1 - Ifeelmyself Fine And Dandy

Iris takes a leave of absence. She sees a neurologist (nothing physically wrong) and a therapist who specializes in dissociation. The Dandies don’t disappear—they fuse .

Logline: After a bizarre neurological incident, a chronically anxious office worker’s inner monologue splits into a chorus of relentlessly optimistic, jingle-singing personas—forcing her to confront the trauma she’s been “fine and dandy” about for decades. Ifeelmyself Fine And Dandy 1

She walks to the breakroom. A colleague asks, “How are you?” Iris takes a leave of absence

Iris pauses. Smiles slightly. Says: “I’m… feeling myself. Fine. And dandy. But today, mostly just fine.” Smiles slightly

By day 3, there are . They sing in overlapping harmonies. They rewrite her internal monologue into show tunes. They literally block her vision with choreographed dance numbers during meetings.

Cut to black. Then, a post-credits sting: One tiny, forgotten Dandy tap-dances alone on a subway platform, humming. He looks at the camera, tips his hat, and whispers: “See you next season.” Happiness isn’t a performance. But sometimes, it’s a musical you have to cancel.

One Tuesday, while correcting a spreadsheet error (row 4,004, column F), she feels a “pop” behind her left eye. Suddenly, a small, tap-dancing version of herself in a vaudeville suit appears on her keyboard, singing: “Oh, the data’s misaligned / But I’m feeling fine and dandy! / Got a twitch behind my mind / But I’m feeling fine and dandy!”