Married with Children s10e13 Episode Script
I Can't Believe It's Butter
Family-- And I use that term with great embarrassment.
--it is now time to unveil the contents of the Bundy family Christmas club.
Oh, Dad.
You got a festive green one this year.
Usually you just use one of your old white socks.
Honey, that is one of his white socks.
See how it matches his teeth.
Thank you, Rudolf the Redhead Couch Wit.
Anyway, once a year the working members of the Bundy family, namely me put aside a small percentage of his paycheque-- Namely nothing.
--and at the end of the year, opens it up to buy Christmas presents.
Namely garbage.
Dad, why do we go through this pathetic charade every year? You know Mom's jimmied the lock and spent all the money on herself.
I didn't spend one penny on myself this year.
Hey, maybe, we will get some presents.
Then why is there nothing but receipts in here, Peg? Well, those aren't from me.
That's just stuff Mom needed.
Five hundred dollars for JJ's House of Strudel.
Two hundred dollars for a heavy-duty Buttmaster.
Everybody knows that strudel goes straight to the butt.
- There goes your Christmas gift, Peg.
- What about us? Oh, this doesn't affect your gift, pumpkin.
Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas.
I ought to give you one of these for Christmas.
Come on, Kel.
Let's go.
We'll have to raise our own money for Christmas presents.
You know what this means, right? Yeah.
The shell-shocked vet and the blind-girl routine.
That's right.
And this year don't sit there reading People magazine, all right.
I was not reading it.
I was looking at the pictures, okay? Your mother's eating us out of house and home.
I don't expect her to pull her weight.
That would be impossible.
But she's got to get a job.
She's a Wanker woman.
She's not used to working.
I will only put up with one worthless Wanker woman in this house at a time.
Either she gets a job or you do.
Mom, we gotta talk! Excuse me.
Do you have any pumps in my size? Yes, I do, but the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Shoes would not allow me to sell them to you.
Well, I hope you get coal in your stocking on Christmas morning.
And I hope you get Slim-Fast in yours.
Now, we're about to have our Christmas party.
So would you mind eggnogging on out? - Happy Holidays.
- Merry Christmas.
Hey, guys, sorry I'm late.
I had to ditch Marcie down at the employment office.
God, what a depressing place.
All those people out of work, huh? No.
All those people looking for work.
Have they no pride? I'll tell you, if Marcie is so dead set on a two-income family let her get a night job.
Yeah.
Jefferson, you don't really mean that about Marcie, do you? As sure as I'm skimming money off her mutual funds.
Oh, I'll tell you, it will be a cold day in hell when my paycheque-in-heels outsmarts me.
Well, then, prepare to make snow angels with the Prince of Darkness.
Marcie? Marcie! I can't believe you followed me here from the employment office? - Look, Jefferson-- - Oh, no, no, no.
Don't apologize.
The damage is done.
Look, Marcie, if I can't trust you not to follow me how can I ever trust you as a reference on a job application? Well, I already got you a job playing life-sized Ken in the Barbie Christmas window at Marshall Field's.
Okay, but don't blame me, Marcie, if your sick obsession with work drives me into the arms of a life-sized Barbie.
Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas! Well, now that the wives and deadbeats are gone let's start this Christmas party.
Yeah! Yeah! The tree is trimmed, the halls are decked and Ike has dawned his gay apparel.
Take that back, you glorified night watchman.
Gentlemen, focus.
There'll be no brawling here.
This is a Christmas party, not a wedding.
Besides, we can't start until Griff gets here from his new part-time job.
Okay, kid, if you let go of my leg I'll bring you a pony on Christmas morning.
Excuse me.
Why did you say that? I specifically told you he couldn't have one.
And I specifically told you tips were encouraged.
Come on, Bobby.
The real Santa's at Kmart.
- Merry Christmas! - Happy holidays! Merry stinking Christmas.
Hey, Griff, where's your Christmas spirit? My ex-wife got it in the divorce settlement.
