18 to Life s01e04 Episode Script

Well, that was fun.
Too bad nobody told us|the movie was rated suck.
OK, so I picked the wrong movie.
At least the dog was cute.
The dog died halfway through.
Lucky bastard.
Oh look, Carter.
|The newlyweds are quarrelling.
At least it's more entertaining than|"Chuck and Chloe".
Yeah, tell me about it.
"Jessie and Tom" could be this generation's|"When Harry Met Sally".
Uh, "Tom and Jessie".
Whatever.
You said "Jessie and Tom.
" But you know, when you talk about couples,|typically the guy's listed first.
That's not true.
Yeah, it is.
Look at|all the great couples.
Sid and Nancy.
Brad and Angelina.
|Batman and Robin.
Well, that's not how|things fell with you, dude.
Oh, Ava sits up front.
But she doesn't know the|way to the rib place.
Oh, didn't we tell you?|We're doing sushi.
What? No, Tom said we were going|to Lester's House of Ribs.
I brought my own wetnaps.
My car, my call.
Our car.
Or did you forget|that I paid for half? Yeah, but I'm the one with the|driver's license, sweetie.
Which, when you think about it,|puts me in the driver's seat.
At least Robin had a say|in dinner once in a while.
To the Sushi Cave, Batman! * * * Can't we find a way that we|could be together? * * Is there any way that we|could be together? * * And oh by the way , baby,|do you love me? * * Yes, I do! Yes,|I do! Yes, I do! * * * I need six hundred bucks.
"Good morning" works too.
It's for school.
School for con artists? Money's a bit tight right now.
I promise I will pay|you back in full.
OK.
It's for driving lessons.
Oh for heaven's sake.
I told you Tom,|driving lessons are a sham, like recycling and|universal healthcare.
Let me teach you.
After what happened last time? Rear-view! Driver's side!|Passenger! Rear! Driver's! But the manual says check your|mirrors every ten seconds.
Death travels faster|than that, son.
Rear view! Driver's side!|Rear view! Actually, I meant the other|thing that happened last time.
Oh for heaven's sakes,|are you still going on about that? Come on, son.
Buck up; get over it.
Or do you want your wife to|chauffeur you around forever? When you put it that way,|it doesn't sound so bad.
A license puts you in the driver's|seat in more ways than one.
It's the kind of thing that keeps|a man like me in charge, OK? Feet off the table.
Sorry, honey.
The point is, you can't let one|incident affect the rest of your life.
You gotta face the problem head on.
Why do you think I'm|hitting you up for cash? Well, I'm not paying for|something I can do better myself.
That's what you said|about the plumbing.
I haven't had a hot|shower in 97 days.
Cold showers build character.
How do we want our news? "love to hate" or|"preaching to the choir"? Can you put on 22? I want to|check the score of the game.
OK, let's go with "love to hate".
Honey, the score? But I need my daily dose|of anger and outrage.
How come you always end|up with the remote? Cause your hands get|too greasy, honey.
Ooh, I hate this guy! Perfect.
They still make porn in hard copy? I'm studying for a history exam.
Then why the driving manual? It's for History of the Car.
Oh my God.
You are not letting|your father teach you to drive.
First of all, how do you do that? And second, I don't really|have any other choice.
Actually, you do.
I can teach you.
It'll be like that time I|taught you to ride a bike.
Minus the tears.
I don't need your help, Jess.
Is this about what I|said about my car? Our car! It was my|cousin who sold it to us, so if anything it's|more mine than yours.
I know we went halvers on Putzie.
And that's another thing.
Real men don't name their cars after|supporting characters from "Grease".
In fact, real men|don't name their cars.
What's gotten into you? I'm only offering to|teach you to drive.
I've got it, Jess.
What are we hiding this time? Nothing, actually.
It's just reflexes.
What's that? Ah, it's a present for your mom.
It's called a "Uni-Click",|a universal remote so complicated only I will be able to control it.
