Scene 1:

 

After the theme show fades out, Frasier enters his apartment. He is positively beaming and carrying an ornate puzzle box wrapped in delicate decorative tissue paper.

 

“Niles! Dad! I’ve just found the most wonderful piece at that new antique dealer down the road. Prepare your eyes, and your minds, for an absolute triumph of aesthetic discovery!”

 

Martin Crane looks up from his chair and sets down his can of Ballantine. “If it’s another one of those damned opera records then let me stop you right there. The last one you bought made Eddy howl for three straight hours.”

 

*audience laughter

 

“No dad, it’s nothing of the sort. This is something far rarer, a true conversation piece. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anything like it before.” 

 

As Frasier strokes his new prized possession, Eddy eyes it suspiciously and begins to emit a low growl. Martin, noticing the dog’s discomfort, tries to calm his companion. “Hey, Eddy! Come on buddy, what’s gotten into you?” At that moment, Niles enters from the kitchen.

 

“What’s gotten into Eddy? What has Eddy gotten into is the better question. Just look at what he did to my new distressed Italian sling bag. He’s gnawed off half of the tassels!”

 

*audience laughter

 

Martin, grumbling, “You can call it whatever you want to but I still say that that’s a purse.”

 

*audience laughter

 

Niles, offended, replies, “It is not a purse. It’s an Italian sling bag and it was handcrafted by —”

 

“Yes, yes, it was made by a skilled tradesman in Tuscany whose work was so intricate that he went mad, blah blah blah,” Frasier interrupted. Seeing his brother’s look of disappoint, Frasier added, “I’m sorry to cut you off like that Niles but you’ve just got to see my latest acquisition. I’m really terrible excited.” With a flourish, Frasier removes the tissue paper and holds the puzzle box up to the light.

 

Niles gasps with delight. Eddy barks and runs from the room. Martin rolls his eyes and picks up his Ballantine, taking a big sip. With a few quick strides, Niles crosses the room and gazes up at the puzzle box with reverence.

 

“Oh Frasier, it’s magnificent! Look at the detail! The inlays, the symmetry, it’s clearly the work of a tortured genius. Is it Romanian?”

 

“No,” Frasier said. “The shopkeeper said it was Hellif.”

 

“Hellif?” Niles asked, confusion evident in his tone.

 

“Yes. I asked where it was from and he said, ‘Hell if I know’.”

 

*audience laughter

 

Niles takes the box from Frasier’s hand delicately and turns it in his upturned palm. “Well wherever it’s from, it’s exquisite craftsmanship.”

 

Frasier beamed with pride. “It really is! His best guess is that it dates back to the early Middle Ages. He called it a ‘puzzle box of singular experience’.”

 

“That’s antique dealer speak for no refunds,” Martin said, taking another sip from his Ballantine.

 

*audience laughter

 

As Niles hands the box back to Frasier, it emits a small mechanical click and a small section of ornate gold patterning switches position.

 

“Did…did that just move?” Niles asked, equal parts worry and awe on his face. Frasier waved away his brother’s worry with a dismissive gesture.

 

“Not to worry Niles, it is simply a clever internal mechanism. You know, puzzle boxes date all the way back to the Hakone region of Japan in the 1800’s. They say that there were three expert craftsmen who —”

 

Another panel moved and a second clicking was heard. The lighting in the room subtly dimmed for a moment, as if a power surge had passed through the apartment. Martin eyed the box with suspicion.

 

“Okay,” Martin said flatly, “I’m officially not liking that thing.”

 

*audience laughter

 

Frasier gave another dismissive wave, this time for his father. “Oh, pish-tosh dad, there’s nothing to worry about. You see, it is simply doing as it’s supposed to. If I were to squeeze the corners here and twist it like so —”

 

As Frasier rotated another section of the box, more internal clicks and clacks are heard. Suddenly, the box begins to twist and turn of its own accord. A low rumble shakes the room and a harsh humming sound spills forth from the puzzle box.

