Topper
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Topper 01: Good Deeds Are Where They Find You free porn video
Topper was written by Thorne Smith, made into a movie in 1937;
with sequels: 1939, 1941 and a TV show from 1953-1955
01) Good Deeds Are Where They Find You
By Ron Dow75 [email protected]
"Mr. Topper," the senior bank manager's secretary said, as she
opened the office door, "I'll be leaving now. Is there any..."
She stopped because there, behind his desk, the distinguished man
in his late-fifties had his arms up and out at the elbows,
swinging them around as if he doing Red Skeleton's Seagull
Routine in a thunderstorm.
"George! Marion! Leave me be! I have work to do! I *am*
responsible for the health of the bank's finances!"
But instead of stopping whatever he thought he was doing, Mr.
Topper came out from behind his desk on the tiptoes of his oxford
shoes.
"My health is fine! The men in my family all lived well into
their sixties!"
"I am glad to hear that. I think."
"Oh, Mrs. Pittman!" her boss said, sounding surprised and
concerned that she was there, watching him. "Would you be so kind
as to..."
But before he could finish what he was going to say, he kicked up
his legs, and fell forward onto the ornate rug.
"Mr. Topper!!" Mrs. Pittman cried, hurrying over to help him.
"What happened?!"
"Would you believe I tripped over an invisible St. Bernard?"
"Mr. Topper, you have been acting very odd lately," she said,
stooping to help someone she considered a much older person.
"Yes; ever since I moved into the Kerbys' house," he said,
accepting her aid.
"The Kerbys? Didn't the secretary before me say you were the
executor of their trusts?"
"And of their estate, now. They didn't leave a proper will. They
never *did* have enough common sense," the man said, looking not
at his secretary, but off at empty air as he got to his feet.
"It must still upset you to think of your friends...passing on."
"The Kerbys were "friends" of just about everyone. And as for
them 'passing on', I wish..."
There was a pause as Mr. Topper failed to finish what he was
saying. "What do you wish, Mr. Topper?"
"Never mind, Mrs. Pittman," he sighed. "As the Kerbys' executor,
I suppose it is my duty to carry out their last wish."
With that, Mr. Topper put up his elbows again, and hurried from
her on his tiptoes again. "I could be persuaded to change my
mind, you know," he said, but not to her.
Mrs. Pittman shook her head, and said, "Mr. Topper has been
working too hard for too long. He's having a nervous breakdown."
***
Out in the busy street, Cosmo Topper asked the tall, handsome man
in a well-tailored suit that was more than a year out of fashion,
"Where did Marion go?"
"She went to get your hat and brawly. You may have loosened up in
the short time we've been dead, but we know you're not casual
enough to go without those yet."
"Quite right," Cosmo agreed.
"But we'll get you there. You're our good deed that will get us
into Heaven."
"I wish you and Marion had been more good, ...or less good, so
that you would not be stuck in this earthly limbo as ghosts."
"What a thing to say: 'less good'! I'm glad wishes are not
retroactive."
"I'm sorry, George. But sometimes I think I will be dead before
you've done your 'good deed', and then instead of going to..."
"Ah! Here comes your hat and brawly!" George said.
Cosmo looked around to see them "floating" over to him.
"Marion! You know better than to pull those 'tricks' in public!"
"Don't worry, Toppie," the "Ghostess with the mostest" smiled.
"This is New York City!" The attractive female was more obviously
out of style. She was only holding his hat, though.
Topper looked down, and saw the umbrella was in the jaws of a St.
Bernard with a keg on its collar.
"Er, maybe I won't carry my brawly today, after all." Topper said
as Marion positioned his hat upon his head.
"Come on, Topper!" George grinned. "It's only ghost drool."
"And that's suppose to make it better?" he said, looking up at
the other ghost.
There was a honk, honk that didn't sound rude.
Cosmo Topper looked around, and saw a limousine slowly cruising
by.
"Oooo, Toppie's got himself a new chauffer," Marion said.
"I thought we got rid of the last two," George said, having
retrieved the umbrella.
