Married with Children s04e01 Episode Script
Hot Off the Grill
[***.]
FEMALE NEWSCASTER: Yes, Connie, I'm coming to you from Fort Lauderdale, and we're rockin' to celebrate summer's last hurrah, Labor Day weekend.
I don't even know why we're on, because you'd have to be a real no-life to be home on a picture-perfect day like this.
Mom, please.
Is this how I'm gonna spend my Labor Day weekend? Sitting between my mother and a pizza with everything? The holiday got you down, Kel? Let's just pretend it's a normal day.
Get up on the table, dance around, and me and Mom will put dollars down your blouse.
Now, Bud, not everything Reverend Felcher says from the pulpit is true.
Ha, ha, ha.
Greeting, vultures.
You meal ticket's here.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
Guess where I have been.
Locked in the trunk of your car with a dead cat? And no one understands why I scream on the way home.
Anyhow, I was thinking, how could we have a perfect Labor Day? And then it hit me.
While all those families of morons are wasting their time going to the beach, guess where we're gonna be.
No, not another family barbecue.
Yes, a family barbecue! Who's going to give it a "Whoa, Bundy," here? Huh? No one? Fine.
Oh, Al.
Honey, don't get us wrong.
It's not that we don't enjoy sweltering in the back yard, being bitten by horseflies and watching you scratch your sweaty back with our salad forks.
But, honey, just once we would like to do something we want.
We can't do something that you want, and I'll tell you why.
Because it's Labor Day, not Leech Day.
That's Christmas.
It's not Parasite Day.
That's Mother's Day.
See, this is a holiday for the working guy.
It celebrates all the people who work, so that all the people who don't can live longer and have more than he does.
So tomorrow unless, God willing, I die in my sleep I get up for me and celebrate for me.
Tomorrow is Al Bun-Day.
Gee, I thought that was Al-oween.
I don't want to sit around the house all day and sleep.
It's like being at school.
No, the difference between here and school is you'll be out of here when you're 18.
Now, tomorrow your job is to go shopping.
Why can't we shop today? Traffic too light? Because, if you were paying attention all these years, you'd know that Al Bundy doesn't barbecue with day-old fixin's.
Now, it's your job tomorrow to get me fresh meat, fresh cheese, and fresh charcoal.
And watch those chips.
I don't want you getting anything that says "natural ingredients.
" Now, kids, since we're all gonna spend the whole day together tomorrow, today, get out.
Oh, and don't forget.
I don't want my ketchup in those plastic squeeze things.
I want bottles, just like the Pilgrims had.
I wish you could have seen your father when he was in high school, before all this happened.
As I recall, they almost did.
I can't wait to have kids so I can make them suffer.
And when they ask who their dad is, you can play "Wheel of Father.
" Now, Peg, I don't want you to think that I forgot you in all this.
Your job is very important too.
You get to bring the benches from the basement and scrape off the bird doody.
Traditionally, the job of the queen.
That, and killing and eating her mate.
Heh, heh, heh.
Oh, what a day this is gonna be! Can you feel the excitement, Peg? Oh, Al, I've given up on excitement.
I'm going for relief.
Which brings us to a little promise you made just last spring.
Sex again.
Peg, we've been married for 17 years now.
Can't we just be friends? No.
I don't like you, I just want to have sex with you.
[DOORBELL RINGS.]
Oh, come on, honey.
You promised me that when you were rested, we could do it.
And besides, the way you do it, it's just like resting anyway.
Oh, Peggy, I don't know what to do.
Steve is an unfeeling cur.
As you know, my sainted Aunt Tuney passed away.
Sainted, my foot.
She used to pay for sailors.
She was 67, and they wouldn't come for free.
Anyw-- Anyway, I was her favorite, and the honor of caring for her sainted ashes fell to me.
And the horrible cross to bear of caring for her $100,000 fell to her cats.
Oh, Aunt Tuney, no one understands but me.
Oh, we understand.
You're insane.
Must you carry that urn wherever you go? She sleeps with it, you know.
I can't throw stones.
Look, Marcy, all I am saying is that it is unhealthy for you to walk around with a load of ashes, while five moth-eaten cats have a bigger Mercedes than I do.
