King of the Hill Episode Scripts

The Company Man

1 All right, Bobby.
Why don't you read that Sunday-school report to me like I'm a customer, and you're trying to win my business? Okay.
"The man I admire most is my dad, Hank Hill.
"He sells propane and propane accessories.
" I like it already, son.
You've grabbed my attention, and got me eager for more.
Howdy, Hank! HANK: Mr.
Strickland.
What ya got there, old chap? "The man I most admire, my daddy.
" Oh, you got that right, Bobby.
15 years, I promoted him 15 times, all the way to Assistant Manager.
You should be proud, son.
You're his seed.
"I'm my daddy's seed.
" Hank, I gotta grunt.
Let's take a little meeting in the back.
Bobby, here's the key to the March of Dimes gumball machine.
All you can eat.
Hank, you ever heard of Holloway Hollows? Isn't that that new development that promises: "Country-club living at Price Club prices"? Yeah, that's the one.
They're gonna need a propane supplier.
Holloway himself has come down here from Boston to check us out.
This one is big, Hank.
Here's your sales kit.
- Rental-car keys? - Big old Caddy! Yankees eat that stuff up like a baby at his mama's malt shop.
What the heck is this? That's one of them new counterfeit-proof Benny Franklin hundred-dollar bills.
Sir, this is Hank Hill you're talking to.
I'm not gonna need all that James Bond stuff to make the deal.
Well, Hank, I don't want to sneeze during your backswing.
But we got some competition.
M.
F.
Thatherton.
Thatherton? Sorry to call a meeting in the skunk works, boys.
Now, I promise not to make a habit of it.
Boy, Thatherton, those are some pretty tough sales quotas, I tell you what.
You wanna meet the quota? Take some propane to an old-age home.
Tell them it's oxygen.
You can't do that to old people.
Aren't you the company man! You see, that's the difference between us.
You're a worker bee - and I'm a queen.
- Say, huh? I'm going out on my own.
Thatherton Fuels.
I already signed Strickland's top three accounts.
Well, you've got one heck of a nerve.
Plotting against a man while his seat's still warm! Take a good look around, Hank, 'cause you ain't going nowhere.
That's where you're wrong.
You can count on me, sir.
I appreciate your vote of confidence, and I just want to Hank? A little privacy, do you mind? Look at this! It's long! It's like It's so It's big.
Look at the size of old Ben Franklin's head.
He truly was the Homely Genius.
Well, take a good look.
'Cause it's going back to Strickland on Monday.
Aren't you supposed to spend it on your big client? When have I ever needed a three-figure entertainment budget to sell propane? I'm gonna close this deal the same way I always do.
A cup of coffee, a slice of pie and a handshake.
And if I hit a snag, pie à la mode.
Would you stop that? That horn is for highway emergency use only! And you two, get off! I've gotta return this pimpmobile in the same condition.
Why you have silly cow car, Hank? Hank's entertaining a business prospect from the East, Mr.
Kahn.
Oh, I see, Hank suck up to make sale.
Kahn, I have never had to suck up to make a sale, and I never will.
What do you suppose the Holloways look like? You know those Boston types.
Probably small, pale, and wearing penny loafers.
- Put 'er there, partner! - Mr.
Holloway? Is a prom dress tight after a six-pack? Which way to your Cadillac? This one is in the bag.
How'd you like to freshen up with a nice hot towel? And here's one for you.
Dang, these are Texas-size hot towels! You know, Peggy heated these towels on our propane-powered Hotpoint range.
Did a great job, I'll tell you what.
"I'll tell you what.
" I like that.
I'm gonna say it while I'm here.
Well, I'd like to tell you what Strickland can do to meet your energy needs.
You see, at Strickland, the customer comes first.
It's kinda interesting, the word "customer" begins with "C.
U.
" Well, we don't "see you" as just another sale but as a member of our team.
Pie.
- Do you like pie? - I do! They got the best pie in town here, Mr.
Holloway.
And it's cooked with Strickland propane, too.
Hey, look! There's a real old Texas jukebox.
Just like in The Last Picture Show! What'll you have, Hank? Salesman special? Yes, ma'am.
Three slices of pecan pie and two cups of coffee.
- And three scoops of ice cream.
- Now, hold on, son.
Let me let you in on a little salesman trick.
Don't start off with ice cream right away.
'Cause if you run into a hitch, you got no place to go.
What kind of Texas jukebox is that, for crying out loud? It doesn't even have the theme from Dallas.
Mr.
Holloway, I won't beat around the bush.
There's 14 reasons to go with Strickland Propane.
14 very compelling reasons.
J.
R.
, J.
R.
, he's a really bad guy who lives on a ranch with his mom Say, I'm gonna call you "J.
R.
" From now on! Well, howdy, Hank.
Ain't you gonna introduce me to your golden-throated friend, here? Sure, I'll introduce you.
Mr.
Holloway this is the only man ever censured by the Texas Propane Association for lewdness and conduct unbecoming a propane salesman.