 

“Frasier?” Niles said nervously, taking a step back. “Why is the room humming?” The puzzle box falls from Frasier’s hand and lands on his coffee table. The box shudders and shakes, accompanied by a knocking sound.

 

Daphne, summoned by the knocking, enters from the kitchen, a cloth towel slung over her shoulder. “Bloody Hell,” she said with frustration. “It’s not like I’m cooking dinner or anything. I love to stop what I’m doing to answer the door when there’s three capable men right here in the living room. Well, there’s you three anyway.”

 

“Bloody Hell sounds about right,” Martin says, wide-eyed. He shouts for Eddy and follows Daphne to the door. “Come on,” he says, grabbing Daphne by the arm. “Let’s take Eddy for a walk. It’s gettin’ weird in here!” They exit the apartment.

 

Niles peers down at the puzzle box with apprehension. “Say, Frasier,” he says. “I couldn’t help but notice that your latest treasure is pulsing with unearthly darkness.”

 

“So what?” Frasier snaps, his nerves turning to anger. “Maris did the same thing for the first five years of your marriage, how did you make that stop?”

 

*audience laughter

 

With another loud clack, the box split open and a multitude of chains sprang forth like a spilled glass of sherry. Four grotesque Cenobites materialized from the thick fog that began emanating from the opened puzzle. The foremost figure, one with hundreds of metal pins protruding from his head, spoke first.

 

“We have such sights to show you.”

 

Niles and Frasier shared a stunned and frightened look.

 

“No thank you,” Frasier said politely. “I’d really rather stay home today. And look! You can see the space needle from the balcony. That’s enough sightseeing for me.”

 

*audience laughter

 

The pin-pricked stranger spoke again. “You opened the box. We came.”

 

“Yes, that’s also how door’s work,” Niles said, unsuccessfully trying to use humor to lighten the mood in the room. The Cenobite’s stared at him, unamused.

 

“You opened the box. Your soul is now forfeit.”

 

“My soul?!” Frasier shouts, disbelief in his voice. “Preposterous! I’m a respected radio psychiatrist, a man of culture! And I have a standing reservation at Le Cigare Volant next Thursday!”

 

“And just to be clear,” Niles added, “he’s also the one who opened the box. I was just standing here.”

 

*audience laughter

 

The Cenobites were silent, save for one of them that continued to chatter its teeth. Frasier began to sweat although the room had grown unbearably cold. “Please, gentlemen,” Frasier begged. “Surely there’s some solution, some compromise we can come to.” The Cenobites shared a knowing glance.

 

“There…is a way,” the lead Cenobite admitted.

 

“I’m listening,” Frasier said.

 

The Cenobite smiled. As his smile spread, so did his arms, opening to gesture at the empty apartment. “It is simple,” the Cenobite assured Frasier. “All you have to do is to host a dinner party; a successful one.” Frasier and Niles shared a knowing, horrified look.

 

“And, if I shall fail?” Frasier asked nervously. The Cenobites leaned in and whispered as one.

 

“Then you shall spend eternity…with us.”

 

“And you thought that promising to spend eternity with Lilith was bad.”

 

*audience laughter

 

 

Scene 2:

 

Frasier and Niles sit at the dining table, furiously writing out a guest list and then crossing it back out.

 

“This is hopeless, simply hopeless,” Niles lamented. “A dinner party without a disaster? That’s like training to be a cheesemonger without a Latvian cheese slicer. It simply cannot be done!”

 

“Shut up! Shut you, you ninny! We can DO this, you hear me? You just have to believe. Tell me Niles, do you believe?”

 

“I believe that I don’t need to take this kind of abuse. After all, I’m not the one who opened the box.”

 

*audience laughter

 

Niles tries to walk away but Frasier grabs him frantically by his sleeve. “I’m sorry! You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m sure you can imagine why I’m feeling just a little bit stressed out right now. But you’re right, lashing out isn’t the answer.”

 

Niles sighs. “Then just what is the answer, Frasier?”

