Blank In Wonderland, Part 1

Rated: PG (fantasy violence)

Set: Wrap-around sequences set around August 1976

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and having nothing to do; once or twice she peeped she had peeped into book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations 'and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice, 'without pictures or conversations?'

“MOM! Mom, come on! Dad will be around to pick us up any minute! Come play croquet with us!” 

“Yeah, Brett,” snickered Charles Nelson Reilly next to her, “I want to see you play croquet.”

“Like you'd be any better. Did they have to mention their father, Charlie?” Brett Somers made a face and took another sip of iced tea with gin, pushing Alice In Wonderland aside. “I'm not looking forward to seeing him as it is, even just picking up the boys for the weekend. That's really why I invited the panelists to my place after the taping, to make me feel better.”

“Wish Gene and Mary Wickes could have come.” Gary yawned almost as widely as his tiny daughter in his lap. “Mary said she was spending the weekend with her grandkids, and Gene had to fly back to Cape Cod for some gardening event with Helen. Gene really would have livened up things. I can hear his bad Dracula imitations already.” 

“Brett,” Charles whispered softly as Gary returned to bouncing the fussy baby on his knee, “how are things...you know...going? With Jack and all?”

She sighed as she dropped the book on the faded wood patio table. “It's rough, Charles. Jack keeps trying to whittle down his alimony payments, and he wants half of everything we have. All we do when we're at court is fight. All we do when we're together is fight. It's like...he's not the man I knew when we were doing live TV twenty years ago and making out in the bathrooms at the theater. He just growls at me.”

Charles frowned. “And you growl back. I've heard you two fight. You've done it on the show.”

“Of course I growl back!” Brett's mouth tightened. “I don't take any of his guff, and he knows it. We're so competitive. It's part of...well, part of where the trouble comes from.”

Red and blue balls whizzed past her head. “Boys, be careful! Dickie, are you playing croquet, or are you playing baseball? That nearly took my nose off!”

Richard Dawson trotted over, his sons Gary and Mark fast on his heels, looking impeccable as ever in his white and blue sailor blouse. “Sorry, Brett, but I do think your nose would look better that way.”

“That's right, Miss Somers,” Gary added in a lilting voice that made him sound like a younger version of his father, “we didn't mean to hit it so hard! It got away from us.”

“Yeah, Mom.” Her son David, tall and lanky and dark-haired like her, ambled after them. “Croquet isn't my bag. I guess I don't know my own strength.”

“Your father always made that excuse. You're worse than he is sometimes.” She sighed. “Would you boys like some lemonade? You have to be hot and thirsty after your game.”

“Good idea, Mom.” Dave leaned his blue-ringed mallet against the nearest tree. “You guys want some lemonade? I know where it is in the fridge.” 

“Don't drink it all!” Brett yelled after the four boys as they trotted towards the door. “Us grown-ups might want a little too, you know!”

Richard settled on the ground next to her. “They'll be fine, Brett. I know my boys. They won't drink an entire pitcher that isn't theirs.”

“You may trust yours,” Brett muttered, “but I'm not sure about mine. I wish I could at least deal with David. It's not so hard with Adam. He didn't know his father when...well, when things were better. But Dave's older. He remembers the good times. He's so much like his father, so damn stubborn and grumpy all the time...”

Richard put a beefy brown hand on her shoulder. “Brett, I know we don't always get along, but I have been through a divorce. It was hard for me when Diana went back to England. It's still hard, but dating again has helped.”

“Dating...” Brett shook her head. “I haven't dated in almost two decades. I'm not even sure I know how to anymore. I'm just...too old for this, Dickie.”

“You? Too old?” Richard smirked as he sipped his lemonade. “Did I hear you admit you’re old?”

“No.” Brett gave him her most scathing mock-glare. “Some of us haven't been doing this for as long as you have.” She raised her eyebrow as a huge snore emerged from Gary at the picnic table. “You think we should wake up the little mouse over there? He's half-in the iced tea pot.”

“I'm sure his daughter will, sooner or later,” Richard chuckled. “Brett,” he added, his handsome tanned face becoming more serious, “if there's anything I can do, just tell me. I don't want you to be dragged through the mud like I was.”