What is it with men and control? Trouble in Tom-town? He's letting Ben|teach him to drive.
Ben, as in turns-lawyers-into-|quivering-babies Ben.
Well? Everyone has an upside.
You're missing the point.
|Why can't he just turn to me? Maybe he's embarrassed that he needs|a girl to help him with guy stuff.
This is the 21st Century.
You have to admitt, your driver's license|does give you more pull in this marriage.
So I'm supposed to give|him the upper hand? No, sweetie.
The trick is you make him think he has the|upper hand, while you subtly control him.
Remotely.
I remember this one time I wanted|to play poker with the boys.
Your mother and I were painting the kitchen|that day so I said I wanted a different|colour.
Bermuda teal.
Or was it barracuda? Since when do you|care about ambiance? Since I realized I need to bring|something to the negotiating table.
In the end, I got my poker game.
All because I let her "win one".
And why not just|be honest with Mom? You have to handle this|control stuff with kid gloves.
You have no idea what lengths|some people will go to.
We're not moving.
I see that.
What do you think the|problem might be? Clutch? No.
You're on the clutch.
How about the hand brake? Hm? My colour-coded system, remember? Yeah, yup.
Right.
TIRES SCREECH) Well, good.
Good first try.
I appreciate you being so patient.
No, no.
We've grown a lot over these|last few years, you and I, huh? Do you smell that!?|< /i> That burning The smell of a transmission|pleading for its life! I can't change gears when|you're yelling at me! I'm not yelling! HAND BRAKE! HAND BRAKE! Oh, for the love of God! Had you consulted my|colour-coded system-- Oh, your colour-coded|system makes no sense! The air vent is the same|colour as the hand brake! Oh, that's it; that's it.
|Walk away.
I guess you have no interest in getting over|that time you slammed into the -- Hey.
We said we would|never mention that.
And I wouldn't have slammed into|anything if you hadn't been yelling! Where you going?|You gonna run home to wifey? No! I don't need her;|don't need you.
OK? There's lots of people|who could teach me.
We don't believe in fostering|a new generation of drivers.
I'd sooner shotgun Drano.
What am I, your dad? Just got a DUI.
Again.
My license is only valid in|crude-oil-based economies.
I'm twelve.
Look at you; staring at the|steering wheel all psychotic-like.
I'm glad my pain so amuses.
What's going on, Tom? Why is this car|thing such an issue? You wouldn't understand.
I'm your wife.
Try me.
When my dad taught me how to drive,|there was an incident.
You ran over your mother? Worse.
Is a 25-foot pole not big enough?|I know what I'll do! I'll call the city and I'll have them|install 50-foot poles and maybe you'll see|that! Oh, I know what it was.
You were trying to go through the|hydrant and the pole! And you missed.
I crashed into the pole outside|Cindy McLaren's house.
I had such a big crush on her,|you know, all that red hair.
It's a dye job.
All her friends were there and|pointing and laughing.
It was the most humiliating|moment of my life.
Well, whatever complex you may have,|I'll help you through it.
I can't.
I can't.
I need more time.
No.
You need more space.
Why not Siberia?|It'd be less desolate.
This is where my dad taught me.
To stash bodies? Shut up and get in.
* Easy there, Earnhardt.
Clutch down and into first.
Slow, OK? There.
Gentlemen, start your engines! Twelfth time's the charm.
Gentlemen, start your engines.
Good! Whoa.
OK.
Good.
Go to the left.
Yeah! Yee ha! Not bad.
Thank you.
Eh? I believe that's called a U-turn.
Over that way, maybe the left.
I am Man! Man of Car! I am late! Late of class! But tonight we'll celebrate|your driving thing by eating greasy meat products|with our fingers.
Hey, why don't I pick up those|ribs you like from Lester's? I have never loved you|more than right now.
No, wait, scratch that.
|I have yoga tonight.