M.
F.
Thatherton.
Thatherton Fuels.
Dang glad to meet you, M.
F.
- The M.
F.
Stands for - "My friend"! 'Cause at Thatherton Fuels, we're everybody's friend.
And we want to be your friend, too, Mr.
Holloway.
Who's this, Hank? Your district sales manager? I'm his son, Bobby.
I'm waiting for my pie.
I can see you get your sense of humor from your daddy.
He gets his sense of humor from both his parents, thank you very much.
Pleasure meeting you, Holloway.
I'll let old Hank get on with his "14 reasons" speech.
Bobby, you can tell your Sunday-school class that you met a real Texan today, M.
F.
Thatherton.
Jo Tiffany, you better make that pie à la mode.
Under your very feet, Mr.
Holloway is what's called the propane crossroads.
It's the only place in the world you can straddle the East and West pipelines.
You want Texas, Mr.
Holloway? This is Texas.
Where are the oil wells? Where are the rattlers? J.
R.
, I want to buy a six-shooter.
Careful now, this Frito pie is spicy, spicy, spicy.
Oh.
Oh.
Mmm.
That's yummy.
Yes, it's wonderful.
But, Peggy, you shouldn't make such a fuss over me.
I just want you to be yourself while I'm here.
That is the only gal I know how to be.
I told you nicely to buy me a gun.
Well, I know it's always fun to take home a keepsake but your time is so valuable.
Look at all this nothing! What's the suicide rate out here? Do you mean right here? 'Cause this is where Holloway Hollows is going up.
Something's wrong.
Yeah, it's the darn unions.
Come on, boys finish up them Little Debbies and get back to work.
No, no.
Something's wrong with you.
- Where's your cowboy boots? - I don't have cowboy boots.
You know, Mr.
Holloway, Texas has changed a lot since the 1850s.
Jeez.
I just wanted to see some boots or spurs, or anything.
I come all the way from Boston to see Texas.
And you don't have real boots, or guns, or nothing.
Thatherton! You know, Mr.
Holloway, I once had a pair of boots.
And And then, one day, my Uncle Fess lost his in a tornado.
- Oh, you mean a twister? - Yep.
A big Texas-sized twister, I tell you what.
Well, that dang twister sucked his boots plumb off.
Well, you can't bury a man in his stocking feet.
It's the Cowboy Code.
So I gave him my boots.
And that's the story of what happened to my boots.
This is great, J.
R! I always thought you were afraid to wear boots 'cause your toes are fat.
In the summer of 1953 something that I treasure happened right there in that pink house.
What, Peggy? The noted poet Ogden Nash wrote his poem, The Cow.
"The cow is of the bovine ilk "One end is moo, the other, milk" Sir I don't really recommend a cowboy boot for a chubby-toed customer like yourself.
You might want to try a Birkenstock sandal.
Shut the hell up.
- Here's your spurs, J.
R! - I helped pick 'em out.
Well, that sure would complete the outfit.
But I don't want to scar the carpet.
Who cares about the carpet? You hurt my feelings.
You know what else he needs? A hat.
Yeah.
Yeah! A big old cowboy hat! I want to see Texas with a guy in a big cowboy hat like mine! I'm not wearing a dumb hat! I thought you were a real Texan, like that Thatherton fellow from the coffee shop.
I'm only not wearing the hat because of my solemn vow I made to President Lyndon Baines Johnson on the occasion of the birth of his daughter, Lynda Bird.
Lyndon Johnson killed our Kennedy.
And this! Hey, man! Look at that rhinestone cowboy, man! Oh, Lord.
Not now! Look, J.
R.
, an Injun! And a hillbilly! Hey, man! You might wanna call Dr.
Scholl's, man, 911! Y'all look like that dang old Hoss Cartwright with that old crap, man, yo.
Toe cramp! Toe cramp! Hurry! All right.
What is going on, Hank? The way Bobby tells it, you bought my freedom from the Comanches with your rodeo winnings? And you were worth every penny.
Look, Peggy, being a salesman is a little like being an actor.
I'm just playing a role, you know like that fella at the dinner theater you liked so much.
This is not Camelot, and you are not Jason Alexander.
You're not wearing that to dinner, are you? What? You don't like it? I got this pantsuit special for tonight.
It's from Frumpy's.
Yeah.
Don't you still have that bridesmaid outfit you wore to one of Luanne's mama's weddings? Oh, here! You know, I'd forgotten just how pretty this is.
Hey, Dad? I was going over the stuff you told Mr.
Holloway.
How could Mom get pregnant with me if you spent the '80s in a Mexican POW camp? Look, Bobby, some of that stuff The details aren't so important.
I gotta get my facts straight, Dad! There's a Q and A after my speech tomorrow.
And these Sunday-school kids are tough! I'll help you, son.
I promise.
When I get home tonight, we'll sit down and go over anything you might have taken out of context.
Oh, I am so sorry Mrs.
Holloway didn't feel well enough to join us.