Along with the house, the car and my entire collection of Pam Grier movies.
I knew you were feeling lonely the last couple of weeks.
That's why I got you this for Christmas.
"1 -900-YUMMY"? "The bearer of this card is entitled to 20 minutes of yuletide phone sex.
" - Al, you shouldn't have.
- Hey, it didn't cost me anything.
I just cashed in my frequent hooter miles at the nudie bar.
Al, meaningless, no-strings-attached sex is the last thing I want right now.
That's the only thing I've ever wanted.
- Oh, wait! - Let me have it.
Hey, Ike, give me that thing back.
Come on, Ike! Hey, Ike! Ike! Ike! Don't be selfish.
Put it on the speakerphone.
Hello, you're cooking with Butter.
Hey, Butter, this is Hot Pants.
Oh, Hot Pants.
Why don't you come closer and melt little old Butter.
Hold on.
I got to think about baseball.
Hey, hey, Butter.
This is Double-O-Shoe.
Listen, forget Hot Pants.
You need to talk to my good friend-- - Butcher Boy.
- Psycho Cop.
Not you, you potbellied porkers.
Al.
Hi, Butter.
This is Shoehorn O'Plenty.
- Thanks for the ride home, Griff.
- Don't mention it.
Hey, I'm a Dodge man through and through but that Geo Metro of yours is a lot easier to push up that hill.
Yeah, but if you want a car that will just rust away on the front lawn nothing beats your Dodge.
You got that right.
I'll give you that beer I promised.
There's nobody home.
Beer? I'll come down and join you.
Except my mother-in-law, the Budweiser Clydesdale.
Al, I got to go anyhow, Al.
I promised Butter I'd call her at 6.
You wouldn't want to leave a phone-sex operator waiting by the phone.
Wait a minute, Al.
Butter is more than just a $1 .
99 a minute.
She's a real good listener who really understands me.
And, boy, can she talk dirty.
Well, I still better go.
I got a long push home.
All right, take it easy, buddy.
Merry Christmas.
You're cooking with Butter.
Oh, no.
More.
Come on.
You know, this is fantastic.
I can't believe Grandma bought us these presents and this beautiful dinner.
It's like she's an older married man or something.
You know, Peg, who would've thought that your mom's 1 -900 number would have bought us our first real Christmas? You know, for a Bigfoot, your mom's okay.
Oh, Al, let's invite her down for Christmas dinner.
What, are you nuts? Don't you know that the holidays are the busiest phone-sex time of all.
Daddy, aren't you feeling just a little guilty that most of the money that paid for this food came from your NO MA'AM friends? Guilty, no.
Hungry, yes.
What I mean is, is that don't you think you should tell them that Butter is really Grandma? Pumpkin, unlike marriage, phone sex is a victimless crime.
Why spoil the good time of my dear friends and derail our gravy train at the same time? Speaking of which, Peg, would you pop open another can of gravy, please? Attagirl.
Dad's right.
What they don't know, won't hurt them.
Besides, when you dial those 900 numbers, all you really care about is-- Getting your money back for dialing the wrong number.
Who could that be? Maybe one of the neighbors found out we had food.
Eat fast.
All right, I'll get it.
Just pretend like nothing's happened.
Shut up, now! Coming.
- Hey, Al.
- Hey, Griff, how you doing? So you're having another imaginary Christmas dinner? Yeah, well, it keeps them happy, you know.
Thanks for stopping by, buddy.
Wait a minute.
Wait a minute.
I need your advice.
You know, I've been talking to Butter a lot lately.
Al, she is more than just phone sex.
She is a beautiful human being.
I never thought I'd say this again: I think I'm in love.
I think I'm about to blow gravy.
Al, I want to ask her to spend the holidays with me.
Family meeting.
Al, what are we gonna do? If Griff finds out that Grandma is Butter then he and the guys will stop calling and we'll have to go back to living on your income.
