DR. MORRIS:
Excuse me. Let me through, please. I'm a doctor.
MICHAEL:
Don't worry. The fall was a little
rough, but the little bastard's fine.
DR. MORRIS:
Now, what little bastard would you be referring to?
MICHAEL:
Oh, that's funny. You wouldn't
have any morphine on you, would you? Convenient liquid? Chewable tablet? I'm
not fussy.
GOVERNMENT AGENT #2:
Let's move it! Let's go! Let's go!
DR. MORRIS:
Bring the stretcher in, please.
GOVERNMENT AGENT #2:
Step aside, folks.
LISA:
I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother
you, but, uh... you're scaring away all the solicitors and door-to-door salesmen
and religious zealots. Okay, you win. I'll come out. Almost summer.
ROGER:
Almost.
LISA:
You know there's a conversation that we need to have.
ROGER:
I think I'm going to move into a hotel.
LISA:
Oh, Roger... you've got to know there is no one else in the whole world
I would rather have sleeping on my couch.
ROGER:
Yeah, I know.
LISA:
But I think that we have exceeded my own personal statute of limitations
on how long I can have a guest in my house. I really need to be able to fight
with my daughter without keeping my voice down.
I need to be able to go into the kitchen at 2:00 in the morning and turn on
the light without waking somebody up and I need to know that it's okay to occasionally
walk around in my underwear. You know what I mean?
ROGER:
None of these things is a problem for me. Yeah, I've been getting that
"underwear" feeling myself. So, that's why I've been thinking
I'll probably move into a hotel.
LISA:
You could go home. Have you even talked? 'Cause talking's good. Sometimes
the other person actually hears you.
ROGER:
Oh, I don't know. I mean, on the one hand, I guess, part of me... I
miss her, believe it or not. I miss her carping. I miss the way she, uh, would
sit next to me at the country club and count my drinks. I miss her smell. And
then, there's the other hand.
LISA:
This is my fault, you know. It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't have
let you list your house.
ROGER:
Oh, baloney. If it hadn't have been this it would've been the new car
or where to go for the vacation or the color of the... I don't know what.
HEATHER:
Excuse me. I need to get the... paper for my homework. I'm sorry.
LISA:
I need to figure out what I am going to say to her. Maybe you should
try and think about what you want to say to Ruth.
( whirlpool shutting off )
MICHAEL:
Doc! Something terrible's happened. Somebody shut off the whirlpool.
I smell sabotage.
DR. MORRIS:
Mr. Wiseman you've been soaking in that thing for hours. Any muscle
soreness or outer skin tenderness caused by your fall should have abated long
ago.
MICHAEL:
Really? ( groans ) I don't know what to tell you, Doc. Guess
I'm getting old. Plug it back in, will you? I probably only need another 15,
20 minutes.
DR. MORRIS:
What you need is to get up and move around.
MICHAEL:
What I need is one of those cold,
frosty drinks with a paper umbrella in it. You know the kind I'm talking about.
DR. MORRIS:
Get out.
MICHAEL:
Oh, calm down. Learned men can disagree about these things.
DR. MORRIS:
Now.
GOVERNMENT AGENT:
Examination results on our favorite flying stinging machine.
MICHAEL:
Stinger? I'll take one of those.
DR. MORRIS:
Well... turns out this bee's stinger was covered with fluid that contained
strains of a deadly botulism... and thankfully, our friends at the lab removed
it. And according to this he's normal in every other way.
MICHAEL:
So, what are you saying? Human being dipped that bee into some kind
of goo and turned it into a killing machine?
GOVERNMENT AGENT:
Well, then, this is easy. Whoever it is had to sneak in there to get
the bee into the deputy mayor's office. We just need to check every log and
every security camera.
DR. MORRIS:
Hmm... but Mr. Wiseman indicated that the bee made his entrance through
an air conditioning duct.
GOVERNMENT AGENT:
Fine. Whatever. The person behind this crawls through the duct then
pushes the bee through the grate...
DR. MORRIS:
And says, "don't sting me; sting that specific man there."