Maybe what she ate on the plane didn't agree with her.
Hi, Mrs.
Holloway.
Want some cold Frito pie? She'll be fine.
Besides, every man needs to be cut from his ball and chain, now and again.
Ain't that right, J.
R? Mr.
Hill, your table is ready.
The 4-top at 39 needs more iced tea, hon.
86, the jalapeño corn bread.
Howdy, partners.
Welcome to the Panhandler.
Home of the world's longest salad bar, and second-longest sneezeguard.
Would you cowboys care to take on our 72-ounce Lonestar Steak? - Finish it and it's free.
- How much if you can't finish it? Well, sir, like my daddy always said: "If you have to ask, you can't afford it.
" That's what I'm having.
Lord, no, Mr.
Holloway! You're gonna fill up on free stuff.
Hey, Roy Rogers, Halloween was last year.
Mr.
Holloway, these are my neighbors, Dale and Nancy Gribble.
Mr.
Holloway came all the way from Boston.
Yeah, I know the place.
That's in Tax-achusetts, ain't it? Say hello to Willie Horton for me when you get home.
He's teaching at your kindergarten.
I'm sorry, Mr.
Gribble.
But a cowboy don't talk politics at the chow wagon.
Happy trails.
I haven't got my croutons yet.
Oh, stick a fork in me.
I'm done.
- No! You're not.
- Give me a quarter, J.
R.
I'm gonna go test my grip.
I thought so.
You've got something right there on your back, honey.
- What? - Footprints.
Break time's over, darling.
The kitchen's backed up.
I have had just about all I can swallow.
How about you, "J.
R.
"? Peggy, I'm making progress here.
I can always tell when a customer's ready for the close.
Mr.
Thatherton, your table is ready.
Thatherton! And his table is ready! I gotta go! J.
R.
, my friend Thatherton is taking me to that club where all the waitresses are former Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders.
Too late, Thatherton.
If anyone's taking Holloway to a gentleman's club, it's me! Well, then I'll see you over there, then.
I like that guy.
- Holloway, don't move a muscle.
- Get me some protection, too! The man I admire most is my dad, Hank Hill.
Okay, have fun, boys.
I thought you might be mad.
'Cause I was suppose to help Bobby, and instead we're going to Jug Store Cowboys as part of my work-required sales excursion.
That, as I said, keeps you in pretty dresses like that one.
Get out.
Peggy, could you loan me $50 ought to cover it.
And can I have ones, you know for the G-strings? How versatile is propane? Well, propane will do everything that natural gas will do, and more.
Please, ma'am! I'm trying to carry on a conversation! Yeah, yeah, I see your rear, very nice.
Okay, there's some people over there that want to look, too.
Now, how about it, Mr.
Holloway? Will you say yes to Strickland Propane? - Buy me a mint julep.
- Heck, that's not a Texas drink.
You can't even keep your stereotypes straight.
Hey, come on, buy me a mint julep.
Then I'll talk to you about propane.
Mint julep, please.
- Mint julep? - It's not for me.
I got a Yankee client.
- He make you wear that hat? - Yep.
Oh, honey, I know exactly how you feel.
Every night, my boss makes me put on this humiliating outfit to seduce some drunk out of his money.
We're a lot alike.
Why do we do it Chiffon? We do it for the money, cowboy.
I never made six figures a year at the Potato Hut.
- Six figures? - Oh, yeah.
Soon, I'll have enough to stay home with my granddaughter and her baby.
I should be home, too helping my boy with his Sunday-school report.
Hey, how about a lap dance? - Honey, what are you still doing up? - I don't get it.
How could he have fought in the Spanish-American War the same year he invented the world's first pressure-cooking chicken fryer? Oh, Bobby, your father never fought in any war.
Oh, I know.
I've given up on Dad.
The man I most admire now is Col.
Sanders.
Here's your julep, Holloway.
Let's talk propane.
You call this a mint julep? Where's the vodka? Where's the tomato juice? Maybe I ought to let Thatherton buy my drinks from now on.
I tell you what! Mister, I'll tell you what! I don't want your business! Not this way! You wanna go with Thatherton? Go! But one of these days, when your propane mixture's only 89 percent and you have a smelly condo development full of crying babies whose bottles haven't been properly heated you give me a call.
My name is Hank Hill.
And I sell propane and propane accessories with honor and dignity! Them's fighting words, J.
R.
This isn't a John Wayne movie, Holloway! - I'm not gonna fight you.
- I'll fight you, pilgrim! Yee-haw! He doesn't have an oil well.
He doesn't own a Cadillac.
And he doesn't wear cowboy boots, because he's not a cowboy.
And on account of they squish his toes.
But the man I admire most is a real Texan.
He is my daddy, Hank Hill.
That's my boy! Yeah! Thank you.
Thank you.
And I want to thank my dad specially for accepting me and raising me as his own even though I was fathered by another man while Mr.
Hank Hill was in a Mexican POW Camp.
Thank you.