Ep11: Child's Play

It’s dinner at eight at Philippe’s, one of Beverly Hills’ most celebrated French restaurants.  Two wine glasses are raised and a wistful toast is made.

“To our ongoing… relationship” proclaims Anatole Andreas with a twinkle in his middle-aged eye.  On the receiving end of this statement is none other than a dazzled Edwina Strictland, dressed to the nines for her night on the town.

“May it continue to prosper!” she coos. “We must see to that,” Anatole says slyly.  They both smile and sip their wine.

“Now… some pesky business before our repast.  As mentioned over the phone, I envision a series of paintings, thematically-linked, over the course of this upcoming year.   Fortunately for me, that rascally niece of yours is a most colorful subject,” Anatole points out.

“Indeed, but not so fortunate for the rest of us,” Edwina interjects with a sigh.  “You won’t catch Tomasina behaving like a boy any more, Anatole.  We’ve finally taken some serious steps to correct her… problem.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Tomasina’s being feminized,” Edwina explains, relieved and smiling.  “You know…  oh dear, how did that charming doctor fellow phrase it.  ‘Regressed to infancy and re-educated from scratch with ladylike virtues.’  That was it exactly!"

Sure enough, in a quick memory flash, adult baby Tomasina Boyd sits snugly in a stroller by Aunt Edwina, who chats with an old maid friend on a nearby bench.  Boyd, pacifier in mouth, struggles in the confining steel contraption, her long toned arms jammed tightly against a very-squeezed teenage body.  Diapered like an infant, Tomasina wears a flimsy sun dress and is topped off by an absolutely ridiculous pink bonnet.

“That girl’s going to get it right this time, we’re seeing to it.”

Wow.  Anatole realizes just how determined Edwina is to convert spirited Tommy Boyd into a blank slate to be programmed from scratch with decidedly old-fashioned, anti-feminist social values.  Taking another sip of wine, Edwina spots the disappointment in his eyes.

“Now, now…  You can paint some lovely pictures of my niece in an adorable pink bonnet we’ve given her.  I dare say, you’ve never seen such a pretty little baby!”

Anatole thinks fast.  “Well…  I’m afraid the thematic link I spoke of pertains to misfit teenage girls… you know, the ones who embarrass themselves by behaving like men rather than women,” he calmly explains.  “Looks like I’ll be needing an entirely new subject for my paintings.  Most likely in another town.”

Edwina is clearly upset by this revelation.  Sly Anatole promptly builds on her disappointment.

“Now, now.  We shouldn’t let this distressing development interfere with a wonderful dinner,” he insists charmingly.   “It’s true, tonight would have been the first of many such evenings of fine cuisine, sweet music, cherished company, but…  “

“Oh Anatole,” Edwina says with an audible sigh.  “We must summon up a solution to this problem…  We simply must!”

Indeed, an idea does hit the dapper (con) artist, and he goes for it.  “I’m surprised you’re not considering Constructive Indulgence as the child’s logical form of therapy,” he tells her.   “Simply put, it’s the ‘give ‘em enough rope’ method of psychological rehabilitation.  Tomasina may consider herself a boy, but it’s obvious she’s actually a ripe young female just dying to serve a husband.  You try to tell her she’s wrong about “a woman’s place” and she’ll instinctively rebel.  But let her find out the truth for herself -- “

“Why, of course.  But that could take time… months perhaps… “

“True enough.  Months of you and I getting better acquainted.  Meanwhile, my ongoing paintings will continually remind Tomasina of how ridiculous it is for a grown woman to behave like a…what is that vulgar term… a tomboy,” Anatole concludes.

“Constructive Indulgence…” Edwina considers thoughtfully.

Anatole raises his glass.  “Cheers.”

The Boyd residence, around nine…

Anticipating an evening of fun, Frankie and Pimples bound up the stairs, respective girlfriends and clinking beer bottles in hand.

“So the old hag had a date tonight?” asks Celine with a titter.

