We’ve just received another exclusive leak from our anonymous source who previously shared the first four pages of Kelsey Grammer’s blacklisted screenplay Frasier Crane with us. In the second scene of Grammer’s infamous lost screenplay, we get a peek into our Frasier’s current lifestyle and domestic issues. Plus, a familiar old flame reappears for a very physical encounter. But we won’t spoil it for you! Read for yourself:
INT. FRASIER’S APARTMENT – NIGHT
We see Frasier in a tight close-up, tossing and turning in
bed, drenched in sweat, having a terrible nightmare. We hear
the gunshots, gradually growing louder. Frasier convulses
and whimpers in response to each gunshot sound, which come
faster and faster until the scene abruptly ends.
SMASH CUT TO:
INT. FRASIER’S APARTMENT – MORNING
Our hero resides in an unfinished basement with cinderblock
walls and load-bearing poles. It’s a dilapidated mess,
bearing no resemblance to the tasteful decor of his old
Seattle apartment. The concrete floor is littered with piles
of dirty clothes, empty liquor bottles, pizza boxes, and
other trash. Sunlight creeps in through a broken window,
which has been lazily patched up with cardboard. Frasier
grunts and wriggles about on his pull-out sofa bed. The
prostitute is dead asleep beside him, lying face-down and
snoring loudly. Frasier sits up and rubs his eyes, then
worms his way to the foot of the bed. Two lines of coke and
half of a plastic straw await him on the dirty glass coffee
table in front of him. He does one line through the half
straw, switches nostrils, and inhales the other one.
He groans to himself as he clenches the bridge of his nose
and massages his forehead. The prostitute continues to
Hey! Wake up!
He gives her body a shake, but she doesn’t respond. He
shrugs, and hoists himself up onto his feet. Dressed in
boxers and a stained wifebeater, he ambles across the room
to investigate the flashing light from the answering
machine. He presses a button on the machine, and we hear the
voice of NILES.
Frasier, it’s Niles. I’m sorry you
couldn’t make it to Dad’s funeral.
It was a beautiful service, and we
all would have loved to have you
Frasier grabs a bottle of aspirin from the dresser and
swallows a handful.
NILES (O.S.) (CONT’D)
Anyway, I’d… really like to talk
to you sometime, if I could…
Frasier presses another button on the machine, and the
message abruptly ends. He sniffs and scratches his nose as
he makes his way toward the fridge in the back corner of his
one-room residence. He opens the fridge, which is pretty
much empty except for a few cheap beers. He grabs a can and
pops it open, takes a sip, then directs his attention back
to the woman snoring on his couch bed.
I implore you to wake up and put an
end to this incessant noise!
Unacknowledged, he walks back over to the bed and leans in
real close to her. He sets his beer down on the coffee
Cease this awful racket, I beg of
He grabs her by the shoulders and vigorously shakes her,
which just barely gets her attention. She squirms and
mutters in response, still asleep but no longer snoring.
Frasier sighs and picks up his beer from the table.
Suddenly, there’s a loud knock at the door. Frasier hurries
to answer it, spilling beer on himself as he attempts to
drink and walk. The knocking continues.
Hold on a moment!
He unlocks the door, pulls it partway open, and sticks his
head out. He finds LILITH standing on his doorstep, looking
Lilith has seen better days. She looks gaunt, sickly, and
somehow even paler than before. She wears a loose black
sweatshirt and black leggings and hides her eyes behind
large, black sunglasses. Her words are punctuated by facial
If it’s money you’re after, you can
forget it. There’s none here.
Frasier doesn’t look so great either, his unwashed hair in
disarray. He sniffles and casually wipes the beer droplets
off of his beard, then has another sip. Lilith takes a deep
breath, trying hard to maintain her composure.
Now, Frasier, I know perfectly well
that you’ve been receiving payments
from Niles, and per the terms of
our most recent separation
agreement, I’m entitled to my share
of that income.
What? Payments from Niles? Don’t be
ridiculous, I haven’t spoken to him
Frasier starts to sip his beer again, but the sip is cut
short when Lilith shoves the door open, causing him to
stumble back and spill more beer all over his dirty
wifebeater. Lilith angrily charges in after him.
Don’t give me that bullshit,
Frasier! Don’t take me for a fool,
you lying fuck!
Damn you, contemptible woman, will
you lower your voice?
He takes a seat on the coffee table, sets his can back down,
and starts to rub his temples. Lilith takes notice of the
coke accessories and the half-asleep hooker, and sneers. She
doesn’t lower her voice.
Oh, and perhaps you’d like to
explain how you managed to fund
this little social gathering of
yours with no money?
For god’s sake, Lilith, even if I
did have money, how could I share
it with you in good conscience? We
both know that that money would go
straight into your veins!