"Don't you dare," Topper told them. "Mrs. Topper insists I come
home in one."
"But you only live a few blocks away," George said.
"In our townhouse," Marion said.
"It's good exercise!" George told him.
"Woof!"
"We all know you don't like exercise, Neil," George said to the
dog.
"It's only for this week, while we have some of her relatives
over," Cosmo told them.
"You really love Henrietta, don't you, Cosmo?" Marion smiled.
"Yes. I do. She may not be young and beautiful as you two judge
beauty. But there are more important things."
"Obviously, intelligence is not one of them," George commented.
"George!" Marion warned. "I think it's sweet."
"Then you won't disturb her company for the duration of their
stay with us?"
"Have we ever bothered you when it was not absolutely necessary
for us to carry out our good deed?" George asked.
"Yes."
"Don't worry, Cosmo," Marion said. "You won't even know we're
around."
"He won't?" George asked.
"Woof!"
"He won't!" his wife told him.
"Is that a promise?" Cosmo wanted to know.
"As I don't live and breathe!" Marion said, raising a hand in the
Girl Scout pledge sign.
"Well, maybe I *can* relax for a little while," and as he was
saying that, he saw the limousine coming towards him again from
its trip around the block.
***
"Why did you tell Topper that?" George asked Marion as soon as
the door had closed on Topper's ride.
"Because it's true. We are not going to go inside the house for
one week."
"Why? I thought ghosts were suppose to haunt their houses."
"That's the point, George. You know what happened when we died."
"Well...after the avalanche killed us while we were on that
skiing trip..."
"Woof!"
"You weren't on the skiing trip, Neil," George told the dog. "You
were just a lousy rescue dog, that got caught in the avalanche
with us."
"Woof!"
"The next thing we knew, we were looking at our remains with dear
Toppie. He had flown all the way to Europe to take us home."
Marion said.
"That is how we knew that he was our good deed. Only he can see
or hear us."
"Woof!"
"You, too, Neil."
"But there were no angels, nor signs, nor anything else that told
us what we have to do to get to Heaven." Marion said. "We have
had to figure everything out for ourselves."
"I'll admit, as either people or ghosts, we're not the brightest.
We've never had to be. But you'd have to be pretty dim not to
figure out that if someone can see you, they are important to
you."
"But just *how* important is Toppie? What will happen to us, if
something happens to Cosmo? Is *he* our only chance for our good
deed?"
"I see what you mean.
"But what if we fade without him?"
"We'll stay close to him. But we have to see if we can do good
deeds for other people."
"And maybe one of them will be the good deed we need to get into
Heaven!" George smiled with hope.
"Woof!"
"No, George. Not until we save Toppie from his stuffed-shirt
life."
***
"So, Marion, how do we start?" George asked.
"Well, we walk towards the house. We have to be near Topper, in
case we start to fade."
"Right. Lets see, we know the neighborhood fairly well. We've
partied with half of them."
"We know the gossip. That ought to help. There's Gloria Epstein;
she's been married four times, and was looking for number five,
the last I heard. She may already be on husband number six, by
now..."
While in the middle of her reporting on the gossip, Marion felt
George's presence had slipped from her.
She looked around for the only companion she had in death besides
Topper and Neil.
Neil was gone, too.
"George!"
***
"If I find Neil, I find George," Marion told herself, walking
back in the direction she'd came from. "After all, just as we
have to haunt Topper, Neil has to haunt us. How hard is it to
find a St. Bernard in the middle of Manhattan? Of course, nobody
has to make room for that martini-lapping hound...They can just
walk through him and-"
"Woof!"
"Neil!!" Marian cried with relief.
But no, it wasn't him. It was just some Pomeranian a woman was
carrying.
"Woof!"
"Wait a minute...A lap dog that *sounds* like a St. Bernard?"
Marion stopped her searching.
She looked at the dog, then raised her eyes to look at,
"*George*??"
"Er, hello, dear," her husband said in that way too charming way
he got when he knew he'd gotten caught. He was well made-up, very
blonde, and had the latest style of hair and clothes.