“Proves anything is possible,” explains Frankie, as he leads his entourage to Tommy’s room.  “That means we can party loud.  But first, we’ll take care of you-know-who!” snarls the Frank man.  Right behind him is equally ecstatic party animal Pimples.  “Yeah!  Is that little bitch gonna pay for what she did to us this morning!” 

“Wakey-wakey, Baby Boyd!  Time for your spanking!” announces/threatens Frankie as he pounds opens the door and looks around. 

“You heard him, dumpling.  I didn’t drag this enema bag up here for nothin’!” snorts Pimples, right behind his pal.  He glances at Frankie, then all around

Nothing.  It’s an empty room!  So… where’s the tombaby?

“I really had nowhere else to bring her,” explains Harold Pinter to a truly befuddled but, as always, sympathetic Randy Starr.  Standing in his living room, Randy takes in the unbelievable sight of the “child” Harold just arrived with – Baby Tomasina Boyd, complete with bonnet, dressed in her flimsy sun dress and diaper, and plopped on the floor like a common rug rat.  Recently one of Lincoln Heights most accomplished star athletes, Tommy now mindlessly bangs a baby toy elephant on the floor, over and over again.

“I couldn’t bring her home; mom would never understand!” poor Harold continues.  “And she’d never make it all the way our treehouse, not with an infant’s lack of physical coordination.  But I just couldn’t let Frankie and Pimples get at her.  They’d put Tommy through the mill, and probably worse, given all the grief she generally causes them.”

“Even a baby-minded Tommy Boyd might be too much for those clowns,” Randy tells his nervous guest with a grin.  “But you did right, Harold.  Aunt Edwina trusts me to look after her trouble-prone niece, it makes perfect sense that she might be visiting here.  I’ll phone her and tell her Tomasina’s in safe hands.”

At that very moment, Tommy looks up.  “Wan-dee!” she says, cute as a button.

So sweet!  Randy can’t help being totally charmed by this impromptu greeting, and smiles broadly.  “Did you hear that?  The baby – I mean, Tommy -- just spoke!”

“Me’s not a baby, Me’s a gwown-up!” the little urchin continues, actually placing her fists on her hips for emphasis.  But it’s the way a one or two year old would do it, a little awkward and off-kilter.

As Randy and Harold watch, Baby Tommy smiles broadly… and starts drooling freely and adorably without realizing it!

“She wrong, of course.  The girl’s psyche’s been regressed to third stage infancy.  That’s why it may be possible to better develop Tommy’s feminine instincts…”

“…so that she winds up as an adult woman who wants to make love to a man, rather than, say, punch him on the nose on general principles.”

“That’s the idea.  OWWWW!!!”

Harold gets bonked by the elephant toy, happily thrown by Tommy… who laughs and laughs at his reaction.

“Very nice, Tommy,” he says with a frown.  “That’s what I get for saving your bacon!”

An enchanted Randy leans in and takes his female guest by the chinny-chin-chin.

“Now, now, Tomasina… mustn’t be a bad girl!”

Tommy giggles.  Then, after a moment, she instinctively puckers her lips, just as she does normally when Randy gets close.  The young man shakes his head.  “Some things never change, do they?,” he muses, finally taking Tommy’s pert little nose between his fingers and giving it an affection squeeze and wiggle.  The big baby girl  gurgles in approval.

“Wan-dee!  Wan-dee!  Wan-dee!” Tommy laughs, awkwardly clapping her hands.

“Here, this should calm her down” says Harold, handing Starr a baby bottle filled with milk.  Randy carefully brings it to Tomasina’s mouth.

Reflexively, the woman-child holds it with both hands and proceeds to suck on the nipple, instantly contented.  It’s a bizarre sight to see two powerful, athletic forearms firmly holding a baby bottle and feeding on the nourishment!

