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From: rika1@mindspring.com (Rika) Subject: PC: Update, Thursday, 11/27/97 Date: Sun, 30 Nov 1997 06:12:58 GMT X-Server-Date: 30 Nov 1997 06:13:14 GMT PORT CHARLES UPDATE Thursday, Nov. 27, 1997 TODAY'S STORYLINES: ------------------- * A Gathering of Strange Bedfellows * A Thanksgiving Miracle, Sort Of A GATHERING OF STRANGE BEDFELLOWS --------------------------------- Ah, what a tangled web we weave, When we sit down Thanksgiving Eve. Before this day is over, Nicole Devlin will share a turkey dinner with her estranged husband, her daughter, her daughter's boyfriend, and her lover, who is living with her husband's former lover, and who not long ago had romantic designs on her daughter. Frank, Julie, Grace, and Matt are preparing to leave the hospital for the Cast-of-Thousands Scanlon Thanksgiving Feast. Julie is worried about her parents behaving themselves. As they prepare to leave, Ellen Burgess intercepts Julie to tell her that she has to work the ER. Jake, who overhears, offers to cover for Julie. He's not in a holiday mood anyhow; he'd just like a piece of pie. At the Scanlon home, Mike is helping with the gravy - by dumping brandy into the gravy. Mike figures the gravy needs some "zing"; Mary doesn't want to "zing" the guests too much. Mike thanks Mary for inviting him. It's hard for him without Sonny, and he feels guilt and regret. Mary offers a platitudinous suggestion about moving on and doing one's best. Karen and Joe arrive; Joe can't wait for his second turkey dinner in as many days. He warns Karen to watch out, because Mary gets "very Irish during Thanksgiving." (Oh, goody. My updater's cup runneth over. Now, allow me to explain. I have nothing against the Irish. I'm part Irish myself. But Mary Scanlon tends to wear her Irishness like a badge - a great big, hot pink, orange, and lime green badge that makes loud, annoying sounds when you press on it. I think she's plenty Irish enough on an average day. I am NOT looking forward to this.) Karen, afraid that they might start having fun (which hardly seems likely, given Joe's preceding announcement), provides the obligatory once-every-five-minutes mention of the Tragedy of Danielle. Mary, the designated Font of Platitudes (poor Pat Crowley, having to say these saccharine lines), remarks that death is part of life. Joe shares some bagpipe lore, and Mary suggests that they put some Celtic music on the stereo. (What next? The Lucky Charms leprechaun, assuring everyone that the gravy will be "magically delicious"? Actually, that sounds okay, now that I think about it.) Joe suggests that it would be a great night for a "Ceili". Mary agrees; Karen asks what that is. Mike, who apparently knows, picks Karen up and tries to make a quick getaway. Julie, Frank, Matt, and Grace arrive, followed soon after by Chris, bearing two bottles of wine. Nicole arrives soon after that. Chris's wine is served, and the gang offers sarcastic assessments ("It's woodsy - Bambi would like this wine.") Chris drops the fact that the wine got three stars in Vino Veritas magazine. Joe quips that he only drinks four-star wines; Frank retorts that Joe drinks canned wine from a six-pack. Mary announces that the turkey is nearly ready to be carved. Karen suggests that Joe get out his power drill; the group laughs and teases Joe. Bennett Devlin arrives, generating some embarrassment for Julie, Nicole, and Chris. The gang sits down to eat, and Mike brings in the turkey to great fanfare. Mike jokes about the intoxicating power of the gravy. Mary explains a Scanlon family tradition. Everybody at the table has to say what they're thankful for. Mary is thankful for her guests and her two sons; Frank is thankful for Julie's presence; so is Julie. Nicole is thankful she didn't have to cook (I can relate); Bennett is thankful to be "with my family." (Just wait.) Chris is thankful for a free meal, and Matt is thankful that Mary makes cornbread stuffing like his mom does. Grace misses her mother, and reminisces about her mom's usual Thanksgiving meal - Peking Duck. We learn that Grace's mother is Chinese. Mike is also thinking of absent loved ones. He's talking about Sonny, but he also contributes the obligatory once-every-five- minutes mention of the Tragedy of Danielle. Karen offers a prayer for Jake. Joe offers an ancient Celtic prayer. Frank is thankful the toasts and prayers are over, because he's hungry. Post-dinner, the gang assembles in the living room. Joe assumes the role of Master of Ceremonies, welcoming one and all to a "traditional form of Irish torture known as a ceili." (Joe is turning out to be the one providing the Irish flavor instead of Mary, for which your updater is deeply grateful.) Frank, who