Damn nouveau cats.
Guys, guys, guys.
This should be a happy day, not fighting, and arguing, and having sex with our spouses.
So I'm going to do something that I wouldn't normally do.
Use a Q-Tip? Oh, want some lovin', babe? Anyhow, us Bundys are having a barbecue tomorrow, and I'm inviting you two to share some of our famous Bundyburgers.
Well, I suppose Aunt Tuney would like a day out in the fresh air.
She got enough when we rowed her around the lake yesterday.
Thank you, Al.
We'll be glad to come.
What can we bring? Just the plates, and some food, and some beers, and leave the rest to us.
Heh, heh, heh.
Ah, this is gonna be just great.
You know, there's nothing like spending Labor Day with the family, and good food and good friends.
Oh, God.
What a charade! [SOBS.]
Oh, God! [ROBERT JASON'S "WHO'LL STOP THE RAIN" PLAYING ON STEREO.]
* Still the rain Kept fallin' * * While it pounds My ears * * And I wonder * * Ooh, I wonder * * Who'll stop the rain * [INSTRUMENTAL BREAK.]
[BANG.]
PEG: Ow! This is heavy.
Can you give me a hand? Thanks, Al.
I can take it from here.
Peg, I told ya, I've got to conserve my energy if you expect sex tonight.
Sex tonight? My legs are aching, my head is killing me, and I feel queasy.
I feel like I already had sex with you.
So just forget about tonight.
When this day is over, I am going upstairs and sleep for a week.
This is the worst day of my life.
Lugging and scrubbing.
Pushing and pulling.
Dragging and hauling.
Washing and wiping.
God! My back aches.
My front aches.
Oh! You know, I could die from this.
God, I'm so tired.
All right, now what little dirty job do you have for me? Oh, no.
Oh PEG: I'm so tired! I hate you, Al.
I really, really hate you.
You know, a gentleman would've said, "Thanks for the good time, babe.
Let me clean that bird doody while you rest.
" But not you.
You are a pig, Al.
And my arms are killing me.
Scrub harder.
Oh, it still won't come off.
Somebody help me.
Don't just sit there.
Do something.
Oh! Oh! No! God! I'm so tired! No! [GASPING.]
Water.
* And I wonder * * Whoa, I wonder * * Who'll stop the rain * Hey, babe.
[WEAKLY.]
Water.
No time for that now, babe.
Got to get ready for the barbecue.
Oh, listen.
Honey, don't touch my grill.
It's filthy, Al.
Don't you want me to lick it clean so we can have sex again? No.
I like it just the way it is.
Last year's grease on the grill, last year's ashes on the bottom.
That's what makes the Bundyburger special.
Oh, honey, would you clean up that spot that your hair made when it got caught on that nail? I feel good, don't you? Ha, ha, ha! I hate barbecues.
I hate Labor Day.
And I hate watching buzzards circle while I'm having sex.
[GASPS.]
Oh! He's gonna kill me.
Where--? Where am I gonna get ashes? Uh Oh.
[WHISPERS.]
Okay.
Okay, okay.
She's turning into Grandma before our very eyes.
Kids, kids Mommy needs a little help.
You see, I accidentally knocked over Daddy's barbecue and lost his ashes.
[BOTH GASP.]
Well, I guess you're out of here, then, huh, Mom? Bud, you're the woman of the house now.
No, I don't think it's gonna get to that.
You see, Daddy doesn't know yet.
And we have one thing going in our favor.
Every other family on the block is having a good time away from home, except us.
That means it's open season on their houses.
So I want you to check barbecues, fireplaces, and ovens for ashes.
Oh, whoever goes to the McGintys, bring me a Dr.
Pepper.
Ha, ha! Hurry up! [UNDER BREATH.]
Oh, boy.
God.
I can't stand this anymore! AL: I can.
Come to Daddy! Oh.
[SOBS.]
I hate Labor Day so much.
Did you get the ashes? A piece of cake.
You know, you can learn a lot about a person going through their house.
You know, Mr.
Collins who lives down the block? He must be a real stud.
I mean, he's a bachelor, but his whole closet is filled with women's clothing.
Pretty fancy thinking for a dullard, eh, Mom? Well, we got the groceries.
