. For Tyler’s place which is kind of weird. Like, the guy’s sleeping with his wife and now Dad’s supplying their security equipment? Just bizarre. Hold on a sec…
Sorry, cat wanted in. So, yeah…
What? I’ve had him for three years, Jane! You must have met him before. George. When you were here in the spring. How do you not know I have a cat?
Anyway, so Dad became obsessed with his home security system with the cameras and everything. And it was all somewhat normal but then he got this Beware of dog sign.
No, he didn’t get a dog—it was like a ruse.
A ruse. So people breaking in would think there was a dog.
Exactly. And that’s fine too but then I guess he cut out a piece of the sign in the shape of bite marks. It was supposed to look like this big dog had bitten off the corner of the sign.
I don’t know. I think it was meant to be the sort of thing where a potential burglar sees the sign and the bite marks and on some subconscious level thinks there is this wild dog living there with giant teeth that will attack anything. Like a dog that eats its own cautionary sign.
Right. And from there, things started getting really weird. I can’t believe you don’t know any of this. He’s completely lost it. I mean, this is coming from Mom but still—you can kind of picture him doing this stuff now. So listen. After Dad cut the bite marks out of the sign, he decided to take it even further. Tried to pump up the illusion of this large, psychopathic dog living in his yard. Apparently he got hold of an official carrier’s bag from Canada Post and attached it to the front lawn along with all these envelopes and junk mail.
Not kidding, yes. Attached. He put, I guess, little nails through each envelope and flyer and of course the mail bag so everything would stick to the lawn and not blow away. According to Mom it’s all still in the yard. The desired effect of this little display being, I don’t know, that someone about to break in will see the dog sign and all the mail stuff strewn about and then think that this vicious dog attacked or maybe even killed the mailman. I’m trying to get Mom to take pictures and send them to me but she keeps forgetting. Oh yeah, have you been getting these emails from Tyler?