![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Oct. 13th, 2013
Alternate Series Ending: Newhart Finale
If you don't know the story behind this, considered one of the best series finales ever, check it out here. Anyway, this is another way the story might have ended. I don't know why both of my alternate endings ended up in the same, er, place.
Dick can't believe it. What happened to his idyllic, though sometimes aggravating, life as a Vermont innkeeper? What once seemed eccentric has become downright insufferable, with golf balls pinging everywhere, inexperienced help, and the sheer lack of control over the inn and life in general. At least he still has Joanna, he thinks, as he looks at the blonde figure at the counter. But still. He's had enough! The frustration boils inside him; he has to get it out or explode. He strides to the front door, flings it open, and cries "You're all CRAZY!"
He hears a shout and sees a blur of white heading toward him. He is struck in the head by a wayward golf ball and collapses. All goes black.
Suddenly, he is struggling up through the dark in tangled sheets. A light glares on, he blinks to his right, and sees a dark-haired woman leaning back from turning on the lamp. It's all coming back. He's a psychologist. In Chicago. This is his wife Emily. Looking at her concerned and slightly annoyed eyes, he says, "Honey, you won't believe the dream I just had. I-I-...I was an innkeeper in Vermont, and there were these oddball characters, and it was okay, but then the inn was bought by a conglomerate and....." He shudders and catches Emily's sardonic expression. "And I had a wife. A beautiful blonde wife. Anyway, let's go to sleep." He turns to lie down, when he hears a toilet flush, water run, and a door open. He looks with alarm to Emily, now grinning openly, and into view behind her pads that beautiful blonde wife, yawning and stretching in a fluffy pink robe. He gapes between them, as Emily growls lovingly, "Bob. That was no dream. This is your life." She taps his shoulder as Joanna sheds the robe and moves toward the bed. "Shove over, honey. I want to sleep in the middle tonight."
THE END
If you don't know the story behind this, considered one of the best series finales ever, check it out here. Anyway, this is another way the story might have ended. I don't know why both of my alternate endings ended up in the same, er, place.
Dick can't believe it. What happened to his idyllic, though sometimes aggravating, life as a Vermont innkeeper? What once seemed eccentric has become downright insufferable, with golf balls pinging everywhere, inexperienced help, and the sheer lack of control over the inn and life in general. At least he still has Joanna, he thinks, as he looks at the blonde figure at the counter. But still. He's had enough! The frustration boils inside him; he has to get it out or explode. He strides to the front door, flings it open, and cries "You're all CRAZY!"
He hears a shout and sees a blur of white heading toward him. He is struck in the head by a wayward golf ball and collapses. All goes black.
Suddenly, he is struggling up through the dark in tangled sheets. A light glares on, he blinks to his right, and sees a dark-haired woman leaning back from turning on the lamp. It's all coming back. He's a psychologist. In Chicago. This is his wife Emily. Looking at her concerned and slightly annoyed eyes, he says, "Honey, you won't believe the dream I just had. I-I-...I was an innkeeper in Vermont, and there were these oddball characters, and it was okay, but then the inn was bought by a conglomerate and....." He shudders and catches Emily's sardonic expression. "And I had a wife. A beautiful blonde wife. Anyway, let's go to sleep." He turns to lie down, when he hears a toilet flush, water run, and a door open. He looks with alarm to Emily, now grinning openly, and into view behind her pads that beautiful blonde wife, yawning and stretching in a fluffy pink robe. He gapes between them, as Emily growls lovingly, "Bob. That was no dream. This is your life." She taps his shoulder as Joanna sheds the robe and moves toward the bed. "Shove over, honey. I want to sleep in the middle tonight."THE END
Alternate Episode Ending: War Stories (Firefly)
Zoe sets a steaming bowl in front of Wash. He grins. "Mmm. Wife soup. I must've done good." There's a groan near the door, and they watch Mal enter, gingerly. He looks pointedly at Wash. "Did you tell her?"
"What?" Mal turns to Zoe. "Your husband has demanded we sleep together. He thinks it would get this sexual tension out -- a fair fight for your womanly affections."
He gestures her toward him and puts her hands on his hip and shoulder. "I know it's a difficult mission... but you and I... have to get it on."
Zoe nods. "We have no choice. Take me, sir. Take me hard." She steps in close. Mal loses his pained expression; his eyes soften. They lean in and their lips brush within a breath of air. They draw back, eyes locked. Zoe licks her lips. Mal feels her warmth pressed against him, his own heat rising up. He jerks back and stares at a distant point, eyes blank but mind racing.
Wash strides over, grabbing Zoe around the waist. "Ah. We'll be in our bunk." As he pulls her toward the door, she stops and whispers. Wash turns consideringly, breaking into a slow smile. "Uh, Mal?"
Mal turns. Wash winks. "You…coming?"
Mal gapes. "Huh?"
Zoe gestures invitingly. "Yes. Coming… With us, Sir. (pause) Honey." She turns and moves into the passageway, Wash following. Mal stares, starts to rub his chest, and grimaces in pain. He considers, grins, takes a deep breath, and goes to follow the clatter and giggles.
As he steps through the door, Jayne looms up. "What's the commotion? Can't a man get some peace after all that fightin’? Oh hey, Mal." Pushing by, he thwacks Mal on the chest. Mal doesn’t wince but continues his beeline into the passage. Jayne shrugs and peers into the kitchen. "Hey! Free soup! I guess I'm the one getting' lucky tonight!"
THE END.
Zoe sets a steaming bowl in front of Wash. He grins. "Mmm. Wife soup. I must've done good." There's a groan near the door, and they watch Mal enter, gingerly. He looks pointedly at Wash. "Did you tell her?"
"What?" Mal turns to Zoe. "Your husband has demanded we sleep together. He thinks it would get this sexual tension out -- a fair fight for your womanly affections."
He gestures her toward him and puts her hands on his hip and shoulder. "I know it's a difficult mission... but you and I... have to get it on."
Zoe nods. "We have no choice. Take me, sir. Take me hard." She steps in close. Mal loses his pained expression; his eyes soften. They lean in and their lips brush within a breath of air. They draw back, eyes locked. Zoe licks her lips. Mal feels her warmth pressed against him, his own heat rising up. He jerks back and stares at a distant point, eyes blank but mind racing.
Wash strides over, grabbing Zoe around the waist. "Ah. We'll be in our bunk." As he pulls her toward the door, she stops and whispers. Wash turns consideringly, breaking into a slow smile. "Uh, Mal?"Mal turns. Wash winks. "You…coming?"
Mal gapes. "Huh?"
Zoe gestures invitingly. "Yes. Coming… With us, Sir. (pause) Honey." She turns and moves into the passageway, Wash following. Mal stares, starts to rub his chest, and grimaces in pain. He considers, grins, takes a deep breath, and goes to follow the clatter and giggles.
As he steps through the door, Jayne looms up. "What's the commotion? Can't a man get some peace after all that fightin’? Oh hey, Mal." Pushing by, he thwacks Mal on the chest. Mal doesn’t wince but continues his beeline into the passage. Jayne shrugs and peers into the kitchen. "Hey! Free soup! I guess I'm the one getting' lucky tonight!"
THE END.