Ah.
Thanks so much for inviting us and letting us pay for it.
I have $5.
00 left if you need something to get the fire going.
You know, Steve, before we eat, I'm just going to check on Aunt Tuney.
Marcy she's dead.
Gone, fried, dust.
Paying sailors in hell.
You know, Aunt Tuney never liked you.
She didn't like anything that didn't rub its face back and forth across her pot belly.
Then why didn't she like you? Mom, we're hungry, and your underwear's under the table.
Where's Dad? Uh, he's getting ready, honey.
And you know what that means.
[***.]
[GEORGE THOROGOOD AND THE DESTROYERS' "BAD TO THE BONE" PLAYS.]
* On the day I was born * * The nurses all Gathered 'round * * They gazed in wide wonder * * At the joy they had found * * The head nurse spoke up * * Said "Leave this one alone" * * She could tell right away * * That I was bad to the bone * * Bad to the bone * * Bad to the bone * * B-B-B-B-Bad * * B-B-B-B-Bad * * B-B-B-B-Bad * * Bad to the bone * [MUSIC ENDS ABRUPTLY.]
Let's cook.
Finally, we can eat.
Not quite yet.
Labor Day.
What does it mean to us? To answer that question, we must hark back to earlier times.
You see, kids, while the cavewoman sat around getting fat, smoking cigarettes, and watching the Phil Java Man show, the caveman braved the elements, risking life and limb and the prehistoric beasts with only the hair on his back for protection.
In 1492, Columbus brought Labor Day to America.
And the women still did nothing! And that's what Labor Day means to me.
May we eat now? Not quite yet.
What other torture can he possibly inflict on us? * O'er the land Of the free * * And the home Of the brave * And the burgers take the field.
In exactly 11 minutes and seven seconds, you're going to sink your teeth in the best burger they ever yanked out of a cow.
Ooh, Al, you make it sound so good, but Marcy and I rarely eat red meat.
So would you mind fixing up this salmon I brought? Oh.
No problem.
No fish will ever touch my grill.
Well, we still have three minutes before we have to turn the burgers.
Come on, Peg.
This is your lucky day.
Look! It's open, Al.
Really, it's open, and it wasn't hard at all.
Really.
Oh, no! [SNIFFS.]
Ah! What happened to my fish? Oh.
Well, it fell on the ground.
Eat up.
Well? Mm-mm! The greatest, Dad.
Delicious.
Peg? [WHINING, QUIETLY SOBBING.]
Oh, not that.
No.
I meant, how's your burger? I know what you want.
You want me to say it's tough and chewy so you can have your way with me again.
Well, it's not.
It's light and fluffy and melts in my mouth.
Ha! Steve, how's your burger? You know, I hate to admit it, but this is the best burger I've ever had.
What's your secret? I sneak over to the nudie place a couple of times a month in order to make it through life.
No.
I meant about your burgers.
Oh! Oh.
The secret's in the ashes, Steve.
See, I never clean my grill.
Ashes from the past for burgers of the future.
Marcy, you're not eating.
How can I eat with you talking about ashes? It only makes me think of my poor Aunt Tuney up on the mantle over our fireplace in her little urn.
Umexcuse me, but what did you say was in the little urn above your fireplace? The ashes of my dead aunt.
Bud, can I talk to you for a second? Mm! [WHISPERS.]
[GAGS.]
[WHISPERS.]
[GAGS.]
[WHISPERS.]
Marcy, come on.
You're not eating any.
Take a bite.
You'll like it.
Uh, Marcy-- Shut up, ghoul.
Alrighty.
Mm! These are quite good.
Mm.
You know, Al, I'm sorry to be such a party poop.
It's just that I loved my aunt very much.
Mm! These are delicious! But Aunt Tuney meant so much to me.
I know she did, Marce, but sometimes we've got to put the dead behind us.
Mm! Aunt Tuney loved a good barbecue.
I only wish she could be with us right now.
If it's any comfort to you, Marce, I'm sure she's with us in spirit.
Mm-- Mm-- [SPITS.]
Bone.
Mm.
But if she was here, I'm sure she'd be saying just what we're saying now: These are the best burgers this side of heaven.
