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A lot of people seem to have some kind of internal "to do" list.
They have this compelling need to get things done.
But it's hard.
When you finish one thing, it's time to move on to the next item on the list.
The list never quite gets done.
We're forever in a state of unfinishedness.
Then you'll do the same for the section on filers, clerks, executive assistants
and when the new policy manuals are all collated
then I'll show you how to use the Bindomatic.
We now save mucho dinero by binding them in-house.
- Do you have sticky fingers? - I'm pretty sure I don't.
You should. They're your best friend for a job like this.
- Lucky for you I have another pair. - Lucky for me.
Mm. No, silly! Where is thumbkin?
Oh. I envy you.
Collating is so Zen, so meditative.
The rhythmic nature of repetition frees the mind to think deep thoughts.
It's like sweeping. Whoosh. Do you know where I'm coming from?
Jupiter?
I do.
You'll be amazed to discover how much your busy bee hands accomplish.
- Bees don't have hands. - No, they don't.
But you know who does? You do. And you know what they say about idle hands?
They'll strangle the person who asked them to collate?
Well, I'll leave you to it, Ms Busy Bee.
With days of collating ahead of me,
Delores' Zen theory just might be the way to get through it.
Wax on... wax off...
Ow!
Fuck me.
Good thing reapers heal quickly.
I knew there was something else. More luck.
Because you now exceed 25 hours per week,
you qualify for our health and pension benefits.
Just a nick in the take-home.
VICA, federal, state, Medicare,
vision, dental, mental and Indian Casino tax!
Who knows what that's about?
Most people don't even qualify for health benefits.
Having no money didn't sound like a benefit.
Lucky me!
Johnny Vegas omelette, rare, Jane's addiction,
home fries, burnt, gooseberry flapjack, side of sausage and toast.
Working on empty today? They've perfected the Johnny Vegas.
I have no money. Does anyone care?
I do, darling. Have a sausage patty.
Good morning. One for you...
One for you. One for each of you.
Chock-full full of helium and love.
- What's the occasion? - She had sex with a carny?
Why do I need to have an occasion to spread love?
Because you're an ornery bitch and you eat puppy dogs for breakfast.
Oh, stop. I'm just in a good mood. How is everybody this fine morning?
She's got the grin of a lady on Vicodin.
Have you got some spare?
This is not about drugs or sex.
I just feel giving.
Is it too early for souvlaki?
- How about buying a dead girl breakfast? - Sure, babe. Anything you want.
- No Post-it for me? - You have two days off.
- Why does she get two days off? - Why does she get two days off?
- I'm OK, Rube. - Daisy will take over for you.
Take over for her?
No, and no means no! Powerful, isn't it? I learnt it doing a PSA about date rape.
I'm your boss and you'll do as I say. Equally powerful.
It's nothing short of obscene to think that I, Daisy Adair,
would do double time for a woman who wears that...
.. dreadful little hat and orthopaedic shoes.
A trip to the Point Grey Club does soften the blow.
Rox? Talk to you later?
Do I still get breakfast?
- Can I help you? - Yes. I believe my party may be seated.
- Which party is that? - Hourihan.
- Mr or Mrs? - Whichever one is here.
Yes. Mr Hourihan dines at the Boston Club on Tuesdays.
But his mother... she's just over there.
Many thanks.
We'll have that dessert now.
I'm so sorry to interrupt. That scarf is just beautiful. Where did you get it?
It was a gift. My husband bought it for me in San Francisco.
- So flattering. - As are you. What's your name, dear?
- Daisy Adair. - Do we know any Adairs?
Sean Adair. But I don't think you're related, you're too fresh and lovely.
He's a little oily. Lebanese, I think. Anyway...
- Where were you raised? - I'm a Greenwich Adair.
- Greenwich, Connecticut? - Is there any other?
I'm Joyce. This is Sylvia, Jane and Mary-Kate.
So nice to meet you all.
Bananas Foster, my favourite!
Joyce is turning 30... for the 31st year in a row.
- Are you married, Daisy? I have a son. - I'm single, but I'm not really in the market.
Are you a lesbian? Sylvia has a daughter.
- Ooh! - How exciting.
This dessert is so evil.
- 8,000 calories a bite. - Please. It's not going to kill you.
I believe your friend is choking on a cookie.
- Oh, my gosh! - Somebody?
Somebody help her, please.
Shit. Mary-Kate's on fire.
Oh. My coffee was Irish.
I was supposed to pick up that lunch check.
The restaurant was kind enough to pick up the tab.
I don't want to hurry you, but there's a limousine waiting for you.