"George! What are you doing inside another woman?!"
"Well, right now, it looks as if I'm going into this office
building." A man carrying a large number of packages had finally
retrieved those that he'd dropped, and was now leaving the
revolving doors.
"George, I forbid you to go off with another woman!"
"Actually, *she* is going off with me." And the woman entered the
doors.
"What?!" Marion said, upset that another woman would take her
husband away from her. She walked through the turning door, and
stayed up with her. "And where is she taking you?"
"To the bank of elevators, it would appear."
"George Kerby, if this building has a penthouse-" Just then, a
man brushed through the ghostess he couldn't see. "-What!?!! Give
me back my arm!" Marion cried, as she was almost dragged away by
the man.
"Let go of me, sir!" She managed to pull her arm out of him; but
only after she had been dragged away from George and the woman.
"Woof!" and Neil.
She barely made it to the elevator in time. "Careful," George
warned, "you don't want to become trapped like Neil and I are."
Marion tried to stay pressed into the front corner away from the
buttons, "Are you sure you are trapped?" she asked, suspicious.
"Of course we are. Do you think Neil *wants* to be a Pomeranian?"
"...As opposed to being a dead St. Bernard?"
"And miss out on his martinis?"
"I don't know, George," Marion said, sizing up the woman. "This
girl looks like she could keep *her* dog in alcohol."
The elevator stopped, three people got off, and one got on. "She
is not a 'girl'." her husband tried to assure her. "She is not
much younger than you."
"I would say she's at least 5 years young than I am. Or, rather,
was."
"But she's not as beautiful as you are, dear. Just look how much
make-up she has to use."
"Ah-ha, you *were* looking at her before you became 'trapped'."
"I _know _how much make-up she wears, because I can feel it."
"George Kerby! You are feeling another woman!"
"I am feeling *like* a woman!"
"You were always feeling 'like' a woman. You were your most
charming, when you were near one."
"Marion, fighting is not our style. Jealousy does not become you.
We are the only ones we have."
"Maybe not any more," she said.
The elevator stopped again, and the woman finally got out. Marion
followed.
She was careful to walk behind the too beautiful woman, and
avoided accidentally coming into contact with anybody who passed
her.
It wasn't long before they approached to the woman's destination.
The frosted window (the size of a full-length mirror) on the door
read, _"The Jill Johnson Modeling Agency" _.
"She's a model?!" Marion said, her heart sinking.
"She's a model!?" George said, his heart shrinking.
"Woof!"
"Well, you're the dog of a model," George told him.
"Yes, Neil. How do we know you're not in a doggie model," Marion
told him, as the woman opened the door.
"Woof!"
"Good morning, Miss Grant," said the young man behind the front
desk, who was handsome enough to be a male model. "Go right in,
Miss Johnson is expecting you."
"Thank you, Richard," Miss Grant said, heading for another door.
"At least it sounds like she's a successful model," George said.
"I don't see why," Marion sniffed. "She has too many curves."
"You're telling me!"
"George..." she warned.
"Marion, those are now my curves, too!" George explained. "And I
assure you I don't like being bent."
"Ginger!" the woman in the inner office said from her filing
cabinet, her back to them. "Take a seat; I'll be with you in a
moment."
"Her name is Ginger Grant," George reported.
"Ginger Grant"?" Marion thought, "Why does that name sound
familiar?"
"Never mind why *she* seems familiar!" George said.
"What do you..." Marion's mouth dropped open.
"So...How was your family reunion? Does your little cousin still
want to be a movie star?" Jill said, heading to her desk with a
file.
"She...she..."
"Looks just like you, Marion!"
"Woof!"
"The trip was a disaster, of course. They still want me to change
my name back to Klutts. Can you imagine a model who is a Klutts?"
"I've know a few," Jill Johnson smiled. Marion started walking
around her, studying her from every angle.
"I'm glad to be back in the City, and ready to get another job. I
don't have too many years left as a model. Then what will I do?
Open an agency of my own?"
"Woof!"
"She and I are not that old!" Marion said, straightening up.
"*I* didn't say it!" George pleaded innocence.
