Family Guy s15e02 Episode Script

Bookie of the Year

1 It seems today that all you see Is violence in movies and sex on TV But where are those good old-fashioned values On which we used to rely? Lucky there's a family guy Lucky there's a man who positively can do All the things that make us Laugh and cry He's a Fam ily Guy! (CROWD CHATTERING, LIVELY ITALIAN MUSIC PLAYING) Ah, the Feast of San Gennaro.
Every child here has seen a relative murdered in a barber chair.
Step right up! Teach an old Italian lady how to use an iPad! Now, that sounds like fun.
I'll give it a try.
Hey, how are you? Look what I got for you.
What is it? It's a tablet computer.
I don't want it.
But you don't even know what it is.
I don't want it.
But you can watch movies on it.
My eyes hurt.
I'm trying to do something nice here! For the last time, I don't want it.
I bet you if Joey was giving it to you, you'd take it.
Don't you bring him into this.
Joey was a good boy.
Oh, yeah, yeah, Joey was a good boy? You thought he was making 100 grand a year hauling lumber? Don't you start with this.
He was dirty, Ma! I can't hear this! I won't hear it! - He was an angel! - Oh, that's right.
"Angel Joey," great Joey, perfect Joey.
I got to go to the church.
Oh, yeah, sure, light another candle.
That'll bring him back.
You watch your tongue.
Admit it, you wish it was me in that car instead of him! Just take your little TV and go! It's an iPad, you dumb cow! (GROANS) I guess I don't have any sons now.
Ma! I'm sorry, Ma! Ma! Ma! Hey, Bri, look over there.
That guy looks like Frank Sinatra, Jr.
Stewie, this is Federal Hill.
Everybody looks like Frank Sinatra, Jr.
Well, then who's that guy who looks like a young Frank Sinatra? Oh, that's Woody Allen's son, but you're right, that other guy behind him is Frank Sinatra, Jr.
Stewie! Elliot! (CHUCKLES): It-it's actually Brian.
We've-we've met many times before.
Then who's Elliot? I-I really wouldn't know.
This is a bad start to whatever we're doing.
Well, now, what brings you fellas to the festival? My dad will drive long distances for ice with colored liquid in it.
PETER: They got blue! And we all love the Italian food.
Oh, you like Italian food? Want a meatball? Yeah, I'm gonna pass on that, but it's a shame we can't get good Italian food like this in Quahog.
Well, maybe the three of us ought to open an Italian restaurant there.
Open our own Italian restaurant? I say, that sounds fun.
You, uh, you keep meatballs in your jacket? Oh, yeah, all my pockets are lined with Reynolds Wrap.
I learned that from my old buddies: Dean Martin, Jr.
, Joey Bishop, Jr.
, and Sammy Davis the Third.
Hey, where's Chris? He's over there playing that carnival game.
(ITALIAN ACCENT): Step right up! Everybody take a chance on Whack-a-Big-a-Pussy! (REPEATING RAPIDLY): Hey, Ton'! This is not what I thought it was! (YELLS) Oh, my God, Chris is out of control! I know! It must be all the violence in movies and sex on TV.
See, I listen.
(CHUCKLES) Peter, we need to talk about what happened at the street fair.
Lois, it's an Italian festival.
You're supposed to yell "Bella, Bella" and grab as much fat ass as you can.
No, I'm talking about Chris.
I had no idea he had so much pent-up aggression.
We have to deal with his anger issues before he hurts himself.
Ah, that's good thinking, Lois.
I've seen what happens when people hold in their aggression for too long.
Don't forget, I was in that elevator with Jay-Z.
Hey, could you have your guy hit "two"? I got to get down to the business center to print out my boarding pass.
Oh! Hey! That's gonna leave a mark! (CHUCKLES) That's from a movie.
So, you girls traveling with your dad here? Hey, don't kick him, Muddy Shoes.
He's got a white suit on.
Hey, look, I don't know if you guys are really staying here, but you can't get into the pool without a room key.
Okay, Chris, your mom and I want to help you get out some of that aggression, so I thought you and me could huck rotten apples at passing cars.
Oh, I didn't know we had brown apple in the forecast.
