* Men. (doorbell rings)
JUDITH: I said, "No!"
JAKE: And I said, "Why not?"
No! Why not?
I don't have to give you a reason. Dad, I got my learner's permit
but Mom won't let me drive her car.
Just because they give 15-year-olds learner's permits,
doesn't mean they're ready to drive.
Oh, please, I've been driving for years.
Grand Theft Auto One, Grand Theft Auto Two.
And I never ran over anybody but pimps and crack whores.
Jake.
Sorry. Crack prostitutes.
Go get started on your homework.
Afterward, will you take me driving?
We'll talk about it later.
When? Just go to your room.
I'm available now.
Go!
Man, if I knew how to hot-wire a real car,
I'd so be outta here.
Well, thanks for bringing him by, I guess.
Yeah. Uh, if you need to reach me,
Herb and I are going to Laguna Beach for a weekend getaway.
Oh, how nice. Taking the baby?
Are you insane? I said "getaway."
Herb's lucky I'm taking him.
I see.
So, uh, so, who's watching little Millie?
My mother.
Ooh. Are we sure that's a good idea?
Okay, first of all, there is no "we" here.
And what are you implying?
I'm implying that there might be better choices for a babysitter
than a woman who has a sandwich named after her
at the Betty Ford Clinic.
She's three years clean and sober,
all the charges were dropped and she's great with Millie.
All right. All right.
I hope you don't mind, but I gave her your number
in case there's an emergency.
I don't mind.
So, uh, how is the baby, anyway?
Fine.
Good, good.
Jake showed me some pictures.
I gotta say, she doesn't look much like you,
and she certainly doesn't look like Herb.
Don't go there, Alan.
Go where? I'm not implying
that someone other than Herb could be the father.
Even though that someone did have unprotected sex with you
approximately nine months before the birth of a child
that looks suspiciously like that someone.
You get that I'm talking about me, right?
Honey, if we want to beat the traffic,
we really should get going. Oh, hey, Alan.
Hey, Herb. Did you hear?
Judith and I are spending a romantic weekend in Laguna.
I said "weekend," Herb. That's all.
Okay, fine, no romance.
But sex is still on the table, right?
Just get in the car.
Oh, can I drive? No.
Why not?!
Is she gone?
(cat screeching) Damn it!
Chelsea, your cat's trying to kill me!
CHELSEA: Is he okay?
The cat's fine!
Probably off plotting his next move... Whoa!
(thudding) Whoa!
Are you okay?
No.
What happened?
Uncle Charlie fell.
Oh.
Can I drive you to the hospital?
* Men, men, men, men, manly men, men, men *
* Men, men, men, men, manly men, men, men * * Ooh
* Men, men, men, men, manly men * * Ooh * Ooh
* Ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ohh, ooh-ooh... *
* Men, men, men, men, manly men, men, men *
* Ooh * Men, men, men, men, manly men, men, men *
* Ah. * Men. * Men.
CHELSEA: Sir Lancelot!
Here, kitty, kitty!
He's probably hiding
because he thinks you're mad at him.
For God's sake, Chelsea,
the cat doesn't think anything except maybe,
"Mmm, fish, I'll eat it."
Or "Ooh, sand, I'll crap in it."
You're wrong.
He's very intelligent and very intuitive.
He knows you resent him living here.
Thank you, Chelsea, but I can defend myself.
I was talking about my cat.
Oh, oh, I'm sorry.
Mmm, fish. Yum.
Okay, I'm going to work.
Feel better.
Thanks.
How's the shoulder?
The shoulder's fine.
I'm just hopin' to get a little "Oh, poor Charlie" tonight.
"Oh, poor Charlie"?
Yeah. You know,
"Oh, poor Charlie.
"I feel bad about your shoulder, so you just lie still
while I provide you with a series of intense orgasms."
Wow.
I don't know what to say, other than "oink."
(engine starting)
Is that a car? Can I drive?
Relax, it's just Chelsea going to work.
Oh.
Uncle Charlie, you need to go anywhere?
Yeah, away from you.
All right. I'll drive you.
You want to drive my $80,000 Mercedes?
Yes, please.
It's good that he's polite.
It's a necessary quality in a doorman.
Was that a "yes" or a "no"?
That was a "no."
So the doorman thing was an insult?
Yes.
Oh.
And a prophecy.
(phone rings)
(alarm blaring) Hello?
No, it's Charlie.
Who's this?
I can't hear you. What?
Alan, it's for you.
Oh.
Hello?
Oh, oh, hi, Lenore.
It's, uh, Judith's mother.
Uh, is that the house alarm?
Uh, is-is the baby okay?
All right, open the little panel by the front door
and enter pound, star and the code.
Pound is the little tic-tac-toe board.