"Please, don't," Jill was still smiling. "I have enough
competition.
"Now, where I'm sending you, Ginger, is not exactly a job."
"Oh? Is this the beginning of my long, slow slide down the
ranks?"
"I hope so." Marion said, her arms crossed, coming out from
behind the desk to stare down at the woman.
"Marion, that's not like you."
"No, Ginger. You are still one of my top talents," Jill said,
trying to reassure her.
"I can't help it, George. She has my husband."
"It is just that it is time to update your portfolio."
Ginger sighed. "Not again with the endless shots from all angles,
doing all the predictable poses."
"Good Lord!" George groaned.
"You're at the top, Ginger; so you won't have a photohog who's
building his own portfolio. You know 'Easel' Addams."
"Old 'Easel'!?!" George said.
"At least you won't be doing pin-ups." Marion smiled, savoring a
little uncharacteristic revenge.
"I'd almost rather," George said.
"*And* it'll all be paid for by Nevron Cosmetics," Jill Johnson
said, saving the best news for last.
"A cosmetics company wants to use *her*?!" Marion said.
"Isn't that the brand you used, Marion?" George said, some humor
in his voice.
"Hmph!" Marion said, crossing her arms, and stepping away from
them.
"They're coming out with a new line, and they need to have some
professional test shots made."
"Does that mean they might want me to be one of their models?!"
Ginger asked, seeing the value of the non-paying job.
"You can't go in there!!" Richard cried from the outside office.
"Miss Johnson, Mr. Gibson to see you!!"
Ginger didn't act like a normal person: She sat up even more
erect in the chair, pushing her chest out, arching her back, and
wetting her lips.
So, George missed it, when a man threw the door open, and stormed
right through the surprised Marion.
"Jill, you've really done it this time!" the man told her
angrily.
"And what did I do this time, Jack?" Jill smiled him, like a cat
who'd eaten a canary.
"You *stole* the Nevron account from me and my agency!"
"If I stole it, you could have me arrested; if I broke a
contract, you could sue me."
"You undercut me! Who loans out their top talent for free?!"
"Is that what she did?!" Ginger cried, turning, at last, to look
at the man.
"This just keeps getting more strange," George said to himself.
"What is it, George?!"
"Marion, are you in him?!"
"Ginger," Jack nodded tersely at the other woman.
"I'm afraid I am. And you're right, you *do* feel everything."
Jack got an idea, and turned back towards Ginger, "Isn't your
contract coming up for renewal, Ginger?"
"It is not!" Jill said, rising out of her chair.
"How do I feel?" George asked.
"You? You mean?!!" Marion cried.
"Lawyers at twenty paces." Jack smiled, leaning his hands on her
desk, and going eye to eye with her.
"If you can't do a good deed for your identical doubles, who can
you do a good deed for?" George asked.
It's a true Xover!
***
According to _"Total Television, a Comprehensive Guide" _(by Alex
McNeil):
Robert Sterling ("George Kerby") and Anne Jeffreys ("Marion
Kerby") where in the TV show _"Love That Jill" _from 20 Jan.
1958-28 Ap. 1958 [Produced by Alex Gottlieb.]
Note: The book said a model named Ginger was a regular. It did
not list her last name; I could not resist. Apparently, with my
adding "Easel" Addams, I could be putting in *more *TV
references.
Addenda:
TV's Cosmo Topper, Leo G. Carroll, was also "Alexander Waverly",
Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin's boss in _"The Man from
U.N.C.L.E" _, 22 Sep. 1964-15 Jan. 1968.
Anne Jeffreys was in _"The Delphi Bureau" _,5 Oct. 1972-1 Sep.
1973, as the reluctant spy with photographic memory's assistant,
Sybil Van Loween. And was in _"Finder of Lost Loves" _, 22 Sep.
1984-24 Aug-1985, as office manager Rita Hargrove.
Might as well mention that Robert Sterling was in _"Ichabod and
Me" _, as "Me", 26 Sep. 1961-18 Sep. 1962, where Bob Major bought
a small town New England newspaper.
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