Welp, we needed it.
Wow, can I have a turn? (TIRES SCREECHING) Hey, which one of you threw that apple at my car? He did it.
He dragged me out here.
I wanted to be in school, sir.
Where'd you get a cannon like that, kid? I work out my right arm three times a day.
Mm, Free weights? No, mostly JPEGs of Helen Hunt on my hard drive.
Well, I'm Coach Doyle, and I head up the baseball team at James Woods High.
What fake class do they also make you teach? - Driver's ed, right? - No, wood shop.
Ah, that was my second guess.
Tell me, son, how would you like to pitch for the high school team? Baseball's the sport people play while eating, right? Oh, yeah, sometimes I even watch a whole Blacklist.
I don't know, I've never played baseball before.
Oh, come on, Chris, you got to do it.
If you don't, you'll regret it.
Just like Jesus' friend, Evan, who bailed on the Last Supper.
Aw, they did a painting? I would've gone if I knew they were gonna do a painting.
Here we are, fellas.
The future site of Quahog's newest Italian restaurant.
Wow, this is a great location.
Can we afford this? Sure we can.
I set up one of those Kickstarters.
Then I realized how stupid that is and I went to the bank for a loan like an adult.
Now, fellas, the tables should all be bolted to the floor to prevent theft.
You know, most restaurants go out of business because people are stealing the tables.
The toilets should also be bolted to the floor.
I think that's pretty standard, Frank, but okay.
Now let's go find some chump's restaurant and steal his tables and toilets.
James Woods is winning for now, but y'all never know what might happen in the moments to come.
I mean, look, there's two baseball guys out on the bases right now.
What if they's run to the scoring place? BRUCE (OVER P.
): Oh, here comes a new boy.
All right, Chris! Wow, I've never seen him run onto a baseball field when he wasn't chasing a duck or being chased by a duck.
That a duck over there? Ah, come on! What the hell's Coach Doyle thinking bringing in that fat slob?! You know what? I bet you a hundred bucks that "fat slob" strikes this kid out.
Ha, you're on.
Strike one! (CROWD MURMURING) Strike two! BRUCE (OVER P.
): Ooh! (EXHALES) Strike three! (CHEERING) BRUCE (OVER P.
): Three strikes and he's out, just like my cousin Freddie with the drugs.
Holy crap, a hundred bucks! Hey, nice going, Chris! Wow, look how proud my dad is.
Oh, my God, a duck! It was a trap! (LOUD QUACKING) Guys, tonight the drinks are on me.
I just won a hundred bucks off Chris's baseball game.
Really? How'd you do that? This dad took one look at Chris and thought he'd suck, but it turns out Chris is a great pitcher.
I'm so proud of the money I won betting on him.
You know, I bet there are plenty of other baseball dads who'd also assume Chris stinks.
Peter, we could make a lot of money.
Yeah, we could make Toni Braxton money.
Is that is that a lot? It's a lot, and then nothing.
And then a record whose proceeds go directly to creditors.
("CENTERFIELD" BY JOHN FOGERTY PLAYING) Put me in, Coach I'm ready to play Today Put me in, Coach I'm ready to play Today Look at me I can be Centerfield Well, I spent some time in the Mudville Nine Watching it from the bench You know I took some lumps When the Mighty Casey struck out So Say Hey Willie Tell the Cobb And Joe DiMaggio Don't say it ain't so You know the time is now.
Frank, where the hell is everybody? This was supposed to be our big opening night.
I'll tell you what the problem is.
Every successful restaurant has a hook or a gimmick.
That's what we're lacking.
(GASPS) No, we're not.
Frank, you're the hook! That's right.
We just need to make you the face of the restaurant.
It may be the five loaves of garlic bread I ate this morning talking, but I think that's a swell idea.
(TUNE OF "I WISH I WERE IN LOVE AGAIN" PLAYING) You'll love the meal The fancy feel The showbiz stories while you eat your veal It's family dining with a mobster feel At Frank Sinatra's restaurant Junior! The wine is red With lots of bread (AS MARLON BRANDO): And portions bigger than a horse's head.