The prostitute is wide awake now, and she’s begun quietly
collecting her things.
I’ve been enabling you for far too
long, and continuing to do so would
be grossly irresponsible. Does the
Hippocratic Oath mean nothing to
You sanctimonious piece of shit!
What the hell gives you the right
to criticize me? I suppose you’re
going to tell me that this cocaine
habit of yours is perfectly healthy
because Freud said so?
Frasier bolts up and thrusts a scolding finger in Lilith’s
Don’t you bring Freud into this,
you loathsome shrew!
The prostitute leaves in a hurry, not bothering to shut the
door behind her.
Frasier, put your hand down.
Frasier. Get your filthy fucking
finger out of my face.
In a quick succession of movements, she shoves his hand away
with one hand and smacks his face with the other. Frasier,
looking shocked and offended, responds with a light shove.
Control yourself, Lilith!
But it’s too late for words; Lilith is pissed. She unleashes
a barrage of slaps, which he attempts to stifle by grabbing
her wrists, but she manages to wriggle her right hand free
and dig her nails into his forearm, loosening his grip on
her left wrist. With her free left hand, she grabs a handful
of his hair and pulls on it hard, causing him to cry out in
Ow! Goddamn you!
They wrestle each other to the floor and roll around
together, knocking over bottles and cans and fast food
containers all around them. Frasier tries to wrap his arms
around Lilith and restrain her, but she claws and scratches
at him, keeping him from getting a grip.
Unhand me, woman!
He pushes on her face, and she shakes her head from side to
side, trying to break free. Her sunglasses fly off of her
face, exposing her weary eyes. They tumble around for a
little while longer, until Frasier finds herself on top of
her, pinning her down, and they momentarily lock eyes.
They’re both tired, breathing heavily, hearts pounding,
their faces nearly pressed together. For a moment, it looks
like they might kiss. But instead, Frasier rolls off to her
side and sits up on the floor, catching his breath. The
coffee table is in reach now, so he takes his beer, finishes
it, and tosses the can aside. Then he picks up a pack of
cigarettes from the table, removes two, and hands one to
Lilith, who sits up to receive it. He locates a lighter,
lights Lilith’s cigarette first, then his own. They remain
silent for a few beats as they sit on the floor and smoke.
Finally, Frasier stands up, notices that the front door is
still open, walks over and shuts it.
Fifty dollars. It’s all I have
He’s still a little winded. He bends down to pick up
Lilith’s sunglasses, and hands them to her. She puts the
glasses back on, then leans forward and wraps one arm around
her legs, suddenly looking vulnerable. Frasier walks over to
the dresser, facing away from her as he speaks.
Honestly, it’s all I have.
He pulls the top drawer open, and digs out a few wrinkly
bills. He turns around and sticks his left arm out,
extending the cash in her direction, still standing a few
feet away from her, not looking directly at her face.
But this is the last time. The very
last time. I do not want to see you
here ever again. Is that
Still silent, stifling tears, Lilith takes a long drag of
her cigarette. Frasier takes a step closer to her. His voice
is beginning to waver.
Here you are. Go ahead, take it.
Off you go!
She stands up, sets her half-smoked cigarette down on the
table, and then approaches Frasier, who’s still holding his
arm out, clutching the wad of bills, avoiding eye contact.
(choking back tears)
Just take it. Take the money and
get out of here.
She glares at him for a brief moment, then snatches the
money, turns, and storms out of the apartment, slamming the
door behind her. Frasier continues to stand there for a
moment, cigarette dangling from his lips. He turns back to
the open dresser drawer, and pushes aside some socks and
other junk to reveal a small, silver .22 caliber revolver.
He picks it up and turns it slightly from side to side,
feeling its weight, then holds it up to the side of his
face. Feeling the cold metal of the cylinder against his
cheek, he shuts his eyes tight and breathes deeply through
his nose a few times. Then he opens his eyes and holds the
gun in front of his face, carefully examining it. Suddenly,
he sneezes, launching his cigarette onto the floor.
Oh, dear god!
He angrily stamps the cigarette out with his bare foot, then
turns his attention back to the sock drawer and rummages
around some more, using the gun like a rake. He collects all
the remaining cash he can find–a ten, a few fives, and a
bunch of singles–then walks back over to the bed and sits
down. He notices Lilith’s cigarette resting on the coffee
table, still lit, so he grabs it and takes a drag. He looks
around at his filthy apartment, at his shattered life. He
sighs, puffs his cigarette, and contemplates the gun in his
Pretty chilling stuff, huh? Wondering what happens next? I know I’m on the edge of my seat! Will we ever learn what becomes of Dr. Frasier Crane? Only time will tell.