 

Frasier tapped his chin in thought before raising his hand with a brilliant idea. “I’ve got it! Remember that Aztec antiquities lecture we attended at Harvard? The one hosted by Dr. Celso Armando Mendoza? He talked about how, oftentimes, they believed that instead of facing punishment themselves, they could substitute a virgin in their place.”

 

Niles shook his head for a moment and then asked, “And you think that this is applicable to a dinner in which we’re inviting Roz?”

 

*audience laughter

 

“Well then just what on God’s green earth do you suggest, Niles? I’m fresh out of ideas.”

 

Niles shrugged. “Duck a l’orange?”

 

*audience laughter

 

“I grant you that that dish is one of my specialities, yet there has never been this much at stake before. Do you really think it’ll work?”

 

“It will if it’s paired with a winsome yet robust Chambertin,” Niles responded.

 

*audience laughter

 

The brothers Crane made the best plans they could and set out to begin the preparations. The guest list was finalized, the ingredients were fetched from the French market, and their father Martin was sent away to Duke’s. As Niles arranged flowers in a lovely centerpiece, he asked:

 

“Are you sure we should have sent dad away? Perhaps his former policeman skills would have come in handy getting us out of trouble.”

 

“Ah yes, that’s just what this dinner party needs,” Frasier said sarcastically. “Another ancient, cranky being to state the obvious when things go wrong. Just what would we do without that?”

 

“Now, now, there’s no need to be snippy,” Niles said as he snipped away the excess leaves from a rose stem. As soon as he was finished, the flowers all wilted and died, no doubt the effect of the evil puzzle box lying nearby. Niles sighed and began to set the table. As he laid the forks in their proper place, they began to rotate and the spoons bent as if by telepathy.

 

“Uhhh, Frasier? Your cutlery seems to be…resisting me.”

 

*audience laughter

 

“Well, just do your best,” Frasier said distractedly. “I’m at a crucial stage with the soufflé and, as you know, timing is everything. In order for this to work, the soufflé must rise at precisely—”

 

The doorbell rang. Frasier gasps and bolts for the door. “My God! The guests are arriving early!” He threw open the door in a panic.

 

The hallway is empty.

 

Frasier looks from left to right, seeing nobody. He turns to return to his task and finds his living room now filled with leather-clad Cenobites.

 

“We will be watching,” said the man with the pins. Behind him, the chattering Cenobite stuck a crab puff in his mouth and it disappeared between his clacking teeth.

 

“Ah,” said Frasier. “Well, do try to be discreet.”

 

*audience laughter

 

As Frasier attempts to return to the kitchen, he finds himself face-to-face with his father, Martin, emerging from the back room.

 

“Dad! What are you doing here?”

 

“I know, I know, you told me to go over to McGinty’s with Duke but he’s on a fishing trip with his daughter and I didn’t want to disturb him. God only knows I wish I had a kid who’d want to go fishing with me.”

 

*audience laughter

 

“But Dad!”

 

“Yeah, I know Frasier, I’ve heard it all before. ‘The worm is slimy, the fish is smelly, the boat has a leak and it’s ruining my handcrafted Italian shoes.’ Gee, you know, for an eight year old using an attaché case as a tackle box, you sure knew how to suck the fun out of a boat.”

 

*audience laughter

 

Martin notices the Cenobites standing around the living room for the first time. “Hate to embarrass you in front of your weirdo friends,” he muttered. Frasier grabbed him under the arm and rushed him into the kitchen.

 

“Dad, you don’t understand,” Frasier hissed in a whisper once he had him in the other room.

 

“I understand plenty,” Martin said. “And those friends of yours need to spend less time at snooty parties and more time outside. I mean, my God, they’re all paler than Lilith!”

 

Niles and Frasier quickly filled their father in on what was happening. With a shocked shake of his head, Martin fetched a Ballantine’s from the fridge and cracked it open.

 

“So you’re telling me that the only way you’re gonna be safe is if nothing goes wrong during dinner?”

 

“That’s correct dad.”

 

“Gee. Shoulda just ordered pizza then.”