You'll burp up sausages tonight in bed At Frank Sinatra's restaurant Here's a toast To our host The food's not great, but Drink enough and you won't know The guests will swoon and Frank will croon A "beep-bop-dooby-dop" Italian tune You dine like royalty At Frank Sinatra's restaurant We got big plans to please our fans Our cocktail waitress has enormous cans A men's room servant who will dry your hands At Frank Sinatra's restaurant Our pizza pies could win a prize The jukebox catalog is double size It plays both Capitol and, yes, Reprise That's "Repreeze.
" At Frank Sinatra's restaurant Gorgeous views And top-shelf booze Yes, we serve Jews Um, that was never an issue So, raise your glass You'll have a gas But seating's limited, so move your ass And plant it firmly Here at Frank Sinatra's restaurant Frank's restaurant Frank's res taurant.
(MUSIC ENDS) (CHUCKLES) Wow! Look at this, guys.
I can't believe we made all this in one game.
Yeah, I'm having a great time handling this money and then touching my eyeball.
Jerome, another round for my blurry friends.
Yeah, we got a good thing going.
We just have to keep Chris's talent a secret.
TOM TUCKER (OVER TV): Good evening, I'm Tom Tucker.
Our top story tonight, the James Woods High baseball team is headed to the district championship, thanks to their secret weapon, star pitcher Chris Griffin.
Ah, crap, now everyone knows Chris is a ringer! Tom Tucker just ruined everything.
This sucks even worse than when I stubbed my toe.
Aah! Why does everything bad always happen to me?! Answer me, guy in box and guy on cross! (LOUNGE MUSIC PLAYING) (INDISTINCT CHATTER) Stewie, can I talk to you? Look, Brian, I affectionately pat all the waiters on the ass.
And if anyone has a problem with it, they should come to me directly! No, no, it's not that.
I-I've been going through our receipts, and we're actually losing money.
Well, yeah, duh.
Frank comps every meal.
Look, he's doing it again.
Little-known secret about Charlton Heston.
Never used toilet paper.
Just drop and go.
Uh, here, let me get that check for you.
(SIGHS) Well, it's official.
Nobody wants to bet against Chris now.
Damn it! I can't believe my kid isn't making money for us anymore.
I feel like Jessica Simpson's dad.
Well, there are plenty of guys willing to bet on James Woods High to win, I'll tell you that.
The only way we could ever make money now is if Chris lost.
Wait a minute, Joe, that's it! All we got to do is take those bets and get Chris to take a dive! Wait, hold on, Peter.
You're gonna ask your own son to lose on purpose? Damn, Quagmire! Your fridge gives you water from the door? Hey, champ, what you doing? My Spanish homework.
Oh, well, then maybe I'll just say this to you in Spanish.
Chris, what the hell are you doing?! Calm down.
This is how they package Snapple now.
They're trying to trick kids into drinking it.
You may not believe this, but there was a time when Snapple ruled the nation.
Preposterous! It's true.
Even Jerry Seinfeld drank it.
And he was the president of the '90s.
But why are you so down? Dad told me I have to lose the championship game on purpose.
He what?! Peter, get in here right now! Wow, someone's day-horny! Oh, hey, Chris.
Did you tell Chris he had to lose the district championship?! Let me just get a garbage bag.
Hold on.
Okay, now that I'm decent.
Yes, I did tell Chris to throw the game.
But it's okay; it's for gambling.
What?! You're betting on Chris's baseball team?! Technically against Chris's baseball team.
Are you crazy?! Do I look crazy?! What do you think puts the food on our table and the garbage bags on our backs?! Chris, your father's a jackass.
When you get on that field, you try your very best and play to win.
You understand me? Yeah.
Thanks, Mom.
But, Lois, if Chris wins that game, I'll be out a ton of money and I'll have to kiss a fella! I take all kinds of bets.
Hey, Frank, we have to talk.
You've got to stop giving away all the food for free.
Yeah, otherwise there's no way we're gonna make a profit.
Oh, we don't have to worry about money.
I might be doing a Duets thing with that Lady Goo-Ga.
Uh-huh, that's wrong.
Anyway, the restaurant's gonna go under if you keep giving away food.