I don't think so. There's a book I need in my special library. Would you get
it for me?
HEATHER:
( sighing ) Political cartoons... political cartoons... political
cartoons... hey, I know you. Mom? Mom! Mommy!
LISA:
Say it again.
HEATHER:
I saw this man yesterday. I was at the museum, and... I saw this man.
LISA:
All right. So what? Uh, I don't mean to be cold, but... everybody has
to be someplace before they die. I mean, all right, you saw this man in the
museum, or someone who looks like him. Why are you so upset? You didn't know
him.
HEATHER:
Mom, you don't understand. I was in this room filled with bugs and
I was with this man, Dr. Bing who, like, lives for bugs, and then this guy walks
in and he is really angry, and now he's dead and bugs killed him.
ROGER:
Uh... Heather, sweetheart are you perhaps trying to suggest that there
might be a link between these events? And that, perhaps, this man's anger toward
your friend... the... bug doctor, uh, somehow precipitated his death? And that,
uh, the ants ate him in an act of, uh... ...act of vengeance? Cupcake, come
on. You're smarter than that. That can't really be what's got you so upset.
HEATHER:
Uncle Roger?
ROGER:
Mmm?
HEATHER:
Bite me.
LISA:
Heather!
HEATHER:
Forget it. I'm sorry.
ROGER:
It's all right. I know you meant it in the nicest possible way.
LISA:
You know what? I've had it. I've had it with this. I don't know who
this man is, do you?
HEATHER:
No.
LISA:
No. So, what are we talking about? I know... Heather, okay? Me. I know
Heather. The bugs are doing crazy things and, yes, I am scared, but you know
what? That's not my department. Heather misses school-- now, that is my deal.
And, frankly, I'm not too happy with how my deal is going. So, excuse me, forgive
me, if I am not so anxious to worry about strangers getting eaten by bugs.
HEATHER:
Mom, I'm not saying that I know anything. I'm just saying that... I
have a sense about this that... it's just, like, all connected in some way--
Dr. Bing, this man and the bugs... and that it just, like... it's all, like,
connected somehow and I'm just saying that maybe we should just, like, tell
somebody.
LISA:
Tell somebody what? Tell whom?
HEATHER:
I don't know. Like the police. Somebody.
LISA:
"Press one if this is an emergency call. Press two for a non-emergency
call." I'm going to say... "two." "Press one
if you're calling about a criminal matter. Press two if you're calling about
a civil matter." [ Heather holds up 1 finger ] Gotcha.
( beeps )
LISA:
"Press one if your call involves the commission of a street
crime. Press two for all other matters." I'm going to go for... "two"
Although that matters in this situation. I am on hold. And there's music. It's
the theme from cops. It's a joke. Oh, hello. Um, I'm not sure that I have the
right department but my daughter wanted me to call you because she feels that
she has information about this, uh, crazy bug thing that's going on. Uh, what
kind of information do I...? um... she met a man... and, uh she feels that he
may have some connection to this... bug thing. Excuse me? are you... are you
snickering? No, I don't appreciate that. How can you ask me that? You don't
even know my daughter. For your information, officer she happens to be a pretty
terrific kid most of the time and she is just trying to call you up and, and,
and be a good citizen and give you information on this... I'm on hold.
ROGER:
Why don't you hang up climb in the car and go see this guy? I'm going
into New York look for a hotel room. You two need a lift?
HEATHER:
Wow, Uncle Roger, that would be great. Thank
you.
ROGER:
Heather... bite me.
DR. MORRIS:
There's a tradition in Europe that has to do with the special relationship
between beekeepers and their bees. When a beekeeper dies it's customary for
members of their family to visit the hives and actually inform the bees of his
passing. "Telling the bees." that's what the ceremony is called.
Ah, here it is. "1978. A beekeeper in the town of Stanhope, England,
died. His family and children went to his hives and spoke to his bees then joined
the mourners at the grave site nearly three miles away." Ah. Listen
to this. "A short time into the ceremony mourners heard a loud buzzing
then saw the swarm. Thousands of bees, but not a single mourner was stung. The
bees ignored the flowers and people and landed on the beekeeper's casket settling
there motionless for over an hour finally leaving and flying back to their hives."