- To go where? - To your destination.
- Which is where? - I'm not privy to that information.
You're just useless. Tell your driver to go on without me. Take care, Daisy.
- Where do you think you're going? - To my son's office. I have business.
I'm guessing that your limo won't take me there.
Be a dear and tip the bus boy, the one who tried to put me out.
It was time to seek out personal career advice.
Although collating was another dream realised,
I was advised to "never settle".
My choices were limited to coal mining or hand-washing J-Lo's undies.
So I'm thinking, how bad could West Virginia be?
Georgia! Oh, Georgia!
Oh, please, God, no.
Oh, Georgia?
Honey, come out, wherever you are.
Georgia.
It's times like these I wish reapers had some kind of super power.
You know, like I could fly or disappear or...
Georgia!
Or paralyse someone's vocal chords.
- Fucking Daisy! - I'm looking for a girl. Ye big, pretty.
Angry. Pretty angry. Oh, that's her. So nice visiting with you.
Quiet. Why are you here? You can't be here. I don't want you here!
Georgia, Mary-Kate. Mary-Kate, Georgia.
Look at this horrible place. Is this a sweatshop?
Would you explore over there while I have a tête-à-tête with my friend?
- You do that. - What do you want?
- I come bearing gifts. - I'm busy.
She's rich, which makes her son rich, which could make us rich, but I need your help.
Why would I wanna help you?
The kindness of your heart and, at the risk of repeating myself, lots of money.
- How much money? - Oodles.
Do you know how many zeros there are in oodles?
Do I need to draw you a treasure map?
A girl's got needs, you know. Even a dead girl. Especially a dead girl.
- What do I have to do? - First, take a few days off.
- Today? - No. Don't be silly.
How's a week next Tuesday? Are you free?
Yes, of course today! Don't you see my face? I'm playing urgency!
I'm gonna have to pass.
I don't think reapers are supposed to use ghosts to get money.
- I should stay here and collate. - Collate?
Show some ambition. That's what separates us from the animals.
It's not the opposable thumb, it's ambition. Animals don't like money, we do!
Miss? Miss! Hold on, I'm coming!
Oh, for the love of Mike! Jiminy Cricket!
- Why can't you ever give me a break? - You're taking it personally, sir.
- It's not personal. - How about you tear it up?
- I wrote it already. It's done. - I was just gonna move it.
You were not gonna move it! I see this vehicle every day.
You were just hoping you weren't getting a ticket today. But you are getting a ticket.
Well, maybe today's different. Maybe today you'll tear up that ticket.
Maybe today is different.
- Have a nice day. - Thank you so much.
I'm sure there's gonna be some karmic reward for you.
I doubt it. And you're welcome.
Oh, hello.
- Guess I went on a little mind vacation. - Someone have a baby?
I don't know. Bootees are the only things I can knit.
Oh, my! Have you been crying?
- My Aunt Ruth died. - Oh, Millie!
I'm gonna have to take some time off.
For the funeral. Five days ought to do it.
One perk of two mind-numbing days collating the policy manual
was knowing the policy on bereavement.
You're entitled to five bereavement days if it's a parent, grandparent or sibling.
You said it was your aunt?
She practically raised me.
I loved her like a sister or a mother or a grandmother.
Even so, the death of an aunt or uncle entitles you to three bereavement days.
I can't believe I fucked that up.
But the funeral's out of town
and with travel and all,
it hardly seems like I'll be able to spend any quality mourning time with my family.
How about we say that it was your grandmother who died?
Delores, can we do that?
I don't want to abuse the rules here.
Don't look now, but your grandmother just bought it.
Thank you.
And so it was. I not only had to mourn the loss of my Aunt Ruth,
but my precious collating job too.
It was almost too much for one person to bear.
- Mary-Kate, Mason. Mason, Mary-Kate. - Hello. Please come in.
Um... So how is the whole dead thing working out for you?
The afterlife was billed as having more amenities than I have seen thus far.
I was thinking something sort of Rive Gauche and less working class.
I believe the perks kick in after you walk into the light.
There's no need to rush things. You'll be over there soon enough.
- Is this a slum? - Suburbs.
Oh. Same thing. Now get me my son.
I've explained this to you. You can't just waltz up to the living and start chatting.
- Oh, I'll call him myself. - They cannot see or hear you.
There's a proper way for the dead to communicate with the living.
You have to trust me.
- I need you to move out for while. - Out of my own house?
Yeah. I don't know how long I'll have her.
- How am I to be compensated? - How would you like to be compensated?
50% of the takings and 100% of your clothes off.