“Dickie, that's very gallant of  you,” Brett started gently, “but I don't need a white knight to come to my rescue.” She sighed as Betty White and Allen Ludden strolled around her rose garden, admiring the red and white blooms hand in hand. “Look at those two. They're so crazy about each other, it's disgusting. Betty wonders why we're always teasing them on the show!”

“I think they're cute!” Charles sighed dreamily. “Someday, I'm going to find a guy who looks at me the way Allen and Betty look at each other.”

Richard snickered. “And what planet would he come from?”

Betty and Allen arrived just as Charles reached over to smack the chuckling Richard in the back of his head. “We seem to have arrived at an interesting time.” Betty's laugh tinkled like the water through the mini-fountain in the back of her yard. “Ok, ok, you two. No violence. I'm sure the boys are around somewhere. They don't need to see that.”

“They've probably seen worse on TV.” Allen nodded at the garden, the sun glowing on his wavy white hair and glasses as thick as Charles'. “How do you get your roses to grow like that? Those red and white roses especially. Betty and I are hoping to plant a rose garden when we move to Carmel after our house is completed. Do you paint them or something?”

“I must have your secrets!” Betty added with an impish grin. “Or I could take your head off!”

Brett smirked as she got to her feet. “I'd like to see you try! No, I don't paint them. Just give them lots of love and lots and lots of food and water. Here, I'll show you.” 

“That's all right. I was teasing.” Betty squeezed her husband's hand. “We really need to get going. Allen has to talk to Mark Goodson and Ira Skutch. I know Allen's working hard on Stumpers!, but they may be interested in reviving Password in a different format along with that.”

“I wish you luck,” Brett told her sincerely. “I know that's your baby, Allen. Hopefully Goodson is less of a stick-in-the-mud about your show than he is about Match Game. Gene told me he's pestering him again about being so comedy-oriented and not focusing on the game.”

Richard wrinkled his perfectly tanned nose. “The last time we focused on the game, we nearly went off the air. It’s comedy or nothing. I hope Ira can talk sense into Mr. Goodson. It's what he's best at, really. He certainly isn't much of a judge. If I had a dime for every time we had to argue for an answer that made sense, I'd be able to buy the damn studio.”

“He's just following the rules, Rich.” Allen sighed. “I don't envy him. He can't exactly use a dictionary, like the judge does for Password. It's not really his fault. It's how Goodson set up the game.”

Brett looked at her watch. “It's getting late. I have to make sure the boys are packed and ready to go. Charles, could you do me a favor and wake up Gary? He's still snoring back there.”

“Janet should be around soon with her car. Gary’s car is in the shop, and she had to run errands.” Charles stood and patted Brett's shoulder. “Want to go out for a drink after they leave?”

She sighed. “Yeah, Charles. I'll need it.”

“We'll see you later.” Betty gave Brett a hug. “Call me after the boys leave? We commiserate. Better yet, I'll join you and Charles. Allen's appointment will probably run over.” 

“Sure.” Brett looked over her shoulder. “The kids seem a little quiet in there. I'd better go see what they're up to, before they eat me out of house and home.”

The four boys were in the kitchen, gulping lemonade and stuffing potato chips in their mouths. “Hey,” Adam was saying, “let's see how many I can get in my mouth! Dave has the record so far.”

“That's nice to know.” Brett grabbed the potato chip bag. “Enough. You'll spoil your appetites for dinner.”

“Mom,” David complained, “we're just having fun. Dad will probably take us out for pizza or let us eat out of the fridge anyway. He was talking about taking us to the races...”

“I wish he wouldn't expose you to his vices.” Brett shook her head. “Gary, Mark, your dad's waiting for you. Time to go home. These two need to pack.”

“Mom,” Adam added as the younger boys rushed out the door, “can't you come with us?”

She sighed and made a face. “Sorry, kiddo. Your father and I...aren't getting along right now. It's best if I stay here.”

David slammed the refrigerator door shut. “Since when did you ever?”

“Hey!” Brett grabbed the refrigerator door before he could do it again. “That's not fair. Things have changed in the last few years, Davy. You know that.”

“Oh, come on, Mom!” He rolled his eyes. “You've always fought. You fight over everything!”

“Can you just come with us for a little while, Mom?” Adam pleaded with those big dark eyes that looked so much like Jack's. 

“I'm sorry, hon. I'm the last person your father wants to see.” She glared at David, who stuffed his mouth full of chips again. “While you're living in my house, you'll obey my rules.” She grabbed the bag. “Have you finished packing?”