An hour later, Baby Tommy is fast asleep in a makeshift crib hastily arranged by Randy.  The banged-up elephant toy has slipped from her limp, opened hand, and a pacifier has been placed in her mouth.   Tomasina’s in dream land now, undoubtedly envisioning pretty rainbows and little animal playmates.

Hovering above her with a bemused expression is Randy Starr.  He leans over, gently brushing the woman-infant’s hair from her face.  Then he gives her a sweet little kiss on the forehead. 

Eyes shut and mouth pacified, Baby Tommy continues to doze…

Next morning, bright and early, at Proper Little Miss.

Tomasina Boyd’s eyes blearily open.  “Where – ??  What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Miss Boyd,” Dr. Swail offers dispassionately, checking his chart.  “Tell me, how old are you?”

Wrapped in a white sheet, Tommy tries to sit up.  “Seventeen.  Why?”

The doctor smiles slightly.  “And umm…  you prefer boy’s clothing to pretty pink dresses?

“Naturally, in spite of what you people are trying to drill into my brain” answers the teenage girl indignantly.  “What’s going on here?”

“Business as usual, apparently.  I’ve been ordered to stop the hypnotic regression therapy.  It seems your unique existence as a receptive pseudo-infant is over.”

Tommy exhales, shakes her head.  “That’s a relief.  I felt like a complete idiot dressed in a diaper. “

Tommy slides up from the lab table.  She is a bit stunned to see, on another table beside it, her familiar white undershirt and athletic short-shorts all laid out, along with her sneakers on the floor.

“I don’t get this – you want me to put these on??” Tommy tells the doctor, pointing to the garments.  “They’re anything but girly.”

“For the time being, yes.  I’m not exactly sure why, but your Aunt Edwina decided a certain amount of non-feminine behavior on your part was… therapeutic, ” Dr. Swail explains.

Whoa.  Didn’t see that one coming.  But then a thought hits Tommy, and her face practically lights up.  Anatole Andreas!  It must be true.  Her resourceful artist friend somehow managed to change Edwina’s mind during their dinner date last night.

 “You’ll continue your feminization lessons at PLM, of course…

“Right.  Wearing dumb kid dresses and rocking dolls…”

“All-too necessary re-conditioning, Tomasina,” Dr. Swail declares with no-nonsense finality, mixed with palpable scorn.  “Now, put those things on.  Then go and climb a tree or hit a baseball or do whatever it is you people do.”

Tommy just shrugs.  Then she picks up her shirt, proceeds to put it on, and happily starts to reclaim her true identity.  In TB’s mind, the bouncy “Tomboy” theme begins to rev up…

She smiles broadly…

Cell phone to her smiling face on a neighborhood street, Tommy thanks her friend and benefactor… Anatole Andreas, who is feeding his poodle some pizza and pleased as punch to have helped the girl athlete out.  Wining and dining Aunt Edwina, matched with a little basic psychology, seems to have produced some instant results.

TOMMY BOYD’S BACK IN ACTION!

Shapely legs stride a ‘cycle.  Hands grab the handlebars.  A foot kicks the starter.  And Lincoln Height’s most infamous spitfire is off, zooming down the street with free-wheeling glee!

Schoolyard basketball court: a bunch of youngsters have got game.  And who’s there among them, scoring basket after basket?  A clearly overjoyed Tommy, her athletic prowess once again unleashed!

Chester’s Garage.  Tommy happily shakes the hand of old man Chester, who is relieved to have his best mechanic back.  Sparks fly as she works on a new engine, feeling so very much at home in the greasy catacombs of the garage workshop.

Tommy places fists on hips, stands on her head and walks on her hands, uprights herself and flexes a bicep… all for the benefit of pleased pal Harold, who gawks at his favorite “model” and draws some sketches of TB for his self-created comic book.

With a reckless abandon of a fun-loving, adventurous child, Tommy takes in a particularly formidable tree, rubs her hands… then darts toward the thing and fearlessly climbs it, fulfilling a classic tomboy pastime.  Before long she’s leaping from branch to branch with preternatural athletic ease.  Exulting in the bliss of it all, she hangs upside down from one thick appendage, letting her arms fall free.  She closes her eyes and a million dollar smile spreads across her gorgeous face!