Can you pick up falafels instead? Falafels are for girly-boys.
|I'll pick up the ribs.
Yes, But you can't|drive yet, sweetie.
Let's stick with the falafels,|they're within walking distance.
Love you! Love you.
* Moron! Just gonna back her up.
OK.
Tom? Relax.
You can figure this out.
Well, I guess you'll|have to tell her.
I may as well have myself neutered.
I'm sorry, man; I got nothing.
Wait.
Something's coming.
Hold on; don't talk.
Here it is! Yes! Dead simple.
This way she won't see it.
Great.
You've bought me all|of twenty seconds.
Yeah, and you say I never|do anything for you.
How do I get back|to the last channel? Bottom left.
No, it says zoom.
That when you're in "movie mode".
|You're in "TV mode", babe.
OK, So how do I go|to favourites then? Just press mute.
OK.
Then what is mute? Mute is now menu, unless you're in "music|mode", in which case it becomes skip|forward.
OK.
You know what? You do it.
Are you sure? Yeah, if your hands|aren't too greasy.
You'll get used to it.
Everything's been custom-designed|for easy thumb access pending what system we're using.
Watch me find favourites|without even looking.
Although I only had time|to program one channel.
But it's sports.
Huh.
So it is.
Jessie, there's|something I need to-- Whatever it is it can wait.
|My prof kept me after class and and I'm late for yoga|and I totally forgot my mat.
I'm taking the car.
|Please Tivo Idol.
I'll be back at ten.
* OK, just tell her the truth;|she'll understand.
Idiot parking attendant.
"Look at me, I watch cars,|I have a uniform.
" How could he not see this happen?|Too busy writing his screenplay? What's going on? This is what's going on! Oh.
I've been meaning|to tell you.
See -- Wait, parking attendant? If you can call him that.
I can't believe this guy gets paid.
|Look at our car! So this happened at yoga? Where else would|this have happened? Some people are so careless.
I'm gonna make it all better.
I'm gonna get you those|falafels you wanted.
OK.
Mm, looks delicious.
* A little higher, honey.
* You're the best! * * So how long are you gonna|let this go on for? Until he admits he crashed my|car and then lied about it.
Meanwhile, you're milking him for all|the backrubs and falafels you can get? Is that bad? Actually, no.
There's nothing wrong with|a little manipulation.
I remember this one time|your father and I had a fight over what colour to|paint the kitchen.
I wanted Cabana Green;|he wanted Bermuda Teal.
I needed something for|the negotiating table.
Oh, really? Yeah.
So I made him think that I didn't|want him playing poker that night, even though I was dying|for some alone time.
In the end, I got my Cabana Green.
All because I let him "win one".
Devious.
No.
Necessary.
You want control? You have to be smart about it.
Like the way dad|controls the remote? Like the way he thinks|he controls the remote.
Check it out, honey.
I just PVR'ed you the Eco-channel marathon,|the Naomi Klein documentary, and every episode of|The Nature of Things.
And you thought I couldn't handle|your viewing schedule, huh? You're the man.
God, I rock.
OK, so Jessie knows that you're|the one who smashed the car.
But she made up this whole story|about this parking lot attendant to make you think that she|thinks that it was someone else, thereby increasing your guilt.
Why would she do that? She's playing you, man.
What? She is not.
Oh really? Look at you: making her dinner,|washing her car, doing her shopping.
Jessie's not the game-playing type.
You're way off base.
Am I? Just think about it, man.
Look, she knew that you|were gonna get this license.
She needed a counter-balance.
I'm getting the groceries|because she's busy at school.
And for the record,|I buy what I want.
See? Boom.
Jessie prefers Whole Grain Kamut.
* Oh, man.
I am so whipped.
OK.
You don't nip this in the butt,|she's gonna stop respecting you.
It's bud.
I think it's "butt", OK? Thanks.
Look, the point is that girls|secretly want their men in control.
