American Dad s03e02 Episode Script

Once, I had it all.
Power, money, respect.
I was a real somebody.
Oh, God.
Let me out of the trunk.
Shut up.
You're interrupting my inner monologue.
Where was I? Ah, yes.
I was a real somebody.
But I squandered that life away.
And now I'm a nobody again working the same old boring job at the CIA.
I'm gonna die.
I am going to die.
It all started 12 days ago.
But I remember it like it was a week ago yesterday.
God, the world today, it's gone crazy.
Oh, this is yesterday's paper.
"Pumpkin Amaretto Cream"? - Coffee Pal, you've done it again.
- You can't go out dressed like that.
Don't worry, I'll be taking it off at Art class where I'll be posing nude.
- You'll do nothing of the sort.
- I'm late.
Can we just cut to the key yelling points? Fine.
I forbid it.
Not while you're under my roof.
I didn't raise a hussy.
My right as a woman.
Nudity empowers me.
There's nothing sinful about the female form.
We done? Yeah, we're done.
God.
You taste awful.
They're coming.
Greg and Terry, congratulations.
You'll be Stop Number 6 in this year's Parade of Homes.
Just think, in two weeks, you'll have drunken strangers walking through your house and judging you.
Just like my mom's boyfriends when I was growing up.
Oh, Barb, tell me the Smiths get a sign this year.
You sure do.
I'm gonna get the shrimp.
Something shrimp.
Stan, this place is so fancy.
Hey, you deserve a night of pampering after today's big disappointment.
Stan, Francine.
I didn't know you ate at restaurants.
We don't have a reservation but my husband is Chuck White.
Of White Used Cars.
Remember, you'll never get robbed by a White guy.
But of course.
Give the esteemed used-car salesman our finest table.
Listen, we'd ask you to join us, but you probably would.
So mean.
Hi, we don't have a reservation but I'm Stan Smith of the CIA.
The CIA? Why didn't you say so? Right this way.
Someone will be right with you.
Hi, I'm Jonathan.
I'll be peeing on your feet this evening.
Oh, we're so glad to have you, Hayley.
I know it's not easy to pose nude.
Maybe for some people, but I am a proud and evolved woman.
And I have nothing to be ashamed of.
Nice.
Madam, please uncover yourself.
Does anyone have more Areola Pink? I only have one tube.
Sea gulls.
Francine, this time they could drive.
Tonight was so embarrassing.
I didn't know what to do, sis.
What? I've never called you "sis" before? You're right.
It is oddly clunky and expositional.
I mean, I know you're my sister, so who am I saying it for? Weird.
Anyway, it wasn't just the restaurant or the Parade of Homes.
It's just everything.
I mean, I love Stan.
But I don't know.
I guess I just always pictured myself with somebody who was, well, a somebody.
So, what's going on with you, sis? Are you enjoying being three years younger than me? You should have heard Francine on the phone.
She thinks she married a nobody.
I appreciate you saying that, bro.
I've called you "bro" before.
That's what we are.
We're half brothers.
I don't care how they say it in New Glarence, Wisconsin where you live on a lake and have nothing in common with me.
Then maybe we should just stay estranged until you can find a dramatic enough reason to show up on my doorstep unannounced.
No, wait.
That's my car.
Here I am.
Sir, I'm not in a good place right now.
Please don't give me a ticket.
- Sorry.
I already started.
- Well, then tear it up.
- I can't do that.
- Yes, you can.
Paper is weak and you are strong.
Come on.
You can't give me a ticket.
You just can't.
Why not? Who the hell are you? You're just a nobody.
- Please, stop.
- Sorry.
I already started.
- This is humiliating.
- Relax, Stan.
Nothing's gonna happen.
Punching a meter maid.
It's like punching a fat person.
No one cares.
Stan Smith, I sentence you to two weeks of community service as a meter maid.
A meter maid.
How embarrassing.
At least we'll get through this together.
Right, Francine? Stan, you're gonna be late for your first day of community service.
Everyone's gonna laugh at me.
Hey, there are worse things than being laughed at.
And in that uniform, all those things will happen to you.
Hey, Dad, what's your route? It's not near my school, is it? Because I'd want to tell all my friends to be on the lookout for a cool guy.
You buying that? Can I look up from my plate? I can't believe I have to miss two weeks of paid work for this.
It's okay, I'm used to doing without.
- What did you say? - Nothing.