 

*audience laughter

 

“Nonsense dad. As long as we stay focused, avoid fighting, and refuse to show even the slightest bit of weakness, we should come out of this alright.”

 

“Umm, Frasier?” Niles said from in front of the oven, which was dripping with a rapidly expanding mess of goop, “I think the soufflé is collapsing.”

 

“As am I!” Frasier shouts, falling dramatically to the floor and weeping without tears.

 

 

Scene 3:

 

The doorbell rang with the arrival of the first guests. As the three Crane men hurried to the door, Frasier gave them all a friendly reminder.

 

"Places, everyone! And remember, this is for my immortal soul!” Frasier’s face changed from a look of horror to one of a smiling host as soon as he opened the door. “Ah! Gil Chesterton and Chopper Dave! Thank you so much for coming.”

 

“THANKS FOR HAVING US, FRASIER!” Chopper Dave yelled as if speaking over the din of his news helicopter. “YOUR PLACE LOOKS LOVELY AS ALWAYS!”

 

Gil Chesterton, for his part, glanced up towards the ceiling with a barely disguised look of revulsion. “Say, Frasier, is that a mass of chains and hooks hanging from your ceiling?”

 

With a suppressed gasp, Frasier sees the torture devices that the Cenobites have already lined his ceiling with.

 

“No, of course not, Gil,” Frasier said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “It’s a new chandelier. It’s avant-garde.”

 

“It’s dreadful,” Gil said, unimpressed. “And is that blood dripping down the ends of it?”

 

“That’s rust,” Martin cut in, appearing from the kitchen with a tray of crab puffs. “The, uhh, upstairs neighbor had an illegal washer/dryer in their unit and it sprang a leak. Crab puff?”

 

*audience laughter as Martin hold out a tray of appetizers 

 

Gil takes a crab puff and one last glance at the chains and hooks on the ceiling. “Avant-garde, you say? Reminds me of a trip I took to Amsterdam with my wife Deb.”

 

*audience laughter

 

“Yes, well, do make yourself at home,” Frasier said. “Please ignore any…ambient irregularities. I’m in the middle of a remodel.”

 

“Uh, Fras?” Martin says, interrupting and gesturing towards the kitchen with his cane. There is a dark plume of smoke billowing from the room. “I think you should go check on that soufflé.”

 

*audience laughter

 

Frasier laughs and causally walks towards the kitchen. “Oh, I see that Niles is having some fun with that browning torch.” Once past the threshold, Frasier panics and runs to the oven where Niles is waving his arms, trying to disperse the heavy smoke. After donning a pair of Perigold oven mitts, he opened the oven and gasped as a large sticky substance popped and fizzed to the floor.

 

“That is not how eggs are supposed to behave,” he cried with disappointment. “How high did you set the oven?”

 

“I don’t think the temperature is the problem,” Niles said. “Look at the timer. It keeps resetting itself it 666.”

 

*audience laughter

 

After instructing Niles to prepare the soufflé for the third time, the party continued to have problems.

 

“Hey Martin,” Roz asked incredulously, “is there a reason that my chair keeps moving on its own?”

 

Martin shrugged. “It’s avant-garde?”

 

“Define avant-garde,” Roz demanded.

 

“Don’t worry about the chair,” Martin tried to reassure her. “Try this next appetizer. Frasier tells me that it has a delicate reduction—” The tray cracks in half of its own accord. “In the size of the serving tray,” Martin finished, sweat beading on his forehead. “Say, I could use a beer.”

 

“Make that two,” Roz shouted after him as Martin hurried away. Meanwhile, across the room, Frasier did his best to stay ahead of the complaints of his guests.

 

“IT’S A LITTLE COLD IN HERE!” Chopper Dave shouted.

 

“Atmosphere!” Frasier explained. “Just a bit of theatrical flair!”

 

“And what about the pale dorks in the corner, just standing there? They’re kinda creepy,” Bob ‘Bulldog’ Briscoe commented. “Although the chick with barbed wire on her face is kinda cute. Woof!”