- 10% and a handshake. - 25% and a quick grope.
Stay strong, soldier.
15% and I'll let you see them for five seconds.
Done.
Five, four, three, two, one.
That was so worth it.
What did you think of her obit?
- The photo was pretty. - What was she, 12?
Oh.
It was Mother's debutante photo. She was 19... and she was beautiful.
I think she's prettier today. Look at her eyelashes. Her skin.
I love that shade of red on her lips.
I'd like that guy to do my make-up.
A lot of people in this room would like that guy to do your make-up.
Hm. I expected a bigger crowd.
A better crowd.
Oh, for God's sakes, there's my dry-cleaner.
So here's the deal. You are a Davenport.
Your mother's cousin, a Lindsay, was married to a Buckingham
who was nephew to the dearly departed Mary-Kate Hourihan.
- Which makes me? - Very sad.
- Now go while the grieving's good. - Which one is her son?
Matthew Hourihan.
Honey.
Wait. Come here.
Ow! OK. Now, that hurt.
OK. Great. Now you look hurt. Go.
Matthew? I'm so sorry.
I can't believe this. She was so... unique.
- Hi. - I'm Millie... Davenport.
- I'm a Davenport. - So that makes us second cousins?
I believe it does.
Poor Mary-Kate. She'll be missed.
I'm sorry. I'm very upset and it's just been a sea of faces.
There is something I have to tell you, Matthew.
I wrote it down because she insisted I write it down.
The Englanders Trust documents held by Hertzfield & Associates
are not the most recent.
Look in the bottom drawer in her curio cabinet upstairs.
- Who told you that? - Uh... Mary-Kate.
You know, your mother.
- When? - Last night.
I'm sorry... What?
Um... I was at a seance last night
and I was having a conversation with my mother which wasn't going well, as usual,
and your mother unexpectedly joined in and asked me to tell you that.
Don't ask me to repeat that because it's all Greek to me.
Um...
God bless you and... take care.
Uh... Hold on.
Oh.
What a pretty woman I was.
Very nice.
Our beloved Mary-Kate, we ask you to commune with us...
.. and sit with us.
What was that?
- What are you doing? - Making authentic scary noises with this.
This isn't a seventh-grade sleepover party.
Oh, good. Look.
Go plug that in.
What's next? We make holes in sheets and walk around moaning?
Just plug it in.
I summon you, the spirit of Mary-Kate Hourihan.
Fly to us! Fly!
- I believe someone has joined us. - Is it my mother?
I don't know.
I feel a very powerful presence, but we must be sure.
Mary-Kate, if you're with us, please give us a sign.
Please. Enough with the theatrics.
Mary-Kate is very anxious to talk to you.
- How do I know she's really here? - You're clutching my handkerchief.
Which you obviously stole from my bedside drawer, holding it like a blanky.
That handkerchief is from her nightstand. It touches her heart that you're holding it.
Oh!
I miss you so much.
Little dipshit. Wet his bed till he was seven.
She says she misses you very much too.
Where were you this afternoon?
Handing out parking tickets. That's what I do, you know.
I didn't see you on the street.
Supervisor said you called in sick.
Well, I'm playing a little hooky today. Just chilling, you know.
Do some shopping. I have a "to do" list too, you know.
Should have gotten the French tips.
- What do you think you're doing? - I'm doing my nails.
Then I'm going to Wal-Mart. They're having a sale on bundt cake pans.
I do love a delicious bundt cake. I'll make you one if you like.
Careful, sweetheart.
A thousand housewives have tried this shtick and failed.
What shtick is that?
Smiling, keeping busy.
Trying to bullshit their way out of an existential crisis.
I'm not having a crisis, Rube.
- You're mourning. It's all over you. - What do you want me to do?
Go to church, wear all black? Say a fucking rosary?
Acknowledge your grief.
Everybody grieves in a different way, Rube.
- I ain't gotta tell you that. - Yours reeks of avoidance.
I can't change anything about the past.
I don't know why we have to keep going over it again.
I'll be waiting for you whenever you're ready.
Fucked up my manicure.
Sorry.
I'll still make you that bundt cake.
- Lemon OK? - I'll be home tonight.
Just look at the little milksop.
He's too weak to stand up to the board. He'll never run the company without me.
She says she wants you to take over the board of directors.
We could get in big trouble for this.
We could get transferred to a really awful place.
I'm serious, Mason.
This thing seems really stupid. We could get screwed big time.
Yeah, but we can also get very rich big time.
OK. Cool.
William Garrett is his enemy.
