Photo: NBC

How would TV’s most beloved characters navigate social distancing? We asked dozens of showrunners and writers to answer that question. Below, Frasier executive producer Christopher Lloyd imagines a scene between Frasier and Niles as they’re stuck indoors because of the coronavirus.

FRASIER SITS AT A TABLE WITH A CAPPUCCINO.

FRASIER

Good morning, Niles.

NILES SITS AT A SEPARATE TABLE WITH CAPPUCCINO.

NILES

And to you, Frasier.

NILES, IN RUBBER GLOVES, WIPES HIS CHAIR WITH HIS HANDKERCHIEF, THEN MOVES ON TO WIPE HIS OPEN LAPTOP. WE NOW SEE THEY ARE IN DIFFERENT HOUSES AND SPEAK VIA SKYPE. NILES WIPES HIS CAMERA LENS.

FRASIER

Not that I don’t delight to the squealing of your rubber glove across the camera lens, but Dr. Freud might wonder if an excess cleansing of one’s physical space didn’t bespeak the distinctly unclean state of one’s own mind.

NILES

I have had impure thoughts during this confinement. Last night at virtual wine club, I assayed a ripe Bordeaux held more promise than the loose laces on a beer-hall barmaid’s peasant blouse.

FRASIER

You apologized, of course.

NILES

I resigned.

FRASIER

You’re worried about Maris, I’m sure. There are hard times for the slight. I recall seeing a single sneeze send her rocketing backward through your Japanese dressing screen.

NILES

She does have a place in the house that’s sneeze-safe.

FRASIER

Ah, yes, the padded room. We knew it would come in handy one day.

NILES

So, should we be concerned about Dad?

FRASIER

I’ve given that some thought. Here’s where I come out. Imagine the most pernicious bacteria in the dark corners of Madame Curie’s lab, black spores so malevolent other spores are afraid to be around them. Even these are no match for what teems in that plaid petri dish of a chair he’s spent the last 30 years in. The man is battle-tested.

NILES

Well, you’ve allayed my concerns. And you, Frasier, you’re bearing up?

FRASIER

I am. I’ve even reconnected with some old friends. A Haydn sonata I first learned in prep school, a volume of bawdy Rimbaud poems I used to recite to Lilith to stoke the fires.

NILES

Stoke the —

FRASIER

Fine, scrape the frost. It got the chopstick out of her bun. Shall I recite one?

NILES

Coming, Daphne! She needs my help.

FRASIER

I heard no cry of distress.

NILES

You would have if you’d started to recite a poem.

FRASIER

Very well. And you’re surviving, Niles?

NILES

I am. Better now … contact is everything, isn’t it? Thank you, Dr. Crane.

HE CLINKS HIS CAPPUCCINO TO HIS LENS.

FRASIER

Thank you, Dr. Crane.

HE TOO CLINKS.

NILES

Even a short conversation like that does wonders. I’ve found myself getting quite neurotic … wound up … tight like—

FRASIER

Oh, for God’s sake, Niles, just do it. It will kill you if you don’t.

NILES

Bless you, Frasier.

NILES FURIOUSLY SCRUBS THE LENS WHERE HIS COFFEE CUP TOUCHED IT, AND WE FADE OUT.

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