Just being passive-aggressive.
The lines I drew serve their purpose.
Though, it's the lines I didn't draw that haunt me.
Roger, you had no right coming to that class and sketching me.
The subject telling the artist what he can and can't do? That's like a soup can telling Warhol where to buy speed.
You are not keeping a naked drawing in this house.
Didn't you say your nudity empowered you? That there was nothing sinful about the female form? This isn't over.
Really? You're leaving.
I'm not thinking about it.
Sure feels over.
Pay attention because I'm gonna be throwing you some big concepts.
You put your key in the meter.
You turn it to the right.
The right! And you empty it.
You got it? What happens if you turn it to the left? Oh, nothing.
It only turns one way.
How can you take pride in this job? Since I put on these sporty yet functional cargo pants my wife can barely look me in the face.
Mine looks me in the face and more because she knows I'm on these mean streets every day juggling power and justice like they were damn chain saws.
No, wait.
This is my store.
I was just inside making some fresh bagels for you.
Oh, thank you.
Thank you.
- Man, he was really afraid of you.
- It's called respect, cupcake.
It comes with the uniform.
And with it, you can get anything you want.
You booted my car? You have to take that off.
- I have a meeting to get to.
- Well, you're out of luck.
That is unless the meeting is about including the Smith house in the Parade of Homes.
Well, no, actually it's about What? Did you forget something in the office? No.
I just realized you're blackmailing me.
Stan, what are we doing here? I don't want to be embarrassed again.
Relax.
Things are different now.
We'd like to be seated.
Green Bonneville, isn't it? Nice car.
Be a shame if you were to wake up one day and that nice car was booted.
Touché, monsieur.
Touché.
Stan, this is the nicest table in the restaurant.
I can't smell either bathroom.
Get used to it, doll.
You're with a meter maid now.
And everything is on the house.
- Caviar, milady? - Gross.
- Thank you.
- No, no, really dig in there.
The good part's at the bottom.
Congratulations.
You're in the Parade of Homes.
Francine finally had what she wanted.
She was married to a somebody.
And she was enjoying a taste of the good life.
Unfortunately, I didn 't count on her having an appetite.
The appetite of a good-life elephant.
Does that make sense? It doesn 't need to.
I was a meter maid.
- Welcome to the club, Francine.
- Look how shiny your sign is.
Thank you.
Look how short your shorts are.
Francine, I heard you bullied your way into the Parade of Homes.
Too bad you can't strong arm your house into looking presentable.
I think it looks okay.
Well, if you think "okay" is good enough then you're as stupid as your house is ugly.
Oh, my God, I'm a bitch.
Okay, vroom-vroom.
She's right.
My house looks so ordinary.
Especially compared to yours.
How do you guys do it? Oh, well, we hired celebrity Jamaican house-painter Belmonpau.
Man, I'm higher than a king snake in a sugar-cane tree.
City streets.
I want our house painted.
By Belmonpau.
I don't know.
I've heard he's pretty expensive.
Stan, expensive is only a problem when people aren't persuaded to give their meter maid things for free.
Oh, please, sir, if I have to pay that ticket you're writing I won't be able to buy medicine this month.
You've lived long enough.
And I don't paint houses for free, man.
You must have some parking tickets.
I can make those disappear.
You meter maids are always trying to muscle me.
But I got news for you, mister.
In addition to being the world's best house-painter I'm also the Jamaican ambassador.
That's right.
Man, I have diplomatic plates on my car.
You can't touch me now.
Now, go on, get out of here.
And tell all your friends Belmonpau is looking for some weed.
- You lent Steve the drawing? - Relax.
He doesn't know it's you.
I know it's me.
Do you know what he just did with it? If you disagree with my lending policies you can buy the drawing for yourself.
- Fine.
How much? - Thanks for the loan.
- Can I borrow it again in four minutes? - No.
Because I'm buying it.
What? You can't.
I need it.
I'll buy it.
Recent rumblings from the art world suggest the market should decide this one.
I'll be holding the auction this Saturday.
Who ever heard of a sad clown? I guess I just always pictured myself with a somebody.
Somebody.
Somebody.
Somebody.
Francine, call Belmonpau.
We're gonna be able to afford that paint job after all.
Rise and shine, meter man.
Thanks again for getting the house painted.
Thanks for helping me hide the salami last night.
That darn neighbor's cat, always stealing our salami.