All right, all right.
Thank you, Frank.
I appreciate you trying it my way.
Thank you.
What was that? Oh, I get 40 bucks every time somebody says "my way.
" Nancy gets 60.
What do you mean Chris won't take a dive?! We already took a ton of bets! Look, I'm sorry, you guys, but my hot piece-of-ass wife says no way.
It's a weird time to brag about your wife, Peter.
I don't know, I've just been so horny today.
Oh, man, I don't need to know that! Well, pull it together, Peter, 'cause we're about to lose a lot of money! (SIGHS) I know.
We're screwed once Chris takes the mound with that awesome arm of his.
Wait, so what you're saying is Chris isn't the problem, his arm is.
I guess.
We hear you, Peter.
Loud and clear.
Yeah, we'll fix this problem.
You guys are creeping me out.
All right, I'm gonna exit while discreetly checking out the hot chick by the door.
You guys heard what I heard, right? Peter just asked us to break Chris's arm.
Well, he intimated.
I don't know what that means, but let's go rough up a teenager for beer money! Oh, I call biting! Okay, there's the baseball team's locker room right there.
Perfect! And we look like regular high school students, so we'll fit right in.
Joe, are you sure about these clothes? Trust me.
I bought the absolute latest issue of Archie comics, and this is what the kids are wearing.
Oh, hey, fellow teens.
Wait a minute, teenagers don't have wheelchairs! (SOBBING): No! Oh, no! (INDISTINCT CHATTER) Okay, guys, we've served our last free meal.
Here I go with the check.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Last time we ate here, Mr.
Sinatra's son said it was free.
Okay, uh, everyone, new policy! As is the case with many restaurants, you're going to have to pay for your food.
What? This food ain't worth paying for.
Yeah, the only reason we eat here is 'cause it's free.
Look whose restaurant thinks it's so good! Oh, yeah? If it was Joey's restaurant, you would've paid.
(CRYING) Ma! I'm sorry, Ma! Ma! I can't believe it.
They hated us.
Well, fellas, we gave it our best shot.
If you need me, I'll be back in Palm Springs, which has been completely taken over by the gays.
So, want to grab whatever wine is left and then burn the place down? Maybe, but first, let's have an unearned end-of-the-series moment where we turn out the lights on our own place.
Sorry, pal, we're closed.
(PIANO PLAYING SOMBER MUSIC) Peter, we've got great news! Chris isn't playing! He's not? Why? Well, 'cause we broke his arm like you told us to.
We shattered his arm.
You what?! I never told you to do that! You didn't? That's what I thought I heard.
Quagmire, this is humbling, but it may be time for all of us to talk about hearing aids.
I feel terrible! I got to go find my son! Chris! Dad, my arm's broke! And look, a Camaro! Oh, that guy must be so boss.
But listen, Chris, I had no idea this was gonna happen.
Look, I was wrong to bet on your games, and it's even worse that I told you to lose.
I'm so sorry.
Oh, that's okay, Dad.
I just feel bad that my arm is broken in so many places and hurts so much.
No, Chris, I've been a terrible dad lately.
You found something you were great at, and instead of being happy for you, I tried to use it to make money.
And now your arm is broken and your baseball career is over.
Not necessarily.
What? What are you talking about? Well, for the last few weeks, since my right arm's been exhausted from pitching, my left arm's had to, uh, pick up the slack in the bathroom.
(TRIUMPHANT MUSIC PLAYING) (CROWD CHEERING) You see the pitcher? That's my kid.
Aah! Son of a bitch! CHRIS: Oh, my God! Sorry, Mr.
Quagmire! I heard that bone break.
My ears are fine.
Well, Chris, we're very proud of you for making it to the district championship.
Thanks, Mom.
It was really something, Lois.
The next pitch Chris threw hit his coach in the head, so there was no one to take him out of the game.
Chris walked the next 46 batters.
State record.
Wow, Chris! State record! Yeah, they got crushed.
But at least I didn't have to pay out all those bets and kiss a guy.
But I saw you kissing the driver of that Camaro.
That that-that was something else.
(WEAKLY): Baseball!