Tipping the Scales/Transcript

(Open on the episode in the music classroom.)

Principal Haney: Attention, boys and girls! I have an important announcement regarding your upcoming chorus trip to Crown City. Starting today, all plastic garbage should---oh, sorry, wrong announcement. (searches his pockets for another slip) Where is that thing?

Binky: (sits back in his chair, rocking back and forth) Ah, singing at Bartleby Hall. It almost makes repeating third grade worth it.

Arthur: Really? I'm kinda nervous about giving a concert in front of all those people.

Binky: I'm not talking about the concert. I'm talking about Finkelmeyers, the place Ms. Krasny takes us to afterwards. It's the best deli in Crown City! The pastrami sandwiches are so big you need to sit on a telephone book to sit on them. After just half of one, you think you'll never be able to eat again, but when they bring the cheesecake, you make room.

Buster: (in awe) Finkelmeyers!

Principal Haney: Ah! Here we go. Ms. Krasny will not be able to take you to Crown City this year.

Buster: Oh, the humanity!

Principal Haney: But we've managed to find you a replacement.

(the door opens and in walks Frederique Fugue)

Arthur and Binky: Dr. Fugue?!

(Intertitle - Stampede)

TIPPING THE SCALES

Written by: Alan Silberberg --- Storyboard by: Robert Yap

Muffy Crosswire: (voice-over) Tipping the Scales!

Arthur: Yee-haa!

(Back to the story. Dr. Fugue is writing his full name on the chalkboard as he introduces himself to the class)

Dr. Fugue: Who am I? "Dr. Frederique Fugue"! Pianist, private tutor, musicologist. What is my goal? To make sure this chorus is ready to sing at about 4 p.m. this Friday. Questions?

(Binky raises his hand)

Binky: Dr. Fugue! I have a (rubs his throats and imitates a sore throat, sounding voice) sore throat. May I be excused?

Dr. Fugue: No. If you sang properly from the diaphragm, you will not strain your vocal chords. But you may have a flavorless lozenge.

(Dr. Fugue tosses the lozenge over for Binky to eat)

Dr. Fugue: (goes to sit at the piano) Right, enough chit-chat. We'll begin with scales. After me... (while playing and singing in tune) "Do, Re, Mi, Fa, So, La, Ti, Do"!

(The class attempts to repeat but...)

Dr. Fugue: STOP!!! (pulls out the attendance clipboard) Arthur, Fern, Muffy and Binky, you're flat. We'll start again and continue until everyone is on key.

(30 minutes later. The class repeats one last time)

Dr. Fugue: Good... That time you were all pitched-perfect. Remember a chorus sings as one voice all it takes for one rotten apple to spoil the bushel. Now, for your homework.

(The class starts complaining, until Dr. Fugue scratches the board with his fingers to stop them, making them cringe)

Dr. Fugue: As I was saying, for homework, you are all to pick a song to sing in class tomorrow! It will help me decide who will sing the solo part.

Francine: What? But I have the solo part! Ms. Krasny already gave it to me.

Dr. Fugue: And if your singing merits it, perhaps I shall give it to you as well. (departs the classroom) Good day.

(Transition to Arthur, Buster, Francine, and Binky walking through town)

Francine: (to Arthur; referring to Dr. Fugue) You had this guy as your piano teacher and you actually survived?

Arthur: He's pretty strange, but he is a good teacher.

Binky: He's the best alright. That's why I'm not gonna sing.

Arthur, Buster, and Francine: What?!

Arthur: Why not?

Binky: Because I'm a lousy singer. Once Dr. Fugue really hears my voice, he'll lose all respect for me.

Buster: But you'll miss going to Finkelmeyers! (runs toward Binky and grabs him by the shoulders) Think of the pastrami, Binky!

Binky: (pushes Buster off) Oh, I'm going on the trip. (points to his temple and winks at the three) I've got it all worked out. (walks away).

(Transition to the next day in the music class. Francine is up at the front of the class singing Frere Jacques while Dr. Fugue and the students watch her)

Francine: Morning bells are ringing / Ding, Dang, Dong! / Ding... Dang... Dong...!!!

(The class claps for Francine)

Dr. Fugue: Impressive range, Francine. If you learn to control your breathing, you could become an excellent singer.

Francine: Does that mean I get the solo?

Dr. Fugue: I'll let you know when I've made my decision. (as Francine walks back to her seat and picks up a sheet of paper with a song written on) Right, let's begin work on our song, the very appropriate, "In the Good Ole' Summertime". (looks around) Has anyone seen Binky?

Binky (O.S.): Here I am!

(Binky runs in)

Binky: (playing dumb) Did I miss the solo tryouts? Oh, darn! Lousy watch! The battery must've died.