Frankie is bragging to some cohorts when he is suddenly tapped on the shoulder.  The greaser turns around, and POW!  Tommy Boyd strikes with a powerful fist that hits him squarely on the chin!  He goes somersaulting backward, finally landing on his ass.  Frankie looks up, disoriented, bewildered…

And there, standing classically before him with hands on her hips, is his greatest nightmare: Tommy Boyd, back in aggressive tomboy mode, and anxious to even the score for recent humiliations.  Smiling, she responds to her fallen foe with a simple “get up” gesture.  More throttling to come, Frankie boy!

Meanwhile, over at Proper Little Miss, Marcia Sloan, Mrs. Merribrook and Aunt Edwina indulge in some serious tea sipping.  Edwina’s recent reversal of Tommy’s infancy regression therapy has left the other two ladies dumbstruck.

“We were just getting started,” an irritated Merribrook points out.  “Think of all the diapers we just purchased, that crib, the stroller, the new high chair that we barely used… “

“I know,” Edwina admits with a contented smile.  “But a better method of rehab has come along, and we must embrace it fully.”

That better method is known as “Constructive Indulgence,” she explains to her dear, doubting friends.  Combined with Proper Little Miss’s ongoing ‘little girl’ indoctrination, it should go a long way in helping Tommy move past her “repulsive” tomboy phase.  It’ll also keep dreamy Anatole Andreas in town a while longer, something Edwina neglects to tell her skeptical confederates.

Sharp as always, Marcia can see Tommy’s guardian is unshakeable on this point.  So she switches gears, trying a new tact.  “You’re probably right,” Sloan tells the older woman.  “But for this new method to work, we’ll need to severely punish Tomasina when she's caught crossing the line.  Remember, she’s already overdue for public discipline as a result of last month’s debacle at the track meet.”

“That was disgusting!” Mrs. Merribrook recalls, putting her tea cup down.  “Being a girl, she couldn’t help but lose to her male competitors.  But instead of learning her place and apologizing, she flew into a tantrum and started fighting with them!”

“We put aside her punishment because of the new therapy,” Marcia calmly explains, “But now… “

“I see your point,” Edwina responds happily.  “We can resume where we left off.  After all, Constructive Indulgence provides Tomasina with all the rope she needs to hang herself, so to speak.” 

“Exactly.  Then it’s our responsibility to reinforce her learning curve with rigorous discipline,” Marcia adds with a grin, the new seed she has just planted seemingly taking route.  “We have a perfect opportunity coming up this Tuesday night,” she tells Aunt Edwina.  “I know for a fact that Tomasina intends to disgrace Lincoln Heights once again by giving a school speech that ridicules motherhood.”

“What?!” shouts a horrified Merribrook.  “She should stopped in advance, then punished for that, as well!”

“Perhaps one major public punishment for all of her sins is required here, along with a pre-emptive strike against her lesbian rant,” Marcia suggests oh so smoothly.

“Sounds like a wonderful idea!” Aunt Edwina coos.  “I told you this new method had possibilities.”

Sloan and Merribrook look at each other, satisfied that they’ve turned things around.  “Perhaps I will have that second cup of tea after all,” Marcia smiles.

Tommy Boyd’s room.  And, after a quick paint job, it’s beginning to look like its old, sports-centric self again.

“No, a little closer to the left,” orders Tommy, supervising both Frankie and Pimples as they put back everything they took off of her walls: diplomas, sports certificates, various honors.  The boys are stained with paint from an impromptu repainting of the room demanded by Tommy (no more pink!), and both have noticeable black eyes.

As for T-Boyd, she watches her two hapless, beaten-up arch-enemies dutifully obeying her every command.  She knows full well that she’s a one-girl lethal weapon, and is enjoying every moment of their supreme humiliation.

