The Golden Girls Bonanza Extravaganza (by Robin)

Summary:  The Long Lost Script of a REALLY Lost Episode

Word Count:  1000



                       The Golden Girls Bonanza Extravaganza


The Golden Girls enter the kitchen and start arranging snacks at the table.

DOROTHY: I can’t believe we sat here all day watching a “Bonanza Extravaganza” for eight hours. Eight hours of a fifty-year-old western.

BLANCHE: I can’t believe I am here sitting with you on a Saturday night and don’t have a date.

ROSE: Be nice, Blanche…you know you enjoyed watching the shows.

DOROTHY: Those Cartwrights certainly were handsome. Which one is your favorite?

BLANCHE: Oh that Little Joe is so … so… hubba hubba… I especially like those episodes when he is sooo young and speaks with a southern accent… his slim hips. That gun belt. The quick draw. (she shivers) Those green eyes… Is it getting hot in here? (she fans herself with the place mat) So young, so virile, such tight pants…. they certainly shouldn’t have called him “little” Joe. Is that a six gun in your pocket Little Joe or are you happy to see me?

SOPHIA: Dream on, you tramp. Who do you think you are? Julia Bulette? Love me tender and all that?

DOROTHY: I think I like Adam the best. As a substitute English teacher, I have always been drawn to literary types. That Adam does wonders with Dickens and Shakespeare, and that black outfit…Paradise Lost. And chest hair too. Rose, how about you?

ROSE: Oh Hoss of course. He loves animals and nuns and small children. He is so polite and he is sooo big…just like my late husband who had a big Svengaluchen… and Hoss’ mother is Swedish too.

SOPHIA: So you are leaving me with the old man? The father with three dead wives?  I get Ben just because I am the old lady here. Don’t I get one of the BOYS?

DOROTHY: Ma, we are just talking… You can have any Cartwright you want. It is just television, not reality. Cheesecake? (she passes a slice of cake to her mother in an attempt to distract her).

SOPHIA: Cheesecake? Cheesecake? Speaking of cheesecake… Look at this! (She lifts the edge of the tablecloth and pulls out a stack of glossy cast pictures of the Cartwrights…mostly shirtless or posed with sweaty brows, dusty pants, pointed guns and “come hither looks”. All are signed with affectionate and suggestive messages to Sophia).

ROSE: Look at this, Dorothy. “To the hottest babe on the range, Love Ben.” And this one: “Be mine, you are fine, let’s entwine, fondly, Adam” and this one: “You make my Svengaluchen bigger than the high Sierras, Hoss”. And look, Blanche…look what Little Joe wrote…

BLANCHE: Show me, Rose. (grabbing at the photo) What did my darling Joe write to Sophia? He is mine, you know. (She fluffs her hair and fans her self with a cloth napkin.) My Little Joe, girls…mine.

DOROTHY: Let me see: “Dear Tirza, you can be my wolf girl anytime, I howl for you. Your wild in love man, Joe”. Ma, what is this all about?

SOPHIA: Picture this… the Comstock Lode, 1857 or 1961, whatever you want. A beautiful gypsy girl is tossed off a cliff by her jealous knife-tossing boyfriend who tells people she kills chickens with her bare hands. She is so beautiful that all men swoon when they see her. In full living color. Sponsored by Chevrolet. The moon is full and Joe Cartwright falls madly for the gypsy girl and her totally spastic hooochie mama gypsy dancing. They make passionate love near some papier-mâché rocks. Tissue Paper flowers. Paper moon. Little Joe.

BLANCHE: My Little Joe. The Prince of the Ponderosa.

SOPHIA: Shut up, Blanche. It’s my story. He wants to marry her immediately. The gypsies call for a celebration and serve a roasted pig and manicotti…a little red wine, some cannolli, some fried calamari…some eggplant Parmesan. Biscotti, tortoni. Amoretto and cappuccino…vino. Lots of vino.

BLANCHE: Sophia, enough about the menu…tell us more about the passionate love making.

ROSE: How was his Svengaluchen ?

SOPHIA: Better than that Chinese cook’s canola. Shouldn’t let a man named Hop Sing anywhere near ricotta cheese. Better than Roy Coffee’s reheated coffee and Doc Martin’s two-headed calf in the bottle of formaldehyde.

DOROTHY: Ma, you are Sicilian, not a gypsy.

SOPHIA: Sicilian, gypsy, no real big difference. Little Joe was crazy for me… They all were crazy about me. Even Ben…

BLANCHE: Even Ben?

SOPHIA: Ben gave me this. (She pulls something white and fluffy from the breadbox)

ROSE: A poodle? Ben gave you a poodle?

SOPHIA: No, you Midwestern moron. Ben gave me his favorite toupee. From the Virginia City Hair Club for Cattle Barons.

BLANCHE: So what happened?

SOPHIA: So what happened? What do you think happened? I was irresistible and Little Joe Cartwright couldn’t resist me.

BLANCHE: Are you saying that Dorothy’s father is (she swoons) my Little Joe Cartwright?

SOPHIA: No, you slut puppy. Her father is Sid Melton. No, I had to leave Little Joe. Ben said he was too young to manage a happy marriage and needed to find a wife who fit into some crappy blue dress they had. But I fixed them…just as I rode off in my rear-engine Chevy Corvair.

DOROTHY: Ma, what did you do?

SOPHIA: I put a curse on them…a Sicilian gypsy curse. That no woman would ever live to marry them.

ROSE: Oh no, Sophia! THE CARTWRIGHT CURSE. No wonder they never married!

SOPHIA: (going to the refrigerator and returning with a new snack) Dead chickens anyone?


The End

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