I hate him.
He's the Griff who stole Christmas.
- I'll kill this sucker first.
- No! No! No one kills anybody here.
Come here.
I got a plan.
I want you two to get some candy canes and lure Grandma out of her room.
All of her, Dad? Even the dark, mossy side? Yes.
Will you just go do it? Peg, I want you to go upstairs and talk dirty.
Oh, Al.
You mean like this? Thank you, Peg.
The one meal I've had in months and I won't be able to keep it down.
You said to talk dirty.
Not to me, you candied yam.
To Griff.
I want you to go upstairs.
When the phone rings, I want you to answer it.
Pretend you're Butter.
Then I want you to tell him that your love can never be.
Well, what are you gonna do? I'm gonna soften him up with our finest liquid refreshment.
The man has gravy.
Not just for breakfast anymore.
Al, what if Butter won't go out with me? What will I do? - Not call her anymore? - Nope.
Call her often, and call her at peak hours and talk for a long, long time.
But never ask to meet her.
Okay, Al.
This may be just the gravy talking, but I trust your judgment.
Here goes.
Merry Christmas.
You're cooking with Butter.
Merry Christmas, Butter baby.
This is Shoehorn O'Plenty.
You sound a little different tonight, Butter.
What, you got a little cold? Well, I did.
But I'm warming up now.
Look, Butter, I know I've asked you this before but this time I really have to know.
What do you look like? Al, I am really uncomfortable with this.
I don't think I can go through with it.
Peg, Peg, Peg.
Just do what we do when we have sex.
Pretend we're with someone else.
Thanks, Fabio.
You're welcome, Ginger and Mary Ann.
What do I look like? Well, I am statuesque with flowing red hair and a booty that your hand just aches to grab.
- Butter, you okay? - Oh, yes.
I'm fine.
It's just that chronic pain in the butt I live with.
Hey, Butter, I got to ask you this before I lose the nerve.
Will you come spend the holidays with me? Oh, well, I'd love to, Mr.
O'Plenty but it's against company policy.
You see, we phone-sex employees live by the highest moral and ethical standards.
Yeah, well, I'd make it a Christmas you'd never forget.
Dinner.
Dancing.
A sleigh ride to the airport Motel 6 where I would rock your world.
I'll be there in a half an hour.
Al, I'm leaving you.
Peg, under normal circumstances, I'd help you pack.
But there's more at stake here than our marriage, Peg, there's money.
Piles and piles of money.
I want you to get back on that phone and do what you do best.
Shatter dreams.
Look, Horn, I've got to be perfectly honest with you.
You see, I'm a happily married woman with children.
Very, very young children.
Infants.
Hey, I don't mind messing around with a married woman.
Al, I'll be back by New Year's.
Peg, he's a shoe salesman.
It would be like leaving me for me.
Oh, yeah.
Thanks for talking me down, Al.
Listen, Mr.
O'Plenty.
You know, it's easy to get carried away on the phone.
I mean, but it's all just a fantasy.
You know my husband may not be much but he does keep me in bonbons and I don't have to cook or clean or even know where my kids are.
Yeah, well I guess, I can respect that.
Can we still fool around on the phone sometimes? Oh, yeah.
We can do it right now.
Al, you've got to listen to this.
No, I don't.
How'd it go, buddy? Well, she won't go out with me, but all is not lost.
She reaffirmed the value of cheap and meaningless sex.
That's a gift I will always cherish.
Hey, hey, guys, listen, since the wives are downtown feeding Christmas dinners to the homeless shouldn't we be down at the nudie bar feeding dollars to the topless? - Great idea! To the nudie bar! - Yes! Where Christmas is nice And lap dances are half price To the nudie bar! - Where you drink down the shooters - And unwrap the hooters At the nudie bar! - Where eggnog's a-plenty - And the girls are all 20 At the nudie bar! I recognize those voices.
Butcher Boy, Psycho Cop, Hot Pants, Ken Doll, Shoe Horn.