“It’s a good thing I caught you idiots before you junked my trophies,” she says to them sternly.  “The pain you’re feeling right now would be magnified a thousand times.”

“Aw, c’mon, Tommy.  Give us a break,” Pimples begs.  “We’ve spent the last four hours workin’ on your room, putting it back in shape.”

 “You’re getting off easy, jerkoffs,” no-nonsense Tommy tells them.  “Now, turn around and face me…”

“What for?” asks a tired but extremely pissed-off Frankie.

“Just shut up and obey orders, the both of you.”

They do.

“Now… kneel.”

“Get the hell outta here –!”

“You heard me, dogs, kneel!  NOW!”  She clenches her fists and slips into a martial arts attack pose.

They kneel.  Two greaser toughies reduced to ball-busted buffoons for fear of a super-tomboy’s reprisal.

Tommy loosens up and smiles, patting both bastards on the head.  “I love this!!!”

It’s afternoon now.  Racing down the Lincoln Heights track are runners Tommy and Randy Starr, keeping pace with each other.  “I really think you should re-think your decision to give that speech,” Randy says.  "They'll be a lot of mothers listening, and the last thing they want to hear is that their husbands are unnecessary."  Tommy shoots him a dirty look.  “Are you kidding?  After what the Happy Housewife mentality did to me, turning me into a grown-up baby?  I’m just glad I didn’t poop in my freakin’ diaper!”

“Who said you didn’t?”

Tommy looks at him with even more outrage this time.

“Only kidding.   I must admit, you looked awfully cute with that pacifier in your mouth,” Randy quips. "Cute... and charmingly quiet."

“Screw you!” Tommy shouts back.  Then she races ahead.  And Randy stops running, a little winded.  Tommy circles, heads back to him.  “What’s the matter, old man?” she taunts.  “Can’t keep up with the younger generation?”

Tommy laughs.  But Randy unexpectedly grabs her by the face, squeezing her cheeks and instantly stopping the laughter.  “Know what your problem is, little girl?” he says sternly.  “You need a man to tame you.  Then maybe you’d realize that the speech you intend to give tonight is bogus.”

In the grip of her secret love’s hand, and in a sense his embrace, Tommy finds herself weakening, as always.  Any moment now a confident Randy expects to see the entranced tomboy’s lips involuntarily pucker, as they generally do.  But this time, perhaps as a result of her recent feminist comeback, Tommy is able to fight off her chronic weakness… and actually slaps Randy’s hand away!

“I need a man like I need smelly armpits!” she shouts back defiantly, jutting her chin out.

Randy just smiles and shakes his head.  “That’s probably the most disgusting analogy I ever heard!”

Outside the Lincoln Heights auditorium building, a small crowd begins to gather for tonight’s public address.  Turning about, Marcia talks on her cell phone: “That’s right… Edwina has agreed to participate.  We’ll teach that little misfit to interfere with our business.  Now listen carefully…

Tommy’s room…

“Thanks, April, but I can manage,” Tommy tells her friend over the phone.  “Just because I choose not to play the game doesn’t mean I don’t know how.  Yeah, Aunt Edwina already left with her date, good old Anatole.  He and I exchanged winks.  Ha-ha!!  Right.  I’ll catch you later.”

Tommy checks herself out in a mirror.  She’s wearing a respectable pants suit, pleasing, not overly feminine.  Does she dare apply… makeup, borrowed from her aunt’s personal cabinet?  Ewww!  Just for tonight…  And even maybe a little lipstick? 

About to leave the room, Tommy opens the door and WHAM! Frankie punches her square on the chin, returning the blow he received earlier in the day. Tommy goes somersaulting backward, landing spread-eagled on her own bed.  She shakes her head to clear it of cobwebs, sees that the attack has ripped her clothing.  Damn!