knows what that means, tries to escape to the kitchen to do dishes. Mary explains - "It's a genteel, civil way of passing the evening before there was radio and television." Joe explains further - it's basically an Amateur Talent Show right in one's own living room. TV, anybody? (Wait a minute. This is Thanksgiving evening we're talking about. Are we supposed to believe that, out of this large a group, there are not several people who can FEEL the waves of televised football games crashing into their bodies? For example, how about Frank Scanlon, former Notre Dame Football Hero? Naaaaaah.) Chris makes a worthwhile suggestion - perhaps he should take off his shirt, tie a shoelace around his head, and do "Lord of the Dance." (I bet he'd be a riot, actually.) Joe claims the right to pick the first entertainer (using the term loosely). Julie and Karen try to escape to the kitchen, but Joe threatens to select them if they move. He looks around the room for a likely victim, but almost everyone is avidly studying the carpet. When we return, Mary is singing a rather lengthy Irish ditty. Next is Frank, reciting an "anonymous poem in the Irish tradition." It turns out to be a limerick. Mike offers to contribute a couple of limericks of his own, but Mary stops him. Joe tries to recruit Grace; however, her two offered talents (giving pain-free shots and throwing up at the thought of performing) win her a waiver. Matt is next. He tries to escape ("Oh, bummer, dude, I left my pennywhistle at home"), but Joe produces one. Matt plays an air on the pennywhistle; Karen gets up and sort of dances a jig as Matt plays (thankfully, she does not exhibit her related talent for removing clothing while dancing). Chris is picked next, and he does some impressions (Johnny Carson, Billy Bob Thornton, and Sean Connery). Chris picks Nicole to go next. She says she only knows one Irish song, and she asks Joe to accompany her on the guitar. (I'm not sure how she knew that he played, but never mind.) Bennett offers to sing with her. Nicole has a good voice; Bennett just kind of croons softly in the background. Before long it has turned into a group sing-along. Karen, who isn't singing, remarks, "It's so sad." And then.... yes, you guessed it, she provides the obligatory once- every-five-minutes mention of the Tragedy of Danielle. (When I saw a minute or so of these scenes on Thursday while on a break from the kitchen, I expected to be writing an extremely cynical update. It looked like my schmaltz meter was going to be redlined. While this sort of stuff isn't my cup of tea (I much preferred Wednesday's episode) I think the scenes were saved from being impossibly syrupy by the fact that I truly felt I was watching a gathering of friends. They seemed to be having a lot of fun, with lots of laughing and joking and teasing going on. That was nice.) A THANKSGIVING MIRACLE, SORT OF ------------------------------- Back at the hospital, Ellen and Jake are on duty in the ER. Ellen asks if Jake is sure that working is a good idea. Work keeps his mind occupied, he explains. Ellen tells him to come find her if he needs her. Left to his own devices, work doesn't keep his mind sufficiently occupied after all, because we are treated to a sixty-second rerun of Jake/Danielle scenes from last Friday, before her surgery. I suppose that constitutes the obligatory once-every-five-minutes mention of the Tragedy of Danielle. His reverie is interrupted by the arrival of paramedics bringing in Mrs. Ramirez, who is in labor. She tells Jake, "I can't lose another baby." Jake examines Mrs. Ramirez, and learns that the OB ward is full - "they're delivering in the halls." Okay, says Jake, so the ER is now a delivery room. Mrs. Ramirez is worried about the baby being premature, but Jake tries to reassure her. "You're in your eighth month. If the baby wants out, there's got to be a reason." (Is it just me, or is that not at ALL reassuring? Oh, well, it's nice of him to try.) When we return to Jake and Mrs. Ramirez, Jake is handing her a baby boy wrapped in a blanket. The baby looks pretty large for one who is 5-8 weeks premature. Mrs. Ramirez looks lovingly at her son and thanks Jake: "This is the best Thanksgiving I ever had." Ellen, who has been looking on, tells Jake, "You did good." Jake responds, "It's about time." Ellen asks what he means, but he says, "Never mind," and heads off to the pay phones. He calls his mother, tells her he loves her, and assures her that "I'm fine." As he hangs up the phone, several of the Scanlon-feast revelers arrive laden with plates of leftovers. Ellen suggests that they take it all to the OCR and "chow down," and the happy group heads off down the hall. ----------------------- by Rika, Thursday updater