GOVERNMENT AGENT:
Dr. Morris, with all due respect you're not suggesting what you just
read us is science, are you? You know and I know that, that story is an anecdotal,
old-world old wives' tale.
DR. MORRIS:
Gentlemen, think about it. In the last quarter century communication
by the highest form of life-- mankind-- has, in fact, been simplified reduced
to a series of zeros and ones-- a simple binary code. Now, is the idea that
someone can insinuate themselves into the entomological mysteries by which lower
forms of life commune with one another really so farfetched? Just for a moment
suppose there exists out there someone who knows virtually everything there
is to know about insects. Someone who has spent their entire life in the presence
of bugs-- studied their evolution, studied their mating habits their reproductive
cycles, their migratory patterns their social structures. Someone who has devoted
himself to exploring the methods and rituals and intricacies by which they communicate.
Just... suppose.
MICHAEL:
A bugmeister.
DR. MORRIS:
( snaps fingers ) Exactly.
LISA:
They're open until 8:30 tonight.
ROGER:
No problem.
HEATHER:
I'm sorry about everything-- about lying to you, about cutting school
about calling everything ugly. Thank you for listening to me and thank you for
doing this.
LISA:
I'm not really doing anything. I'm just sitting here watching the scenery
go by. I think maybe you are... thanking the wrong person.
HEATHER:
Uncle Roger?
ROGER:
Yes, Cupcake?
HEATHER:
How come... I call you all kinds of nasty names and I'm mean to you
all the time and show you virtually no respect yet you're still nice to me?
ROGER:
( sighing ) I like you, Polka Dot. Always have. I liked you
from the second you were born. Still got the cee-gar your dad gave me when he
brought you home from the hospital. Sorry about that. That's just the way it
is.
MICHAEL:
This is the only way you can think of to do this?
DR. MORRIS:
Mr. Wiseman, the only hope we have of finding this... bugmaven...
MICHAEL:
Bugmeister.
DR. MORRIS:
Bugmeister. Uh-huh. ...is releasing his warrior bee in the slender
hope of having him lead us back to his, uh... master, queen, or whomever it
is he's taking orders from.
MICHAEL:
I know, but...
DR. MORRIS:
Now, we can't reasonably expect a human being-- now, let's use Special
Agent number one as an example-- to be able to follow this common bumblebee
through the city at night over trees and fences, flying hither and yon. It makes
no sense. No, we have to outfit our bee with some sort of tracking device so
we can follow it electronically. Now, unfortunately, the only tracking device
we happen to have on hand... is in your nose uh, so to speak. In any event in
order for us to do this thing tonight before this... bugmonger...
MICHAEL:
Bugmeister.
DR. MORRIS:
Uh, right-- ...makes any more trouble I've got to get that little bugger
out of your head.
GOVERNMENT AGENT:
Now, just breathe deeply. It'll all be over before you know it.
NEWSCASTER:
Authorities for both the city and federal health organizations continue
to strongly discount theories that suggest the current rash of insect-related
fatalities are in any way connected despite the fact that all the victims appear
to be in pest control or other environmentally volatile industries.
BING:
They want a declaration? They want me to send them a manifesto-- "here's
who I am, and here's what I want"? They must think I'm an idiot. Why
would I do that? This is much more elegant. Let society do the math. Hmm. Only
those who kill bugs and foul the planet seem to be dying. What can I do to make
sure that I'm not bitten or stung? Perhaps they should stop killing and polluting.
What did you say? I know you disagree. You think it's all too subtle. Well...
you may be right. It may be that what they need is a dose of pestilence. Something
on a grand scale. Something to get their attention.
( bees buzzing in distance )
( buzzing getting louder )
BING:
Something that'll let them know we mean business.
Part 2
Synopsis
Pictures 1
2 3
4
Sounds