Pissed and about to strike back, TB is grabbed from behind by Pimples and a chloroform rag is hard-pressed to her mouth.  She struggles mightily, but the Pimp has a good grip on her face.  “Mmmmmmfffff!!!” Boyd cries through the cloth.  It only takes a few moments for Tommy to go under.  “We gotcha now, bitch!” Frankie sneers at the literal sleeping beauty.

Dora and Celine enter the room, Celine carrying a large shopping bag.  “Perfect.  Get her out of those rags and let’s get her dressed properly.”

Pimples removes the chloroform cloth, only to see lipstick and makeup stains on it.  “Ha, would you look at that!  The stupid tomboy tried to get dolled-up like a regular female!” he laughs.

“How vulgar,” offers Dora.

Frankie bends down, wipes his hand against Tommy’s cheek, then checks out a little makeup on his fingers.  “Awww, how cute.  She’s coming of age.  But we can’t waste time…  We’ve got to get this stupid bitch washed up and prepared.  C’mon, I have an idea… “

Bathroom.  Naked and unconscious, a vertical Tommy is held upside-down by Frankie and Pimples, backside on full display, her head dunked into a toilet bowl filled with water to wash away all makeup.  Celine and Dora watch, amused.  The boys raise Tommy’s dripping, sleeping face from the bowl, hair soaked into strands that hang down.

"There, that's a lot better!" Frankie quips.  Minutes later, the girl's quickly-dried hair is pulled back and a pink baby bonnet is attached to her dozing head. 

Enjoying every sadistic minute, Celine shakes baby powder on Tommy Boyd’s fully-exposed ass.  She rubs the stuff in as Dora reaches into the shopping bag.  Next, Celine pulls a white diaper over Tommy’s butt checks, but is stopped by Pimples.  “Wait a second, babe… I wanna get some pictures… y’know, ‘before and after’?

Indeed, Pimples uses his cell phone to snap images of Tommy Boyd’s scrumptious backside, before and after her diaper is pulled into place.

Ripped-up pants suit, bra and panties now in the teenager’s waste paper basket,  Tommy is once again spread-eagled on her own bed, but this time in the infant attire she’s previously worn, which Dora and Celine finish buttoning up.  Then Pimples picks up the comatose Boyd and carries her out…

Frankie drives his car to Lincoln Heights high, booze-guzzling Pimples in the seat beside him.  Still-fast asleep adult baby Tommy, complete with idiotic pink bonnet, is sandwiched between Dora and Celine in the back seat.

Lincoln Heights High auditorium.  Everyone mills about before the stage presentations begin.  Randy Starr and his date, an attractive law student named Rebecca, arrive.  Even Harold Pinter shows up, a little ill-at-ease in a suit and tie.  Tommy’s girlfriend April says hello to Randy and Rebecca, but expresses some concern…  Where is Tommy Boyd?

“I’ll be right back, Anatole!” Aunt Edwina says to her companion for this event, and the usually in-control Mr. Andreas looks just a tad bewildered as his date is ushered away from the audience by Marcia Sloan.

The show proceeds.  Finally, after several teachers and other locals have spoken their boring pieces, Marcia appears on stage.  She announces to the house that “Tomasina Boyd will give a speech about the importance and responsibilities of motherhood.”

Spotlight.  Surprise!  It’s Aunt Edwina Strictland front-and-center, not Tommy Boyd.  “As you can see, I am not Tomasina Boyd," she says.  "I am her long-suffering legal guardian, Edwina Strictland.”

Marcia starts to applaud on her behalf, and the audience follows suit.  Aunt Edwina tries to appear modest, raises her hands for everyone to stop.

“I’m sorry to say my incorrigible niece was about to disgrace Lincoln Heights once again, hoping to use this forum to speak against what is good and right.  A lesbian, she was preparing to poison our minds with heinous feminist propaganda.  Now remember, this is barely a month after Tomasina embarrassed the community at our annual school track meet, where she was naturally unable to keep up with the boys and threw a tantrum, starting fights with the other runners.”