Yeah, like on Hollywood Squares.
She still poppin' the pain pills?
No.
Good. See if she's got any leftovers.
Okay, the code is Jake's birthday.
Your grandson.
Anyway, it's oh-three-one-four--
Oh, no, no, Le-Lenore, don't punch it into the phone.
No, Lenore! Lenore! Lenore!
Okay, okay, okay, calm down, calm down.
I-I'll be right there.
I-I will turn it off for you.
Oh, okay, okay. Bye.
(grunting): I gotta go.
You couldn't be more of a sucker
if you were on the end of a stick.
Why?
Because I'll take any excuse
to spend some time with my baby daughter?
You don't know you're the father, Alan.
Oh, come on.
She's got my jawline, my eyes, my ears.
You left out thinning hair and poopy pants.
That was one time
and I begged you to stop at a gas station.
(alarm blaring) * Men.
(baby crying)
Oh, Alan, thank God you're here.
I pushed all the buttons, but I can't get it to stop.
Well, that might be
because you were adjusting the thermostat.
(alarm stops) Ah, there we go.
Oh, thank God.
(crying continues) Oh, here, let me see
if I can turn this alarm off.
Come here, Millie.
Come to Papa...
* ...was a rolling stone
* Wherever he laid his hat was his home... *
Always sang this to Jake.
Worked like a charm.
(crying continues)
(high-pitched): * And when he died
* All he left us was alone. *
(crying stops)
Huh, look at that.
Well, you're a miracle worker, Alan.
Oh, no.
I just have a knack for babies.
And, uh, and animals.
It's only English-speaking adults that don't like me.
Well, I think you're a wonderful fella.
And if you don't mind my saying,
I think Judith was a fool to let you go.
Well, she didn't so much let me go
as drop me from an airplane with an anvil necklace.
Okay, honey, time to get your beauty rest.
I'm afraid that's gonna have to be a long nap.
I mean, I hate to say it about my own granddaughter,
but let's face it-- with those big ears
she looks a little like a fruit bat.
I think her ears are the perfect size.
You would.
How about some wine?
Uh, uh, well, thank you, but I-I really should get going.
Oh, no, come on, join me.
Just one. We'll catch up.
Uh... Lenore, it's really none of my business,
but do you think you should really be drinking?
What? You mean, because I've been to Betty Ford?
Oh, no, no, uh,
because you got kicked out of Betty Ford.
Hey, Britney bit me first.
Anyway, I was there for pills.
I've never had a problem with alcohol.
Oh.
See?
No problem.
Okay, now,
where did I hide those muscle relaxers
I picked up in Mexico?
That's right.
Between my buttcheeks.
Turn around.
* Men.
Uncle Charlie?
What?
You hungry?
'Cause if you are, we could go get something to eat.
And I'll even drive.
Jake, I'm sleeping.
Okay.
You know, you could nap in the car.
I just gotta have an adult with me.
They don't have to be conscious.
I'm not hungry.
Okay, fine.
Hey, want to go see a movie? 'Cause if you do...
(grunting)
Maybe after your nap.
Oh, crap, now I'm awake.
Great.
You hungry?
* Men.
You're lucky you're single, Alan.
Oh, I don't know.
Oh, no, trust me.
I've been married for 39 years!
Really?
But Judith's 40.
Shh.
Do you know what it's like to wake up every morning,
year after year,
and see the same stupid face lying next to you?
Uh, well, all I can tell you is what I told your daughter.
If you don't like it, roll over.
Fred hasn't touched me in 14 years.
Uh, well, uh, in his defense,
he did have that stroke.
Do you know what happens to a woman's body
when it goes unloved for that long?
Oh, gee, Lenore, I don't really
feel comfortable talking about this...
Oh, now, Alan, come on, we're both grown-ups.
Think about what I'm saying.
All right, well...
I'm getting an image of a...
a cave from an Indiana Jones movie.
What?!
Well, you know-- cobwebs,
dust, human skulls.
This is my vagina we're talking about.
Oh, I am well aware of what we're talking about.
(voice breaking): I've been so lonely.
Oh, oh, I'm...
I'm sorry, Lenore.
Mmm.
A stroke's starting to look pretty good.
* Men.
Can't I at least back it out?
No.
Come on, nothing's gonna happen.
Look, you wanna eat or not?
Fine.
What if we went to an empty parking lot?
Could I drive it then?
Dammit, Jake, how many times I gotta tell...
(cat screeching)
What the hell was that?
I don't know.
Sounds like you ran over a cat.
* Men.
Told you you should've let me drive.
You know, Chelsea's gonna completely freak out.
No, she will not be happy.
Doesn't even look like a cat anymore.
Nope.
More like a cat pancake.