“No.” He glared right back, enough to almost think she was looking in a masculine mirror. 

“Then get going.” She gave him a gentle shove. “Bad enough your father's already late. He should have been here to pick you up twenty minutes ago.” 

She peered out her front door, checking her watch. Still no Jack. Why couldn't any man in her life ever be on time? Even Charles almost never arrived on time for tapings. She was almost never late. Everyone could count on her to be on time for every taping, every rehearsal, every teacher conference and school play. 

I should have taken that as a sign, she thought bitterly as she peered out the front door. No Jack or that old red Ford Capri of his. You could probably hear that thing clopping along before you could see it. The dusty road outside their house was empty, except for the occasional rabbit or porcupine snuffling along or bright pink plastic flamingo being blown over.

“Mom?” David shuffled outside, dragging the battered duffel bag she gave him for a school trip two years ago. “When's Dad getting here?”

Adam frowned, adjusting the straps on his backpack. “Do you think he forgot about us?”

“He'd better not have.” Brett sighed. “Why don't you boys help me clean up the croquet game? That won't take very long.”

“All right,” David grumbled. “But only for a minute. Dad will be here soon.”

Richard and his boys were already gone by the time they went through the door and into the backyard. Charles tried to wake up Gary, who looked more like a mouse half-asleep in the iced tea pot. 

“Do you think Mr. Burghoff would be mad if we said Gina looked more like a little pig laying there than a kid?” Adam asked with a snicker as he gathered the wickets.

“Probably,” Brett chuckled. “But that doesn't mean it isn't true.”

Brett just picked up her copy of Alice In Wonderland and stuffed it under her arm when she swore she saw a flash of white darting around near the back fence. “Oh, my ears and whiskers!” it rambled. “I'm going to be so late! What will the Queen say? She'll say 'off with your head,' and they'll be no more White Rabbit, that's what she'll say! She'll be furious! And if the Red King finds out that I'm not playing the game his way, I'll be a stuffed rabbit on some child's bed!”

Ok, that was weird. Maybe it was her imagination, but that “rabbit” sounded a lot like Bill Daily, a jumpy sitcom actor who frequently sat next to her on the show. 

“Mom!” Adam darted over. “I swear I just saw a giant White Rabbit wearing a fancy blue coat with a lot of brass buttons and carrying a pocket watch!”

“We must have dreamed it.” Dave's eyebrows made almost the same incredulous expression as his mother's. “Rabbits don't talk, and they don't sound like Bob Newhart's weird neighbor.”

“Boys,” Brett said as she dropped the book on the chair, “I'm going to investigate. You stay here and wait for your father.”

“No way!” David forged ahead. “We're not sitting around and letting you do everything! I want to see this, too. Dad will wait.”

“Yeah!” Adam grinned, tugging her along. “This isn't something you see outside of cartoons. Maybe he knows Bugs Bunny.”

The rabbit kept muttering nervously, right up to the rose bushes on the edge of her property. “How did he fit in there?” David muttered as he managed to hop right in and disappear.

“I don't know.” Brett frowned. “We don't need to be trespassing.” 

“Mom, live a little! We may never get to do this again!” Her oldest son dropped on his knees and crawled under the brambles. His brother followed him easily.

“Boys,” Brett called out, “stay with me! I don't want you getting lost back there, or running into poison ivy or something.” She dropped to the grass and scooted under the brambles.

The brambles that grew wild along the fence were a maze of scratchy limbs and thorns that stuck her and grabbed at her pink flowered blouse and white shorts. Why did she have to wear that gauzy blouse, anyway? It ripped if you sneezed wrong. “Boys, wait!” She tugged through, wincing as the thorns scratched her head. “Of all the times to wear my real hair...”

She was so busy keeping up with the boys, she didn't notice where her hands were going. “Boys?” She called. “Bill? Bill Daily, if this is a joke, it stopped being funny two minutes ago! Boys, where are you? Boys?” She scrabbled along the pebbly ground, her hands scraping against the hard dirt. “Boys? Bill? Charles? Gary? Bill, what's going on...yiiiiiiiiii!”

The hard dirt suddenly gave way as the ground sloped so far downwards, she couldn't stop herself from slipping. Grabbing at the dirt and roots only made it scrabble further. The ground finally crumbled all together, sending her tumbling into the darkness.