Ha, ha, ha, ha.
[***.]
FEMALE NEWSCASTER: Yes, Connie, I'm coming to you from Fort Lauderdale, and we're rockin' to celebrate summer's last hurrah, Labor Day weekend.
I don't even know why we're on, because you'd have to be a real no-life to be home on a picture-perfect day like this.
Mom, please.
Is this how I'm gonna spend my Labor Day weekend? Sitting between my mother and a pizza with everything? The holiday got you down, Kel? Let's just pretend it's a normal day.
Get up on the table, dance around, and me and Mom will put dollars down your blouse.
Now, Bud, not everything Reverend Felcher says from the pulpit is true.
Ha, ha, ha.
Greeting, vultures.
You meal ticket's here.
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
Guess where I have been.
Locked in the trunk of your car with a dead cat? And no one understands why I scream on the way home.
Anyhow, I was thinking, how could we have a perfect Labor Day? And then it hit me.
While all those families of morons are wasting their time going to the beach, guess where we're gonna be.
No, not another family barbecue.
Yes, a family barbecue! Who's going to give it a "Whoa, Bundy," here? Huh? No one? Fine.
Oh, Al.
Honey, don't get us wrong.
It's not that we don't enjoy sweltering in the back yard, being bitten by horseflies and watching you scratch your sweaty back with our salad forks.
But, honey, just once we would like to do something we want.
We can't do something that you want, and I'll tell you why.
Because it's Labor Day, not Leech Day.
That's Christmas.
It's not Parasite Day.
That's Mother's Day.
See, this is a holiday for the working guy.
It celebrates all the people who work, so that all the people who don't can live longer and have more than he does.
So tomorrow unless, God willing, I die in my sleep I get up for me and celebrate for me.
Tomorrow is Al Bun-Day.
Gee, I thought that was Al-oween.
I don't want to sit around the house all day and sleep.
It's like being at school.
No, the difference between here and school is you'll be out of here when you're 18.
Now, tomorrow your job is to go shopping.
Why can't we shop today? Traffic too light? Because, if you were paying attention all these years, you'd know that Al Bundy doesn't barbecue with day-old fixin's.
Now, it's your job tomorrow to get me fresh meat, fresh cheese, and fresh charcoal.
And watch those chips.
I don't want you getting anything that says "natural ingredients.
" Now, kids, since we're all gonna spend the whole day together tomorrow, today, get out.
Oh, and don't forget.
I don't want my ketchup in those plastic squeeze things.
I want bottles, just like the Pilgrims had.
I wish you could have seen your father when he was in high school, before all this happened.
As I recall, they almost did.
I can't wait to have kids so I can make them suffer.
And when they ask who their dad is, you can play "Wheel of Father.
" Now, Peg, I don't want you to think that I forgot you in all this.
Your job is very important too.
You get to bring the benches from the basement and scrape off the bird doody.
Traditionally, the job of the queen.
That, and killing and eating her mate.
Heh, heh, heh.
Oh, what a day this is gonna be! Can you feel the excitement, Peg? Oh, Al, I've given up on excitement.
I'm going for relief.
Which brings us to a little promise you made just last spring.
Sex again.
Peg, we've been married for 17 years now.
Can't we just be friends? No.
I don't like you, I just want to have sex with you.
[DOORBELL RINGS.]
Oh, come on, honey.
You promised me that when you were rested, we could do it.
And besides, the way you do it, it's just like resting anyway.
Oh, Peggy, I don't know what to do.
Steve is an unfeeling cur.
As you know, my sainted Aunt Tuney passed away.
Sainted, my foot.
She used to pay for sailors.
She was 67, and they wouldn't come for free.
Anyw-- Anyway, I was her favorite, and the honor of caring for her sainted ashes fell to me.
And the horrible cross to bear of caring for her $100,000 fell to her cats.
Oh, Aunt Tuney, no one understands but me.
Oh, we understand.
You're insane.
Must you carry that urn wherever you go? She sleeps with it, you know.
I can't throw stones.
Look, Marcy, all I am saying is that it is unhealthy for you to walk around with a load of ashes, while five moth-eaten cats have a bigger Mercedes than I do.
Damn nouveau cats.