It's me, Butter.
--it is now time to unveil the contents of the Bundy family Christmas club.
Oh, Dad.
You got a festive green one this year.
Usually you just use one of your old white socks.
Honey, that is one of his white socks.
See how it matches his teeth.
Thank you, Rudolf the Redhead Couch Wit.
Anyway, once a year the working members of the Bundy family, namely me put aside a small percentage of his paycheque-- Namely nothing.
--and at the end of the year, opens it up to buy Christmas presents.
Namely garbage.
Dad, why do we go through this pathetic charade every year? You know Mom's jimmied the lock and spent all the money on herself.
I didn't spend one penny on myself this year.
Hey, maybe, we will get some presents.
Then why is there nothing but receipts in here, Peg? Well, those aren't from me.
That's just stuff Mom needed.
Five hundred dollars for JJ's House of Strudel.
Two hundred dollars for a heavy-duty Buttmaster.
Everybody knows that strudel goes straight to the butt.
- There goes your Christmas gift, Peg.
- What about us? Oh, this doesn't affect your gift, pumpkin.
Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas.
I ought to give you one of these for Christmas.
Come on, Kel.
Let's go.
We'll have to raise our own money for Christmas presents.
You know what this means, right? Yeah.
The shell-shocked vet and the blind-girl routine.
That's right.
And this year don't sit there reading People magazine, all right.
I was not reading it.
I was looking at the pictures, okay? Your mother's eating us out of house and home.
I don't expect her to pull her weight.
That would be impossible.
But she's got to get a job.
She's a Wanker woman.
She's not used to working.
I will only put up with one worthless Wanker woman in this house at a time.
Either she gets a job or you do.
Mom, we gotta talk! Excuse me.
Do you have any pumps in my size? Yes, I do, but the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Shoes would not allow me to sell them to you.
Well, I hope you get coal in your stocking on Christmas morning.
And I hope you get Slim-Fast in yours.
Now, we're about to have our Christmas party.
So would you mind eggnogging on out? - Happy Holidays.
- Merry Christmas.
Hey, guys, sorry I'm late.
I had to ditch Marcie down at the employment office.
God, what a depressing place.
All those people out of work, huh? No.
All those people looking for work.
Have they no pride? I'll tell you, if Marcie is so dead set on a two-income family let her get a night job.
Yeah.
Jefferson, you don't really mean that about Marcie, do you? As sure as I'm skimming money off her mutual funds.
Oh, I'll tell you, it will be a cold day in hell when my paycheque-in-heels outsmarts me.
Well, then, prepare to make snow angels with the Prince of Darkness.
Marcie? Marcie! I can't believe you followed me here from the employment office? - Look, Jefferson-- - Oh, no, no, no.
Don't apologize.
The damage is done.
Look, Marcie, if I can't trust you not to follow me how can I ever trust you as a reference on a job application? Well, I already got you a job playing life-sized Ken in the Barbie Christmas window at Marshall Field's.
Okay, but don't blame me, Marcie, if your sick obsession with work drives me into the arms of a life-sized Barbie.
Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas! Well, now that the wives and deadbeats are gone let's start this Christmas party.
Yeah! Yeah! The tree is trimmed, the halls are decked and Ike has dawned his gay apparel.
Take that back, you glorified night watchman.
Gentlemen, focus.
There'll be no brawling here.
This is a Christmas party, not a wedding.
Besides, we can't start until Griff gets here from his new part-time job.
Okay, kid, if you let go of my leg I'll bring you a pony on Christmas morning.
Excuse me.
Why did you say that? I specifically told you he couldn't have one.
And I specifically told you tips were encouraged.
Come on, Bobby.
The real Santa's at Kmart.
- Merry Christmas! - Happy holidays! Merry stinking Christmas.
Hey, Griff, where's your Christmas spirit? My ex-wife got it in the divorce settlement.