The spotlight switches to Marcia, who continues with the subject.  “As everyone knows, we still owe Tomasina some kind of public punishment for that sorry episode.  So we decided to entertain you good people tonight with double-discipline, delivered with a comical touch.  Tomasina’s speech was supposed to be about motherhood and child-rearing.  Ladies and gentlemen, to fulfill that promise a most prominent Lincoln Heights resident will now demonstrate the proper feeding of a misbehaving infant.  Frank?”

Walking across the stage like he owns it is Frankie, all-dressed and followed by the spotlight.  Watching in the audience, Dora and Celine applaud wildly, along with just about everyone else.  Frankie does indeed have some low-voltage Fonz charm working for him, and he gives the gawkers an endearing salute as he struts to center stage, then stops.

Lights out.

Lights ON…  OMG!  It’s bonneted adult baby Tommy Boyd in an infant’s high chair, gagged and bound, her arms tied behind the chair back!  Tommy struggles, glaring at everyone, but it’s useless: she’s tied too tightly.  On the table portion of the chair before her sits a bowl of awful-smelling mush, with a spoon sticking out.

Everyone in the audience laughs hysterically… with a couple of logical exceptions.  April looks horrified, and Harold doesn’t seem to know what to do.  Randy laughs instinctively at first, as does his date, enjoying the outrageousness of Tommy’s apparently well-deserved punishment.  But then, after a short while, Starr’s smile begins to fade…

On stage, Frankie walks over to the high chair, grins at his helpless, ridiculed arch-enemy.  He pulls the gag down from Tommy’s mouth.  “You creep!” Tommy instantly shouts.  “Untie me right now!  This is a violation of my Constitutional Rights.  I – uummmphh!”

Before Tommy can finish her rant, Frankie has shoved a spoonful of disgusting mush into her mouth.  He then grabs the girl’s chin and shoves it up, forcing her to swallow.  Gulp!  Poor Tommy looks momentarily nauseated.

The audience breaks up at this response.  “Ladies and gents, there are many ways of handling a difficult infant,” Frankie explains.  “I prefer the direct approach.”

“Bastard!  When I get my hands on you --!” Tommy shouts.  A hush descends upon the audience.  Did this cute little baby girl in the pink bonnet really say such a terrible word?  Frankie just shakes his head (“hopeless”), exchanges a quick glance with equally pleased Marcia.  Then he looks to the audience.  Clearly, additional punishment will be required here…

Self-satisfied Aunt Edwina returns to her seat, and is surprised to see that Anatole has disappeared.  Gone to the men’s room, perhaps?

Backstage.  April bumps into Randy who bumps into Anatole, and they all bump into Harold.  Somehow, these concerned friends have got to think of a way to help Tommy defend herself.  That’s not going to be easy, of course, especially when they notice pain-in-the-neck Chad Parker snooping about.  Randy manages to distract his semi-friend, while Anatole does the same with a pesky stage manager.  At the same time, April and Harold prepare to launch a daring rescue plan…

Meanwhile, Tommy continues to rant defiantly.  “Girls are just as strong as boys!  You people are living in the dark – AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Tommy screams, as Frankie savagely tweaks her nose.  And with the girl’s mouth open, he promptly shovels more horrible mush into it!  Again, her chin is yanked up.  Gulp!  Gulp!  Gulp!  Weakened by the sudden assault and the stomach-sickening effects of the mush, dazed Tommy’s head hangs low for a moment.   Frankie happily pulls it up by the bonnet… such a funny face he puts on display!  The audience can’t stop laughing and applauding.