Guys, guys, guys.
This should be a happy day, not fighting, and arguing, and having sex with our spouses.
So I'm going to do something that I wouldn't normally do.
Use a Q-Tip? Oh, want some lovin', babe? Anyhow, us Bundys are having a barbecue tomorrow, and I'm inviting you two to share some of our famous Bundyburgers.
Well, I suppose Aunt Tuney would like a day out in the fresh air.
She got enough when we rowed her around the lake yesterday.
Thank you, Al.
We'll be glad to come.
What can we bring? Just the plates, and some food, and some beers, and leave the rest to us.
Heh, heh, heh.
Ah, this is gonna be just great.
You know, there's nothing like spending Labor Day with the family, and good food and good friends.
Oh, God.
What a charade! [SOBS.]
Oh, God! [ROBERT JASON'S "WHO'LL STOP THE RAIN" PLAYING ON STEREO.]
* Still the rain Kept fallin' * * While it pounds My ears * * And I wonder * * Ooh, I wonder * * Who'll stop the rain * [INSTRUMENTAL BREAK.]
[BANG.]
PEG: Ow! This is heavy.
Can you give me a hand? Thanks, Al.
I can take it from here.
Peg, I told ya, I've got to conserve my energy if you expect sex tonight.
Sex tonight? My legs are aching, my head is killing me, and I feel queasy.
I feel like I already had sex with you.
So just forget about tonight.
When this day is over, I am going upstairs and sleep for a week.
This is the worst day of my life.
Lugging and scrubbing.
Pushing and pulling.
Dragging and hauling.
Washing and wiping.
God! My back aches.
My front aches.
Oh! You know, I could die from this.
God, I'm so tired.
All right, now what little dirty job do you have for me? Oh, no.
Oh PEG: I'm so tired! I hate you, Al.
I really, really hate you.
You know, a gentleman would've said, "Thanks for the good time, babe.
Let me clean that bird doody while you rest.
" But not you.
You are a pig, Al.
And my arms are killing me.
Scrub harder.
Oh, it still won't come off.
Somebody help me.
Don't just sit there.
Do something.
Oh! Oh! No! God! I'm so tired! No! [GASPING.]
Water.
* And I wonder * * Whoa, I wonder * * Who'll stop the rain * Hey, babe.
[WEAKLY.]
Water.
No time for that now, babe.
Got to get ready for the barbecue.
Oh, listen.
Honey, don't touch my grill.
It's filthy, Al.
Don't you want me to lick it clean so we can have sex again? No.
I like it just the way it is.
Last year's grease on the grill, last year's ashes on the bottom.
That's what makes the Bundyburger special.
Oh, honey, would you clean up that spot that your hair made when it got caught on that nail? I feel good, don't you? Ha, ha, ha! I hate barbecues.
I hate Labor Day.
And I hate watching buzzards circle while I'm having sex.
[GASPS.]
Oh! He's gonna kill me.
Where--? Where am I gonna get ashes? Uh Oh.
[WHISPERS.]
Okay.
Okay, okay.
She's turning into Grandma before our very eyes.
Kids, kids Mommy needs a little help.
You see, I accidentally knocked over Daddy's barbecue and lost his ashes.
[BOTH GASP.]
Well, I guess you're out of here, then, huh, Mom? Bud, you're the woman of the house now.
No, I don't think it's gonna get to that.
You see, Daddy doesn't know yet.
And we have one thing going in our favor.
Every other family on the block is having a good time away from home, except us.
That means it's open season on their houses.
So I want you to check barbecues, fireplaces, and ovens for ashes.
Oh, whoever goes to the McGintys, bring me a Dr.
Pepper.
Ha, ha! Hurry up! [UNDER BREATH.]
Oh, boy.
God.
I can't stand this anymore! AL: I can.
Come to Daddy! Oh.
[SOBS.]
I hate Labor Day so much.
Did you get the ashes? A piece of cake.
You know, you can learn a lot about a person going through their house.
You know, Mr.
Collins who lives down the block? He must be a real stud.
I mean, he's a bachelor, but his whole closet is filled with women's clothing.
Pretty fancy thinking for a dullard, eh, Mom? Well, we got the groceries.
Ah.