Along with the house, the car and my entire collection of Pam Grier movies.
I knew you were feeling lonely the last couple of weeks.
That's why I got you this for Christmas.
"1 -900-YUMMY"? "The bearer of this card is entitled to 20 minutes of yuletide phone sex.
" - Al, you shouldn't have.
- Hey, it didn't cost me anything.
I just cashed in my frequent hooter miles at the nudie bar.
Al, meaningless, no-strings-attached sex is the last thing I want right now.
That's the only thing I've ever wanted.
- Oh, wait! - Let me have it.
Hey, Ike, give me that thing back.
Come on, Ike! Hey, Ike! Ike! Ike! Don't be selfish.
Put it on the speakerphone.
Hello, you're cooking with Butter.
Hey, Butter, this is Hot Pants.
Oh, Hot Pants.
Why don't you come closer and melt little old Butter.
Hold on.
I got to think about baseball.
Hey, hey, Butter.
This is Double-O-Shoe.
Listen, forget Hot Pants.
You need to talk to my good friend-- - Butcher Boy.
- Psycho Cop.
Not you, you potbellied porkers.
Al.
Hi, Butter.
This is Shoehorn O'Plenty.
- Thanks for the ride home, Griff.
- Don't mention it.
Hey, I'm a Dodge man through and through but that Geo Metro of yours is a lot easier to push up that hill.
Yeah, but if you want a car that will just rust away on the front lawn nothing beats your Dodge.
You got that right.
I'll give you that beer I promised.
There's nobody home.
Beer? I'll come down and join you.
Except my mother-in-law, the Budweiser Clydesdale.
Al, I got to go anyhow, Al.
I promised Butter I'd call her at 6.
You wouldn't want to leave a phone-sex operator waiting by the phone.
Wait a minute, Al.
Butter is more than just a $1 .
99 a minute.
She's a real good listener who really understands me.
And, boy, can she talk dirty.
Well, I still better go.
I got a long push home.
All right, take it easy, buddy.
Merry Christmas.
You're cooking with Butter.
Oh, no.
More.
Come on.
You know, this is fantastic.
I can't believe Grandma bought us these presents and this beautiful dinner.
It's like she's an older married man or something.
You know, Peg, who would've thought that your mom's 1 -900 number would have bought us our first real Christmas? You know, for a Bigfoot, your mom's okay.
Oh, Al, let's invite her down for Christmas dinner.
What, are you nuts? Don't you know that the holidays are the busiest phone-sex time of all.
Daddy, aren't you feeling just a little guilty that most of the money that paid for this food came from your NO MA'AM friends? Guilty, no.
Hungry, yes.
What I mean is, is that don't you think you should tell them that Butter is really Grandma? Pumpkin, unlike marriage, phone sex is a victimless crime.
Why spoil the good time of my dear friends and derail our gravy train at the same time? Speaking of which, Peg, would you pop open another can of gravy, please? Attagirl.
Dad's right.
What they don't know, won't hurt them.
Besides, when you dial those 900 numbers, all you really care about is-- Getting your money back for dialing the wrong number.
Who could that be? Maybe one of the neighbors found out we had food.
Eat fast.
All right, I'll get it.
Just pretend like nothing's happened.
Shut up, now! Coming.
- Hey, Al.
- Hey, Griff, how you doing? So you're having another imaginary Christmas dinner? Yeah, well, it keeps them happy, you know.
Thanks for stopping by, buddy.
Wait a minute.
Wait a minute.
I need your advice.
You know, I've been talking to Butter a lot lately.
Al, she is more than just phone sex.
She is a beautiful human being.
I never thought I'd say this again: I think I'm in love.
I think I'm about to blow gravy.
Al, I want to ask her to spend the holidays with me.
Family meeting.
Al, what are we gonna do? If Griff finds out that Grandma is Butter then he and the guys will stop calling and we'll have to go back to living on your income.
I hate him.
He's the Griff who stole Christmas.