* I thought I asked for Kamut.
Change of plans.
Since Putzie's going|to the shop and we're cabbing it, I just realized all the cab money|comes from my job at the Juice Bar.
So? So you've got no cash-flow,|sweetie.
Which, if you think about it,|puts me in the driver's seat.
Have you been sniffing car wax? I've arranged the chores by colour,|tried to divvy them up fairly.
Oh my God.
You've co-opted Ben's|colour-coded training system.
Somebody's gotta take the reins.
How can you "take the reins"|when you don't even have the lugnuts to admit you trashed my car! Ah! So you admit you|were playing me! I was protecting you! I didn't want you to freak out! Why would I freak out? You've been so sensitive lately,|not asking me for help.
And that story about Cindy McLaren.
I can't believe I|ever told you that.
And I can't believe I|married such a girl.
It was better when I thought|you were playing me.
Don't ask.
Did you and Jessie have a fight? Oh, come on, Tom.
|It's kinda obvious.
We Bellows have a tendency to|clean during moments of tension.
Is that why our house|is always so spotless? This is about you, Tom.
And for what it's worth, I say you should|have paid attention to your father's codes.
If you say "colour" and "coded"|in close proximity, I'm going to scream.
Still blaming your father? His system made me dizzy.
|He wouldn't stop yelling at me.
Whatever you say, honey.
What do you mean? When you crashed in front|of that girl's house, why do you think your father told|everyone he got dinged at the mall? For insurance purposes? Besides that.
He was toying with me.
Try covering for you.
But it was his fault.
Wasn't it? I think you missed a spot.
* Dad? Hey! Heh heh.
Since when is your|poker game back on? Since I realized your mother|was controlling the TV again.
I figured why not capitalize,|bring back poker night? Come on, Phil.
Something you wanted to ask me? I think I just figured it out.
Bye.
OK, fellas.
Ante up.
Damn birds.
How come they never|defecate on their own property? I didn't crash out front of Cindy McLaren's|house because you were yelling at me, did I? No.
You were trying to|look cool for some girl.
And did a bang-up job, so to speak.
And you let me? I did more than "let you".
I ducked down in the seat beside you|like you asked me to as you whizzed past.
And then I slammed into the pole.
Mm hm.
Why did you let me off? Well? I figured your ego got|kicked around enough that day.
Plus, I know that men can do stupid|things when it comes to women.
I always remember growing my hair|long once for a certain Melanie Simms.
Most awkward twelve|days of my life.
The things we do for our gals.
Mm hm.
Gals of the past.
And present.
* I see you found my|girly-man hideout.
Grab an herbal tea,|we're about to watch "The Notebook".
My parents think deception|is good for a marriage.
We're in pretty good shape then.
If something's going on Tom,|I want to hear it.
I know I'm an idiot, but most guys my age|are stuck at wedgies and penis jokes.
You told a penis joke at breakfast.
But it was wedgie-free, right? So I'm a little insecure.
But you deserve like, a rock star|or a lawyer or you know a man.
Is is that stubble? You always know what to say.
You know what would|really prove your manhood? Doing it cowboy style.
It's called the "Texas Peel-out".
My uncle taught it to me.
You pump the gas while keeping the|brake on and then you just let 'er rip! Are you sure about this? Yeah! As long as your folks are out,|no one will be the wiser.
We need more room|though so back 'er up! * OK! Eyes on the road! You ready? Ready! Here we go! YEE-HAW! Well? Look at the bright side.
Matching dents, front and back.
Plus now the Putzie's a write-off,|that's one more car off the road.
Pedal power.
Way of the future.
* Nicely done there, Crash.
This isn't funny, Dad.
|I really can't afford this right now.
Don't worry about it, son.
|I've got it covered.
What? You're gonna pay for it? No, no, no, no.
But I can help you get your|savings in order.
Listen.
Have you ever heard|about my colour-coded