Thanks so much for inviting us and letting us pay for it.
I have $5.
00 left if you need something to get the fire going.
You know, Steve, before we eat, I'm just going to check on Aunt Tuney.
Marcy she's dead.
Gone, fried, dust.
Paying sailors in hell.
You know, Aunt Tuney never liked you.
She didn't like anything that didn't rub its face back and forth across her pot belly.
Then why didn't she like you? Mom, we're hungry, and your underwear's under the table.
Where's Dad? Uh, he's getting ready, honey.
And you know what that means.
[***.]
[GEORGE THOROGOOD AND THE DESTROYERS' "BAD TO THE BONE" PLAYS.]
* On the day I was born * * The nurses all Gathered 'round * * They gazed in wide wonder * * At the joy they had found * * The head nurse spoke up * * Said "Leave this one alone" * * She could tell right away * * That I was bad to the bone * * Bad to the bone * * Bad to the bone * * B-B-B-B-Bad * * B-B-B-B-Bad * * B-B-B-B-Bad * * Bad to the bone * [MUSIC ENDS ABRUPTLY.]
Let's cook.
Finally, we can eat.
Not quite yet.
Labor Day.
What does it mean to us? To answer that question, we must hark back to earlier times.
You see, kids, while the cavewoman sat around getting fat, smoking cigarettes, and watching the Phil Java Man show, the caveman braved the elements, risking life and limb and the prehistoric beasts with only the hair on his back for protection.
In 1492, Columbus brought Labor Day to America.
And the women still did nothing! And that's what Labor Day means to me.
May we eat now? Not quite yet.
What other torture can he possibly inflict on us? * O'er the land Of the free * * And the home Of the brave * And the burgers take the field.
In exactly 11 minutes and seven seconds, you're going to sink your teeth in the best burger they ever yanked out of a cow.
Ooh, Al, you make it sound so good, but Marcy and I rarely eat red meat.
So would you mind fixing up this salmon I brought? Oh.
No problem.
No fish will ever touch my grill.
Well, we still have three minutes before we have to turn the burgers.
Come on, Peg.
This is your lucky day.
Look! It's open, Al.
Really, it's open, and it wasn't hard at all.
Really.
Oh, no! [SNIFFS.]
Ah! What happened to my fish? Oh.
Well, it fell on the ground.
Eat up.
Well? Mm-mm! The greatest, Dad.
Delicious.
Peg? [WHINING, QUIETLY SOBBING.]
Oh, not that.
No.
I meant, how's your burger? I know what you want.
You want me to say it's tough and chewy so you can have your way with me again.
Well, it's not.
It's light and fluffy and melts in my mouth.
Ha! Steve, how's your burger? You know, I hate to admit it, but this is the best burger I've ever had.
What's your secret? I sneak over to the nudie place a couple of times a month in order to make it through life.
No.
I meant about your burgers.
Oh! Oh.
The secret's in the ashes, Steve.
See, I never clean my grill.
Ashes from the past for burgers of the future.
Marcy, you're not eating.
How can I eat with you talking about ashes? It only makes me think of my poor Aunt Tuney up on the mantle over our fireplace in her little urn.
Umexcuse me, but what did you say was in the little urn above your fireplace? The ashes of my dead aunt.
Bud, can I talk to you for a second? Mm! [WHISPERS.]
[GAGS.]
[WHISPERS.]
[GAGS.]
[WHISPERS.]
Marcy, come on.
You're not eating any.
Take a bite.
You'll like it.
Uh, Marcy-- Shut up, ghoul.
Alrighty.
Mm! These are quite good.
Mm.
You know, Al, I'm sorry to be such a party poop.
It's just that I loved my aunt very much.
Mm! These are delicious! But Aunt Tuney meant so much to me.
I know she did, Marce, but sometimes we've got to put the dead behind us.
Mm! Aunt Tuney loved a good barbecue.
I only wish she could be with us right now.
If it's any comfort to you, Marce, I'm sure she's with us in spirit.
Mm-- Mm-- [SPITS.]
Bone.
Mm.
But if she was here, I'm sure she'd be saying just what we're saying now: These are the best burgers this side of heaven.
Ha, ha, ha, ha.
[***.]