April rummages through her purse, produces a sharp nail file.  “Good luck” she whispers, as Harold takes it and embarks on his mission.  On the stage directly behind Tommy and Frankie, Pinter lowers himself to the ground and slowly crawls forward…

Chin held up again against her will, Tommy swallows down more mush.  Ugh!  “Every last drop, baby,” Frankie laughs.  “And just half a bowl to go!” As he raises yet another spoon of the garbage to her mouth, Tommy tries to keep her lips sealed, moves her face from the disgusting stuff.  Unfortunately, the Frankster has a “funny” solution for Boyd’s reticence.  Concealed by the table portion of the chair and out of view of the audience, Frankie manages to slug an unsuspecting Tommy right in the stomach!  “Ohhhhhh!!!” the girl cries in pain, her mouth fully open.

Meanwhile, Harold has managed to crawl his way directly behind Tommy, with no one on or off stage noticing.  He begins to use that file on her bonds…

“How cute!” Frankie tells all watchers.  “Our little girl just hiccupped!”  He takes the opportunity to grab Tommy’s still-opened mouth, lift the bowl of mush and pour the entire contents down her gullet!  The teenager gags, but Frankie works her head and throat so that she successfully swallows all the slop.

Tommy’s ropes are diligently worked on by Harold…

A grinning Marcia carries something over to Frankie and the nauseated Tommy.  “Oh ho, what have we here!” Frankie beams, as a second bowl of steaming mush is placed on the table front, before Boyd’s horrified eyes!  “You’ve earned a second helping!” laughs the amused feeder.  “Maybe you’ll think twice about using the “B” word in public again!”

The last rope is cut by Harold…  And Tommy feels the play.  Her eyes light up…

“Now, open wide!”

“SCREW YOU ASSHOLE!” Tommy shouts.  Hands finally free, she takes the bowl of mush and rams it right into Frankie’s face!  The audience gasps and screams!

Frankie’s face is covered with dripping mush!  But before he can he even react, Tommy’s out of her baby chair and all over him.  She slugs the hapless greaser over and over again, finally hauling him up for a knockout punch that sends him crashing right into the chair, which collapses in a heap.  As does Frankie.

Watching from her chair, Aunt Edwina looks shell-shocked as a smiling Anatole calmly resumes his seat next to her.  “Excuse me, dearest,” he says matter-of-factly.

Randy also resumes his seat.  “You missed a lot of the fun,” Rebecca tells him.  “That’s okay,” Randy replies.  “Looks like the best part is happening now!”

Losing control of the situation, a desperate Marcia instantly sends Chad, Pimples and another jock follower onto the stage.  Bad idea!  Tommy, still wearing her pink baby bonnet, torpedoes into Chad and the jock, knocking both he-men clear off the stage!  Then she turns to face her recent tormentor Pimples.  He takes a mighty swing and misses.  She responds with a powerful blow to his stomach, followed by a picture-perfect uppercut that sends him blasting backward.

We notice Mrs. Merribrook and Gwendolyn in the audience for the first time.  The youngster hands her horrified superior some smelling salts.

“Listen to me, everyone!” Tommy shouts, last man standing among several felled opponents.  “You just saw it right here.  Women are more than just baby-makers and happy housekeepers.  We’re tough and brave… we can do anything, be anything… “  She pulls the stupid pink bonnet off and tosses it to the floor distainfully.

Randy looks at his tomboy gal pal with renewed respect.  Backstage, a delighted Harold and April shake hands.  Mission accomplished!

“Girl Power Forever!” the feminist speaker sums up, raising a clenched fist.  Tommy looks around at the roomful of stunned observers.  Deafening silence.  Suddenly some applause is heard… clapping from little hands belonging to a little red-headed girl. She was brought to the auditorium show by her conservative parents, who quickly shush her enthusiastic reaction.

On stage, triumphant Tommy places her hands on diapered hips and smiles pragmatically.  “Well, it’s a start!”

Delighted by this outcome, Anatole stands up and starts applauding, a fainted Aunt Edwina right beside him.  Randy begins to clap too, as does an amused Rebecca.

Tommy just grins, folds her arms, and shakes her head.  It’s one small step for feminism in Lincoln Heights… and, despite that foul-tasting mush and some serious public humiliation, Colonel Boyd’s unstoppable daughter couldn’t be happier.