Hey, hand me my cargo shorts, would you? Seems like more change than you usually carry.
Stan, is there something you're not telling me? Yes.
I've decided you should go buy yourself a Jacuzzi.
But my suspicions.
- And Jacuzzi lessons.
- Oh, Stan.
It was one thing when Stan was just feared by the chumps he ticketed.
But when Stan was feared and had the money to back it up we had finally arrived.
Hey, everybody.
The rinse cycle's on me.
I didn 't know where the quarters were coming from and I didn 't want to know as long as they kept coming.
- I can almost see the airport.
- You can look all day, baby.
We were different than everyone.
And because we were different, the rules didn 't apply to us.
I know there are women who would have gotten out the minute they saw their husband in that uniform.
But I got to admit there was something about Stan ticketing people that turned me on.
Our next piece is Lot 247, Headless Naked Whore.
Do I hear 20? - Twenty.
- Twenty-five.
A hundred dollars.
Be warned, I am proxy-bidding for an anonymous patron in Zurich.
Anonymous and very wealthy.
- One hundred and one dollars.
- I'm out.
- Two hundred.
- Two-fifty.
Five thousand dollars.
- Sold.
Sold.
A thousand times sold.
- Mom? It's the perfect piece to hang in our dining room for the Parade of Homes.
No, you can't.
Well, I guess it's back to squinting really hard till stuff looks like boobs.
- Enjoying your coffee, Smith? - I'm not drinking coffee.
I'm just testing.
If you were a liar, you might say you were enjoying your coffee.
Maybe drink from an imaginary cup.
Who are you and why do you freak me out? Turlington, Parking Internal Affairs.
Our quarter count's been low lately.
Any idea why? Well, I guess gas is so cheap these days that people have been driving around and not parking? Yeah.
I got a kid of my own.
I know what you're going through.
Okay, you can go.
I know it couldn't possibly be you.
But Smith, I'm onto you.
This couch is upholstered in cheetah and the throw pillows are made from her cubs.
We didn't wanna separate them.
That would be cruel.
I have a number of influences.
Chagall, Rembrandt huffing a garbage bag of gasoline.
Believe it or not, the beautiful marble on this wall came from Italy, not from marbles.
- Francine, I think we have a problem.
- What are you talking about? The jig is up.
Internal Affairs knows about everything.
The quarters, the dimes, the nickels.
My God.
The nickels? We have to destroy everything we bought with that dirty change.
Dump it.
Dump it all.
Left my badge in the car.
Everything goes.
Fire will cleanse our sins.
Forgot my sunglasses.
That was bought with dirty money.
My art.
You've destroyed my drawing of Hayley.
Hayley? It's obvious what you have to do, Steve.
You have to kill yourself.
What? Why? Nobody saw.
God saw.
Everyone in heaven saw.
Aunt Sadie, Great Gram-Gram, Star Trek's James Doohan.
- Scotty saw? - Scotty watched the whole damn thing.
You know what, Roger? This whole thing is your fault.
I am gonna kick your ass.
You think you got a shot, porn star? Then bring it.
I wasn't ready.
This is how Houdini died.
Wait.
I'm headed inside.
I don't need sunglasses.
Are they flushing? They're not flushing.
I'm so sorry, Francine.
I never should have exposed you to this stinking life of corruption.
I just wanted you to think you married a somebody.
What? I heard you on the phone with your sister.
I know you think you could've done better than me.
Oh, Stan, you heard that? No.
I was wrong.
I should have been happy with what we had.
So it's time.
Yes, Stan.
I'll need your badge and cargo shorts.
I understand.
I know this means nothing now, but I'm sorry.
Sorry? I just came by to give you your certificate of completion.
As of today, your community service is finished.
Wait.
I'm not a suspect in the missing-quarters case? The funny thing is, I did suspect you.
But then I did some digging and I found out that you're in the CIA.
Some folks might not respect that anymore but I know a CIA agent can always be trusted.
Unless he's a liar, which you aren't.
If you hear anything, let us know.
Otherwise, even if you were somehow involved, you'll never hear from us again.
So that's my story.
You can pass judgment if you want.
But if you've never experienced a ticket book in one hand and a sack of quarters in the other you'll never truly understand.
Of course, I had to go back to the CIA and resume my boring life.
Raid, raid, raid.
Cover me.
No more excitement, no more power.
I'm back to being a nobody.
Just a regular schnook.