 

“Ha ha, those are merely, uh, actors! They’ve been rehearsing a new piece down at the Seattle Performance Center and I offered to let them meet here for a meal after dress rehearsals. Please, don’t mind them. Or, you know, look them in the eye.”

 

Bulldog gave Frasier a perplexed look.

 

“You know how actors can be,” Frasier finished weakly. Martin came up and added, helpfully, “They’re avant-garde.”

 

*audience laughter

 

“Well, whatever they are, it’s good to see that you’re no longer the biggest pinhead up here, eh doc? Woof!” Bulldog walked off to hit on the lady Cenobite as Frasier nearly sank to the floor from stress.

 

“Oh dad, what am I going to do? This party is a disaster, just like all the rest.”

 

Martin put a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Fras. I have a plan. We just need to stall them for a little longer, thirty minutes or less.” Frasier nodded vigorously, catching a second wind. “You’re right dad,” he said. “But where can we find ourselves a decent distraction?” At that moment, the smoke detector went off and Niles called out from the kitchen.

 

“Ooohh, Frasier! Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment?” 

 

Frasier gasped and ran.

 

*audience laughter

 

Upon entering the kitchen, Frasier was dismayed to see the fattest butterball Cenobite leaning over a dripping mess of eggs and burning its skin on the hot stovetop while it ate. 

 

“I’m sorry Frasier,” Niles said. “I tried to get him away from the soufflé.”

 

“Then what happened?” Frasier asked, eyeing the mess splashed across his kitchen.

 

“I got scared and hid on the other side of the room instead,” Niles told him. Then, trying to help, Niles grabbed a small rag and began to clean up the farthest edge of the counter. “You know how I feel about confrontations with large men in leather.”

 

*audience laughter

 

“Yes, I remember quite well your crying jag when we went to see Grease on stage in the fourth grade,” Frasier said with a shake of his head.

 

“That Danny Zuko was seven feet tall if he was a foot!”

 

“He wasn’t tall, he was just up on a stage you stupid idiot!”

 

“Stupid idiot? Why I have half a mind to—“

 

“Half a mind, you say? Well, that would certainly explain your inability to cook a simple soufflé!” 

 

“You know what, Frasier? I think that—” but Niles had his tirade cut short by the ringing of the doorbell. Frasier whimpered beside him. 

 

“Oh, please, why? What fresh hell is this?” Frasier hung his head as he walked slowly, like a man on death row, to answer the door.

 

Dejectedly, aware of every pair of Cenobite eyes on him, Frasier opened the door.

 

“No way! Dr. Crane?”

 

Frasier looked up and saw a familiar face standing before him. “Kirby? What on earth are you doing here?”

 

“Working,” he answered, brandishing a stack of large pizzas. “Gotta work somewhere since the station never hired me on.”

 

Frasier blew out a big breath of relief. “Oh my, Kirby, you have no idea how happy I am to see you. Please, do come in.”

 

“Far out,” Kirby said as he sauntered into the room. Eyeing the chains and torture devices on the ceiling, he nodded and said, “love what you’ve done with the place.” Then, accompanied by a well-placed wink, he said, “Roz, nice to see you too.”

 

As the guests gathered around Kirby and brought empty plates to be filled with slices of delicious pizza, Frasier sank onto the couch. His father sat beside him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

 

“See, Fras? I told you it would all work out.” Frasier looked about the room and saw happy faces on all of his guests.

 

“You seem to be right dad, as usual. Thanks for saving the day.”

 

Martin Crane patted his son’s shoulder again and said, “Not a problem. See, that’s the problem with your parties: you always overthink things. Parties aren’t complicated, all you need is friends, Ballantine’s, a nice gooey pizza or two. You and your egghead brother never understood that.

 

“Please,” Frasier said, grabbing a large slice of pepperoni pizza, “don’t ever mention eggs around me again.”

 

*audience laughter

 

"Hey baby, I hear the blues are calling,

Tossed salads and scrambled eggs.

And maybe I seem a bit confused,

Yeah maybe, but I got you pegged.

But I don’t know what to do with those tossed salads and scrambled eggs.”