Catcake.
Sorry.
What am I gonna tell her?
She doesn't have to know.
You're right.
She thinks Sir Lancelot's missing, so he stays missing.
Sir Squished-a-lot.
Okay, okay, let's just think what we gotta do.
We have to get rid of the body,
clean up the mess then act like nothing's happened.
Good plan, except...
Except what? Say, "cheese!"
What are you doing?
Making sure I get to drive your car whenever I want to.
What?! Give me that!
Too late, I already emailed it to myself.
You're bluffing.
Perhaps.
But can you really afford to take that chance?
* Men.
* Hush, little baby, don't say a word *
* Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird *
* If that mockingbird don't sing *
Forget it, I'm not sleepy.
Let's go in the hot tub!
Uh, but I don't have a bathing suit.
Me neither.
Come on, stroke.
(phone ringing)
Judith, ugh.
Oh, this just keeps getting better and better.
(baby crying) Oh, hey, look who's up.
Hi, sweetie.
You need a little change?
(sniffs) Oh, yeah.
I'll let you in on a little secret.
Before this day is over,
I might need to change my undies, too.
(cell phone ringtone)
Uh-oh, it's your mommy again.
Shh.
Hello?
Oh, hey, Judith, what's up?
So, how's Laguna?
Laguna's fine.
Um, listen, my mother's not answering the phone
so I need you to go check on her and the baby.
Me?
You, uh, you want me to drive all the way to Sherman Oaks
to check on your mother who you assured me was clean and sober?
(baby crying)
What's that?
Uh, uh, that is the... is the TV that I am watching.
The... Baby Channel.
A... uh, uh... documentary about obese babies.
Tragic.
Okay, listen, I-I will check up on your mother for you
but, uh, you owe me one.
(sing-song): Oh, Alan...
Ta-da!
Not bad.
What's not bad?
Uh, I mean, it's not a bad idea for me to check up on her.
Thank you. Call me when you get there.
(sing-song) Oh, Judith...
Look who mowed the front lawn.
* Men.
So, we're agreed.
We will never speak of this again.
Well, that kind of depends on you, doesn't it?
I've already got the shovel, Jake.
I can dig another hole.
CHELSEA: Charlie, I'm home!
Hi, sweetie, how was work? Okay.
I was a little worried about Sir Lancelot.
Have you seen him?
No, haven't seen him, not a trace.
What about you, Jake?
No, but if I was a cat I'd probably be on the beach.
'Cause, you know, the beach is one big litter box
and the ocean is a giant fish bowl.
Kind of like having a sushi bar in your bathroom.
Wow, how great would that be?
I guess.
I'll still feel better when he comes back.
We all will.
You're quite the little liar, aren't you?
I'm 15. My life depends on it.
Chelsea, Uncle Charlie's gonna take me driving.
Can we bring you back anything?
* Men.
That woman just cut you off!
Learn how to drive, you whore!
Yeah, I'm talking to you!
Lenore, ooh, Lenore... Lenore, Lenore, we should probably keep it down.
We don't want to wake the baby.
What baby?
Oh, right.
Woof.
(cell phone ringtone)
Ugh.
Hello, Judith.
Yeah, I was just about to call you.
Uh, the baby's fine, nothing to worry about.
Hey, Judy, Judy, Judy!
Uh... yeah, yeah, that's her.
Uh-huh, blotto.
Uh, no, no.
No, no need to rush home, everything's under control.
We're in the car, Millie's sleeping in the back seat
and we're heading for Malibu.
Ehab-ray.
Ehab-ray?
You said you were taking me for crabcakes at Gladstone's.
Well, I'm sorry, but you just don't have a choice here.
The hell I don't.
Lenore? Lenore? Lenore!
Red light.
Slow down, slow down, stop!
(brakes screeching)
You're making me really nervous, you know that?
* Men.
(TV playing)
Hey, you mind getting me another grape soda?
Yeah, I mind. Get it yourself.
Fine. I just have to send this jpeg to Chelsea real fast.
(sighing)
Okay, okay.
Look who finally came home!
Who?
Sir Lancelot.
You've been a bad kitty cat.
I've been so worried about you.
Okay, I'm confused.
If that's Sir Lancelot, then what did we squash?
Your hope of ever getting behind the wheel of my car again.
Oh, man.
Leverage is a fickle bitch, my friend.
(doorbell ringing)
CHELSEA: I got it!
Can I help you?
Sorry to bother you. I live down the beach
and I'm looking for my cat.
Oh, I'm sorry. I haven't seen it.
In fact, I just found my little guy.
I'm really worried.
He's black and white, about yay big.
Answers to Puss-Puss.
CHELSEA: I'll keep an eye out for him.
Looks like the fickle bitch is back.