At the next meeting, Garrett will call for a buy-back of all outstanding shares.
Go on. Tell him.
At the next board meeting, this fellow Garrett...
- Aagh! - What is it?
I can't continue. It's too dangerous.
What's too danger...? Am I in danger?
No. Me.
If I channel the dead for too long, I might die myself.
- Some spirits are draining. - I am not finished.
Tell him about Garrett.
I'm sorry, Matthew. She's gone.
- You are fucking with the wrong ghost. - Get her back. I need to continue.
Here's the 2,000 you asked for.
- We are so rich. - She's gonna take his money.
- I can't take that. - She's fucking it up.
- What's that? Mother? - No.
This house is full of spirits. It's an occupational hazard.
I can't take your money.
- Look, I'll pay you 10,000. - Rich!
I don't think you realise the health risk this could pose for me.
- 20,000. - Perhaps you have some idea.
Come back tomorrow night. I'll bring Mary-Kate if it's the last thing I do.
Thank you. Thank you.
You don't think I'm going to stand by while you swindle him out of $20,000?
Send for my lights.
Leave any time you like,
but leave now and the battle for your business may not go well.
William Garrett sounds like a bad hat.
Isn't saving the company for your son worth a measly 20 grand?
You're richer than God. I'm guessing. I have no inside information.
- What's with the parlour tricks, asshole? - You just gave up two grand.
Don't look at me. He came up with the lame ghost shit.
Mason, I'm going to make this perfectly simple so you're able to understand.
We have the ghost.
You only need parlour tricks when you can't talk to the dead,
you dumb fucking limey.
Did you see his face when that lamp fell? That sealed the deal.
Don't you fuck this up.
Don't you fuck this up!
With our seance business unfinished,
I was stuck with the task of baby-sitting.
I've sailed my whole life. Had my first boat when I was eight.
Oh, I just loved being out there.
I wish I'd been buried at sea.
Couldn't you have put that in your will? Asked someone to do it?
Coulda, shoulda, didn't.
We kept a boat at St Bart's. You know St Bart's?
I suppose that's an island.
It is. It's a little jewel in the French West Indies.
When the planes came in, they'd use this tiny runway that ended at the water.
Terrifying. Every time we flew in, I thought, "We're all going to die."
But we never did.
But she did die.
Mary-Kate would never take another vacation to St Bart's.
And I'd never see it at all.
- Did they speak French there? - Mais oui.
On parlait franç ais Ià-bas...
.. except for the stupid Americans who couldn't be bothered.
- Do you know how to sail? - No.
Well, you should learn. You'd look good on a sail-boat.
- Two guys walk into a bar... - What type of bar?
It doesn't matter. Two guys walk...
Of course it matters. Lee Strasberg preached specifics.
- So the bartender says... - I'd like to know what kind of bar too.
It's not important. The bar's just where the joke takes place.
What's important is the escalation,
building up to a surprising revelation...
.. resulting in some kind of a hilarity.
Which you're depriving yourselves of by these mindless interruptions.
Fine. Be funny.
Thank you.
- Two guys walk into a bar... - You're so short-sighted.
- Short-sighted about what? - Nothing. Just some girl.
Two guys walk into a bar and what?
They get a drink.
The end.
For you... and you. Where's your room-mate?
She's fallen in love with a diplomat and is getting fitted for a wedding dress.
I don't know. I'm her room-mate, not her mother.
I'll give it to her.
How are you gonna give it to her if you have no idea where she is?
Mason does. So I'll give it to Mason.
I do know where she is and I will give it to her right now.
I'll come with.
In grief therapy the big buzz word is "closure".
Moving on with life after a loved one dies.
Supposedly there's a super-efficient way to grieve
and if you can nail that down fast,
you can blow through all 12 or so steps of mourning in less than a year.
But when you're mourning yourself,
closure is a little tricky.
That's a nice bundt cake.
I learned it when I was a kid.
Ask any dead person. The one death you never get over is your own.
I thought this would be the year I would let go.
What's it been? 20 years?
21.
- Maybe this is your year. - Why, Rube? Why this year?
'Cause life is too short and death is too long.
And 21 is a lucky number, isn't it?
Come on. Throw something in there.
Jennifer Beals.
- She wore them well. - Who knows where she'd be without you.
Being undead gave you a lot of time to think about your life...
and its end.
Revisiting the hour of your passing, its details.
The injustice of it all.
One thing everyone agrees on.
Going out before you're old and creaky is pretty much worse case scenario,
but when you're young and talented...
.. full of life...
.. and just stumbled onto a million dollar idea...