- I'll kill this sucker first.
- No! No! No one kills anybody here.
Come here.
I got a plan.
I want you two to get some candy canes and lure Grandma out of her room.
All of her, Dad? Even the dark, mossy side? Yes.
Will you just go do it? Peg, I want you to go upstairs and talk dirty.
Oh, Al.
You mean like this? Thank you, Peg.
The one meal I've had in months and I won't be able to keep it down.
You said to talk dirty.
Not to me, you candied yam.
To Griff.
I want you to go upstairs.
When the phone rings, I want you to answer it.
Pretend you're Butter.
Then I want you to tell him that your love can never be.
Well, what are you gonna do? I'm gonna soften him up with our finest liquid refreshment.
The man has gravy.
Not just for breakfast anymore.
Al, what if Butter won't go out with me? What will I do? - Not call her anymore? - Nope.
Call her often, and call her at peak hours and talk for a long, long time.
But never ask to meet her.
Okay, Al.
This may be just the gravy talking, but I trust your judgment.
Here goes.
Merry Christmas.
You're cooking with Butter.
Merry Christmas, Butter baby.
This is Shoehorn O'Plenty.
You sound a little different tonight, Butter.
What, you got a little cold? Well, I did.
But I'm warming up now.
Look, Butter, I know I've asked you this before but this time I really have to know.
What do you look like? Al, I am really uncomfortable with this.
I don't think I can go through with it.
Peg, Peg, Peg.
Just do what we do when we have sex.
Pretend we're with someone else.
Thanks, Fabio.
You're welcome, Ginger and Mary Ann.
What do I look like? Well, I am statuesque with flowing red hair and a booty that your hand just aches to grab.
- Butter, you okay? - Oh, yes.
I'm fine.
It's just that chronic pain in the butt I live with.
Hey, Butter, I got to ask you this before I lose the nerve.
Will you come spend the holidays with me? Oh, well, I'd love to, Mr.
O'Plenty but it's against company policy.
You see, we phone-sex employees live by the highest moral and ethical standards.
Yeah, well, I'd make it a Christmas you'd never forget.
Dinner.
Dancing.
A sleigh ride to the airport Motel 6 where I would rock your world.
I'll be there in a half an hour.
Al, I'm leaving you.
Peg, under normal circumstances, I'd help you pack.
But there's more at stake here than our marriage, Peg, there's money.
Piles and piles of money.
I want you to get back on that phone and do what you do best.
Shatter dreams.
Look, Horn, I've got to be perfectly honest with you.
You see, I'm a happily married woman with children.
Very, very young children.
Infants.
Hey, I don't mind messing around with a married woman.
Al, I'll be back by New Year's.
Peg, he's a shoe salesman.
It would be like leaving me for me.
Oh, yeah.
Thanks for talking me down, Al.
Listen, Mr.
O'Plenty.
You know, it's easy to get carried away on the phone.
I mean, but it's all just a fantasy.
You know my husband may not be much but he does keep me in bonbons and I don't have to cook or clean or even know where my kids are.
Yeah, well I guess, I can respect that.
Can we still fool around on the phone sometimes? Oh, yeah.
We can do it right now.
Al, you've got to listen to this.
No, I don't.
How'd it go, buddy? Well, she won't go out with me, but all is not lost.
She reaffirmed the value of cheap and meaningless sex.
That's a gift I will always cherish.
Hey, hey, guys, listen, since the wives are downtown feeding Christmas dinners to the homeless shouldn't we be down at the nudie bar feeding dollars to the topless? - Great idea! To the nudie bar! - Yes! Where Christmas is nice And lap dances are half price To the nudie bar! - Where you drink down the shooters - And unwrap the hooters At the nudie bar! - Where eggnog's a-plenty - And the girls are all 20 At the nudie bar! I recognize those voices.
Butcher Boy, Psycho Cop, Hot Pants, Ken Doll, Shoe Horn.
It's me, Butter.