.. getting an early checkout truly stinks.
Girl, what are those fool things you got on your legs?
I cut the toes out of my socks. Check it out.
Whoa. Those things look cool. Do you sell them?
You still trying to reinvent the sock?
I'm getting paid like a high-class hooker to do it too.
- I made 300 bucks this week. - That's nice.
You think you know the killers in a house,
the slick porcelain of the bath tub, the Draino under the sink.
The thing is, the death weapon's never what you think it's gonna be.
It's at least a safe bet you didn't invent it.
All for a fucking legwarmer.
Come on.
Most of us dance towards death unwittingly.
One step here, another twirl there.
We get ever closer to a finale we don't want to see.
And even though we all get a final curtain,
we don't all get closure.
Some of us hang around, rehashing the show,
wishing we could go back and get the last number right.
He can blackmail Garrett. Garrett is sleeping with his housekeeper.
You can blackmail Garrett. He's sleeping with the housekeeper.
I'm sleeping with her. You mean Garrett is too?
Not Maria. With his own housekeeper.
- Not Maria. Who's Garrett sleeping with? - Letitia.
Why are you sleeping with Maria? She's not a good cleaner.
Your mother just wants you to lead a good, clean life.
Would you stop paraphrasing me? You're fired.
It's time for your mother to move on. Is there anything else you'd like to ask her?
- I think I'm done. - Oh? No thank you?
We thank you, spirit of Mary-Kate, and we invite you to go.
Go.
Fly, spirit, fly.
Here's the money that I promised you.
- Mason... - Daisy Adair, you're under arrest.
- What? - What?
Shit!
- For grand larceny and extortion. - And paraphrasing.
- This is absurd. - Where are you going?
Getting the fuck out of here. I suggest you do the same.
You're a fraud. Garrett put you up to this, didn't he?
You tell that son of a bitch that Matthew Hourihan is no pushover!
He can go... fuck a duck
if he thinks he's gonna take over the company my parents built!
Little Matthew finally grew some stones.
Cuff her. Let's get you outta here.
Daisy, tell him I love him and I'm sorry we didn't let him play hockey as a kid.
He was a beautiful skater.
- He won't believe me, Mary-Kate. - Who are you talking to?
- Would you give it up already? - Tell him, Daisy. You owe me.
Your mother says she loves you and she's sorry about the hockey.
She thought you were a beautiful skater.
How did you...? She loved me?
Let's go, Mr Hourihan.
Thanks for your help. Much appreciated.
You're lucky. Most people get taken to the...
Go! Go! They're after the money! Go!
- That stung. .44? - Nah. .38.
Makes a lot of noise but it's a quicker heal.
Thanks. That's considerate.
You're the one who should be getting the thanks. Thanks.
I always appreciate reapers who don't mind pitching in. Thanks, boys.
Come on. We're Plague Division. All we've got is time.
- What I wouldn't give for some locusts. - I hear you, buddy.
I believe that's my ride.
Am I going to St Bart's?
With a short stopover at Customs.
Merci.
De rien.
- You're an asshole. - You're a sore loser.
I should have known you orchestrated this.
I should have known you'd pull the same stuff as in New York.
- Where's my money? - I've got zero tolerance for your cons.
You will not prey on the survivors of the souls you take.
You will respect that boundary
and you will treat it with the grace that it deserves...
.. or you will taste a wrath you've only read about in your plays.
- Are we clear? - Crystal.
Good.
Then you're free to go.
The key?
Don't worry. I'll leave it right here for you.
- How the fuck am I gonna get that? - You'll figure it out.
You're the amazing Daisy.
Fuck me.
I had escaped the wrath of Rube, but I did have to pay a price.
Entertaining Mary-Kate had its cost.
There you are!
I've knitted you a little gift.
Thanks... A baby hat.
No, silly. It's a pencil-sharpener cosy.
And that's the Chinese symbol for prosperity.
That's so sweet, Delores. I could really use one of those.
- How was the funeral? - Oh, good.
It's sad... It feels good to be home.
It's good to have you home.
Need you to get back on that collating job. Work all night if you have to.
So we continue to muddle through our unfinished business.
Try to find ways to check things off our "to do" list.
But in that strange quest to get through all our list,
we try to resist the urge to focus just on the past.
Nobody bothers to respect the meter any more.
To say I'll never do this...
.. I'll never do that...
.. I'll never go to St Bart's... I'll never...
But sometimes we find closure by giving death the finger,
by finding the little ways to say, "I will,
I can."
Subtitles: Sue Whitfield ww. broadcasttext. com
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